Too much information
If you’re like me, you’re at an age when your parents are starting to peel at the edges and need sticking back together occasionally.
Cue trips to opticians, dentists, hearing centres etc. Sometimes all in the same week.
I’ve noticed that it can be risky leaving them to their own devices on these trips, mainly in terms of the quality of information that comes back – ie none. They don’t seem to ask questions, or if they do, they don’t catch the answers. It’s sometimes easier just to go with them.
That’s not always possible of course, so instead you have to work with what you have. Letters – if they arrive – that come with info that needs decoding. For example, you might get a letter inviting you to an appointment for something you didn’t know needed fixing. Well you do now, but it would have been nicer to have a direct announcement.
Compare that to the times when you get too much information about something you really couldn’t care less about, for example, the hourly whereabouts of your latest Amazon purchase.
What it’s like when you get too much information and it’s exactly what you want?
I once went private to have a root canal done. I’m still not over it: the classical music, the low lighting, the 12 different choices of Twining’s tea, the latest edition Vogue magazine, the plush carpet. I could go on.
But it wasn’t really this that sealed the deal for me. It made me feel good, sure, but what made me feel so seen, valued and human was the information I got during the entire procedure itself.
Every single thing that happened to me in that chair was communicated to me, from the “I’m just going to lower the light so I can see better” to “And now I’m just going to pop the drill on so I can access the pulp chamber.”
I felt so included, so informed and so relaxed. And so important.
Why should this be so strange? After all it was my mouth, I should be told what’s going on with it.
But when I go to my NHS dentist, it’s almost as if I’m not even there. There’s no dialogue with me or warning that the light’s about to blast into my eyes. It’s all jargon chat “slight calculus distal on #22” told to the dental assistant, or jokes between them about the song that radio 2 are playing.
It’s at the end you finally get addressed, just when you think you’ve been forgotten.
Moments of stress
Information is particularly valuable during high moments of stress. Lack of information inflates that stress. The speculation surrounding this week’s Budget being a case in point.
But it's not just around the Budget that too much information is a good thing. It's all the time.
Understandably, many advisers worry about this with regard to content. What should they write? What's the point when there's already so much out there? Won't it annoy people to clog up their email inbox?
Yes, there’s a lot of content around, but not much of it is very good. By sending people something relevant and personal, you make them feel important - even if they've already heard that same information somewhere else.
“It’s at times like this that we’re glad we have a financial adviser who is not only knowledgeable, but also with whom we have a good relationship.”
This came from a client following a Budget summary we sent out. Such a huge emotion from something relatively small.
But so important when you can't always be in the room with people.
Shameless plug
In this week’s bonus article ‘Smartphones and chimney sweeps’, I ask how much we’ve really moved on in the past 30 years.
Film flops
Take a look at this list of 10 film flops that became classics, including the Gene Wilder Willie Wonka and The Wizard of Oz.
And finally
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