Image from Dribbble.

The title might be misleading. I’m not discussing the UX of messaging apps, but the reading experience of chat content.

Number OCD

My supervisor recently asked for my phone and ID numbers for some paperwork. We were chatting on DingTalk. I replied “OK” and sent:

×× (My Name) Phone: 186×××××××× ID: 360103××××××××××××

I stared at the message and thought I could do better. So, I resent it:

×× (My Name) Phone: 186 ×××× ×××× ID: 360 103 ×××× ×××× ××××

I mentioned it was easier to read. My supervisor quipped, “OCD kicking in again, eh?” I replied, a bit pretentiously, “User experience is everywhere,” followed by a grinning emoji.

That was that. But since I’d mentioned UX, I figured I’d explore it further. It wasn’t just me being nitpicky. My initial message wasn’t exactly user-friendly.

Formatting a reply is a design task, tied to the user and goal. The user was clear: my supervisor on DingTalk mobile. But the goal? I hadn’t asked. She needed the numbers for documents, but she wouldn’t be preparing them herself. She’d pass the info along. How? Jot it down or forward it? That’s a big difference!

Writing it Down

If she was writing it down, it’d likely be the old-fashioned “read-memorize-write” method. I can’t control the writing, but the reading and memorizing depend on my formatting.

Research suggests people can only remember about 7 digits at a time. Anything longer needs chunking. We remember five and seven-character poems. Nine-character poems exist, but they’re rare. Qu Yuan’s Li Sao is an exception, but even there, most meaningful content stays within 7 characters, thanks to the modal particle “兮”.

Seven is the limit, though, not ideal. Think about verification codes: usually 4 or 6 digits. We can recall 4 digits easily, but 6-digit codes get broken into 3+3. This suggests the sweet spot for easy recall is under 6 characters. China’s 11-digit phone numbers are commonly read as 3+4+4. We say, “Call my 186 number.” Online, the middle 4 digits are often masked. We also tend to remember the last 4 digits. This shows how ingrained this grouping is. ID numbers aren’t usually split up visually, but they have inherent sections: 6 (region) + 4 (year) + 4 (month/day) + 4 (last four). That’s likely how most people memorize them.

As an aside, is the magic number 4 or 5? I lean towards 4, though I lack hard proof. But the examples above hint at it. Bank card numbers, too: different lengths, but when deliberately grouped, they never exceed 4 digits per chunk.

However you format a long number string, that’s how the recipient will read and memorize it. We should all offer this courtesy to each other.

Forwarding on Mobile

Back to the point. If the numbers were to be forwarded and copied into a system, things change entirely.

I couldn’t know if the system handled spaces. Pasting the “easy-read” format might result in “186 ×××× ××”. Also, my supervisor, on Android, couldn’t use clipboard tools like Pin. Extracting the numbers would be a hassle.

Mobile IM often forces you to copy the entire message.

So, for copying from IM, the best format is:

Name:

This reminds me of my WeChat public account. I mostly just post articles, so I set up an auto-reply directing people to my Weibo.

For a while, the auto-reply just said: “I don’t check this account often. Contact me via private message on Sina Weibo: @我_ColaChan.”

Then I messaged myself. It was a pain to copy just the nickname. So I changed it: “I don’t check this account often. Contact me on Sina Weibo. Reply ‘Weibo’ for my username.” Replying “Weibo” triggered a message with just “@我_ColaChan”.

An extra step, but much easier to extract the information.

Eliminating Typos

Text chat isn’t just about numbers. Everyday conversation is key. What defines “good” or “bad” here?

In middle school, we didn’t have cell phones. We chatted on QQ via computer. A classmate once said chatting with me was reassuring. Why? Because I never made typos.

Thinking back, it’s true. Life’s faster now, and with auto-suggestions, typos happen. But attitude matters. I proofread my messages and always fix typos.

Many people don’t check their messages. They don’t check after typing, or even during. They just fire off a message. Even if they spot a mistake, they often can’t be bothered to fix it, assuming the other person will get it. This leads to gibberish like “Enai” (should be “En Ai,” meaning “love”) or “Bu hui ni o” (should be “Bu hui you ni o,” meaning “won’t have you”). Misspelled keywords require serious guesswork, even considering homophones and keyboard layouts. I’ve dealt with printers and developers whose messages are incredibly hard to decipher. Sure, being busy is understandable. But typo-free chat is a better experience for everyone.

Language is Serious

I’ve gotten messages like this before, a jumbled mess:

are you there Does UI need hand-drawing? Can’t do it without hand-drawing? No response to resume Is it not enough experience What are the ui specifications do I need to look at both ios andriod Are you there are you there、 What to do without a portfolio?

That’s not verbatim, but it captures the essence. Missing punctuation, misused punctuation, spaces instead of commas, extra spaces, mixed Chinese and English punctuation, misspelled words, misused words, no clear topics… It’s a catalog of common communication errors.

Language’s main purpose is communication. It’s the agreed-upon system for expressing concepts. Ignoring language norms is like disconnecting from that system. It’s a big deal. Even in casual texts, I think it’s important to use “的,” “地,” and “得” correctly. These details are often overlooked. It’s not about language purity; it’s about making things easier for the reader. Standard language helps.

