A friend on Facebook recently posted, “I just got an email from Blue Cross urging me to ‘use my benefits’ because the end of the year is coming. Honestly have no idea what to make of that.” Especially since after two emergency room visits, “I have super definitely ‘used my benefits’ this year.”
Writing for health insurance customers is tough.
It’s a phrase that’s often tossed around. But how often do we use it when we should? Plain language is communication your reader can understand immediately. It requires that readers be able to find what they need, understand what they find, and then use that information for their own benefit. It’s not enough for them to understand one sentence of text; it must all work together.
When communication isn’t clear, the result is burden. In health care this burden is often borne by someone who is already carrying rocks in their pack (feeling sick, worried or exhausted). Now, in addition to missing work, paying for medications and doing what it takes to heal, energy must go to deciphering unnecessarily complex information. Common examples include care instructions, medical bills or conversations with providers (“What did the doctor say?”).
For two years, I worked as a college writing center tutor while enrolled in a graduate professional writing program. Over those two years, I studied, practiced, and helped others with clear writing. While the papers I read every day in the writing center ranged from argumentative essays, persuasive essays, and research papers, to more creative, narrative essays, they all had one thing in common: they were written for a target audiience—a professor. And from assignment conception to finished product, plain language played a significant role.
The plain language world is filled with passionate people who believe strongly in the power and importance of clarity. We spend our days fighting jargon and legalese like the true foes they are. We help our clients share clear, empathetic messages that reflect their audience’s true needs.
But, for many of us, looking more closely at our own communications may uncover an unfortunate secret: The cobbler’s children have no shoes.
The Center for Plain Language had this to say about the legal fine print that overran one advertisement for an investment product: “Once again a financial institution that expects me to trust them with my money makes it impossible for me to know what they are going to do with my money.”
The Center had singled out a Charles Schwab & Co. ad for a Wondermark “award” for unintelligible writing.
