The difference between write and wrong

I receive a fair few résumés in any given week, and more so lately as I'm recruiting for a couple of roles.

Last week was no different, but one résumé in particular stood out from the rest of the bunch, albeit for all the wrong reasons. The front page led with 4 sentences, the first of which contained no less than 44 words and 2 errors – including misspelling the name of a previous agency.

From there, things didn't get any better.

80 words later, and I'd counted another 8 errors. Apostrophes turning up in the wrong places (or not at all), random capitalisation, the odd appearance of an ampersand or two, and commas missing in action or simply dropped into the middle of nowhere.

All I can say is that if you're still struggling with the difference between "who's" and "whose" after 25 years in the communications industry – and as a self-professed writer – then all is not well.

But what also struck me was the complexity of the language for something like a résumé, a piece of communication that ought to be simple, approachable and immediate. I've written here about the fact that using long words does not make you appear smarter (in fact, quite the opposite), and I was also reminded of the Flesch-Kincaid readability test.

This is a test that – as the name suggests – measures how easy it is to read a passage of text, and provides a score on a scale of 0–100. Reader's Digest aims for a score of 65 or more, whereas the Harvard Law Review tends to hover around the 30-mark. So far, this post gets a score of 60.

The 4 sentences on the front page of the résumé achieved a Flesch-Kincaid score of just 16. A pretty ordinary effort when you also consider the number of grammatical errors, and a stark reminder of the power of language, for better or for worse.

I sincerely hope that the author of the résumé finds a role, but I can't say for certain that it will be in communications.

Casting the wrong spell

I have often waxed lyrical about the power of language and its rare ability to convey both emotion and conviction – whether as "a spark for the imagination, a call to action, or the prose of persuasion".

And I have just as often bemoaned the fact that, in spite of this, most people "default to the drearier corners of the English language".

However, there is a third dynamic worthy of mention, if only to warn you against its teasing tones. A dynamic that practically obliterates all grammatical sensibility for something far more sensual and alluring. And that is the sultry switch from perfectly adequate and innocent letters like "c" and "s" to something all the more enticing in the oh-so-chic shape of "k" and "z".

It is with more than a touch of irony that I write this. In fact, I find this sort of thing equal parts loathsome and banal, and rarely has my ire been so spurred as when I saw an ad for KFC Krushers on the side of a bus this morning.

Krushers. Real bitz.

It's not particularly youthful, "cool", or credible. And I can't imagine it adds any audience appeal. It's the equivalent of writing something pretty unimaginative in Comic Sans in the blind hope that it will be transformed into a moment of pure comic genius.

Do KFC think today's youth are dyslexic? Or perhaps, they will be so overwhelmed by the "totally unique" experience of this "taste revolution" that only the mild shock of such atrocious marketing can possibly bring them round to their senses.