The Mindset of Writing a Press Release

Think of your messages like press releases. Unless you’re just shooting the breeze with a close friend, there’s usually a point.

The jumbled message above, besides being imprecise, suffers from scattered topics. How do you even answer that? If you’re confused and need help, write a clear request for help. The example above isn’t even an outline.

Clear messages have structure. Start with a sentence stating the topic, then elaborate, point by point. If you’re informing someone, state the key facts. If you need something, explain why, and ideally, offer a solution. If you’re reporting a problem, give enough details for troubleshooting.

When friends ask for computer help, they often just say, “My computer’s broken, help!” And then they wait for me to ask questions. I wish just once someone would proactively tell me the error message, if it’s happened before, when it started, what they did before and after, what they tried, and what the results were.

Imagine a robbery. The police arrive, and the victim just keeps saying, “I’ve been robbed! Catch the thief!” The case won’t get solved.

Focused conversations are efficient. A ten-minute explanation can drag on for an hour due to poor communication. Wasting someone’s time is a cardinal sin.

Modern Big-Character Posters

China has a thing for slogan banners and posters. For urban planning: “Gather all forces, plan water management, build a harmonious city, promote the water town image, and establish a legacy.” For construction safety: “Safety creates happiness, negligence brings pain. Safety is efficiency, safety is happiness.” For hospitals: “Create a safe hospital, build harmonious doctor-patient relations.”

Let’s not even get into the slogans themselves. The point is, the people behind these didn’t consider their audience or tone. A slogan near a military area was actually good: “Obey the Party’s command, be able to win battles, and have a good work style.” It’s hierarchical and logical. Most importantly, it’s clear and unambiguous.

News and official outlets use vague language to be inclusive and cover all bases. But this isn’t just a media thing. We’ve all encountered people who write in an overly formal or flowery style at work. Think of those landing pages: a confusing illustration with shopping carts and money flying everywhere, and text like, “Enjoy endless discounts.”

I remember one ad clearly. I forget the brand, but it showed traditional soy sauce making. The spokesperson, standing by a field of drying soybeans, said plainly, “Just dry it here, just rely on the sun.” A less direct approach might have been: “XX hectares of soybean processing, natural air-drying.” That’s uninspiring. No matter how accurate or fancy, it lacks imagery.

You can see the ad’s directness here: http://t.cn/RcxcZ3I.

It reminds me of a joke with my classmates:

“The rolling Yangtze River flows eastward…"

Topic Guardian

After I started working, someone commented on my chat style again, saying I was “chatting with my life.” They explained that with others, it’s a back-and-forth. With me, they’d see me “typing” for ages, sometimes over ten minutes. They’d return from getting water to find a massive, multi-paragraph message from me, addressing every tangent from the earlier conversation.

So, I do have that habit! I don’t let topics die; I need closure. I can see how this would be tiring in casual chats. I don’t want to be like this. I’d prefer to stick to one thing. But once the conversation derails, even if it’s not my fault, I feel compelled to keep it going. If the other person is fine with this style, I’m the one who ends up exhausted.

Long messages have pros and cons. The downside is making people wait. But the upside is preventing further tangents. If, mid-reply, something reminds the other person of something else, they might interrupt, creating more branches. It’s very common.

This is a dilemma. Wasting time is bad, so shouldn’t I avoid long waits? But if I don’t control the topics, forgotten points might need revisiting later, which also wastes time. In text chat, prioritizing the other person’s experience means choosing the less time-consuming option. Letting topics explode seems like a lesser evil.

Oh, Hehe, [Grin]

These are the worst replies, the ultimate conversation killers. Why? They’re short and meaningless, yes. But the real problem is they don’t reflect the sender’s state. They replied, but didn’t actually respond. You don’t know if they understood; they could have been typing those replies mindlessly.

It’s like sending an email with no loading indicator or confirmation. The compose window stays open. You close it, and the email’s nowhere: not in Sent, Outbox, Drafts, Inbox, Junk, or Spam. WTF?

It sounds ridiculous, but these conversations happen all the time. An Android developer asked me for an asset. I asked how he planned to use it – fixed size or .9 patch? He replied, “Okay.” I thought he’d hit send accidentally. But after 30 seconds, not even a “typing” indicator. The topic died, forcing me to start a new round of questions.

Tech people should understand feedback. The TCP/IP handshake is a prime example: Client sends to server: “I want to connect.” Server replies: “Is this what you sent? Is it you?” Client confirms: “Yes, it’s me, let’s connect.”

Humans are good at context, machines less so. But even with context, clear feedback is crucial. At the very least, reply with “OK” or “Received.” If there’s a choice, repeat the chosen option.

Conclusion

Looking back at my IM interactions, there’s a clear divide. Some people are a breeze to communicate with; others make you want to just call. The same task, expressed differently in text, leads to vastly different experiences.

Experience design is everywhere, and it’s practical. Strip away the methodologies, and you’re left with one core principle: Put yourself in the other person’s shoes.