Good UX isn’t about saying “we told you”: Why clear content is crucial for creating a good user experience
I recently spent £300 to be sent on a wild goose chase.
Or at least, that’s what it felt like.
I ordered a £300 Medication Check test from Bupa, hoping to get some results ahead of my upcoming neurology appointment.
Except, one easily missed instruction meant my DNA sample couldn’t be processed and I had to start the whole process again (and I’d no longer have the results in time for my appointment).
Technically, the information I needed was there. But simply putting the right information in front of someone doesn’t automatically make it a good user experience.
Because good UX isn’t just about what you tell people. It’s about understanding what they’re trying to do, what they need at that moment, and making it as easy as possible for them to do it.
And my recent experience with Bupa is a pretty good example of why clear content matters.
Is it user error or a poor user experience?
I’d ordered a Medication Check test from Bupa. The kit arrived, I took my DNA sample, packaged everything up, and sent it back.
Two weeks later, I received an email telling me the lab couldn’t process my sample.
Why?
I hadn’t included the returns form.
So, I dug out the paperwork I’d kept and looked again. And sure enough, the instruction was there.

Squeezed into a tiny A6-sized box containing seven different instructions, bullet point five said:
“Then put the bag and this form in the returns box.”
That was it.
There was nothing to say this particular instruction was critical. Nothing warning me that if I missed it, my sample couldn’t be processed. Nothing telling me I’d have to start the whole process again.
But the information was there.
And yes, you could stop me right here and say, “Well, that’s just user error. You didn’t follow the instructions” and do you know what? You’d be right.
It was user error. I did fail to follow the instructions.
But the reason I failed is because the user experience was so confusing.
Good UX isn’t about being able to say “we told you”
Now, Bupa could have just said “well, we did tell you”. After all, they did put that information on the paperwork.
But, even though the information was there, it still resulted in a broken user journey.
That small bullet point typed in a size 8 font was too easy to miss. But in order to understand why it was so easy to miss, you need to look at everything else I was doing at the time.
The user journey can be longer, more nuanced, and more fiddly than you think
Here’s what my user journey looked like from the moment I received my kit:
- Open the box
- Try to find the instruction leaflet
- Read through the leaflet
- Read through the leaflet a second time while grabbing all the components I need to do my test
- Read through the leaflet a third time while following the steps (which includes ripping open the swab, swabbing my cheek, counting while swabbing, opening the sample tube, popping the swab inside, snapping the swab, closing the sample lid, disposing of the leftover swab handle)
- Then I had to find a barcode sticker and follow instructions to put that sticker on the sample tube, ensuring I did it the right way round
- Put the sample tube in a biohazard bag and seal it
- Put the sample back inside the box
- Read the instructions again and see it just says “Post it back to us”
- Spend a few minutes looking over the paperwork to see if they say how to send it back (they don’t)
- Notice it’s a Royal Mail returns label so assume I can just take it to my local returns locker
- Follow the instructions to stick the returns label on the box
That’s a lot of tiny tasks all adding to my cognitive load.
With all that faffing, my eyes had completely skipped over the line that said “Then put the bag and this form in the returns box”. And, being completely honest, I also missed another instruction on the other side of the paperwork that told me to write the date of my sample.
But this is the exact type of situation where good user experience really matters.
When you ask someone to do something, you need to think about what else is going on for them in that very same moment. In this case, my task at hand was to complete a DNA sample and send it back.
While doing that, I’m scanning all the information, looking for the most important steps, interpreting what I need to do, and doing it.
There was nothing to tell my brain:
“HEY. THIS BIT IS IMPORTANT. IF YOU DON’T DO THIS. NONE OF THE OTHER STUFF YOU DID MATTERS”.
This is why I write copy through a user-led lens
The user experience is something I’m thinking about all the time when I’m writing copy and content for businesses. I’m not just thinking:
What do we need to tell people?
I’m also thinking:
What does this person need from us at this exact point in the journey?
What are they trying to accomplish? What do they expect to happen next? What information matters most right now? What might confuse them? What do they need to feel confident taking the next step? What happens if they misunderstand something?
And, the big one: How can I make this easy for them?
Approaching your business copy and content through that user-led lens completely changes the way you write.
It’s also why I’m big on bringing copy and design together
Whenever I’m writing website copy, I always create lo-fi wireframes in Figma. And even when I’m writing ad copy or writing for brochures, you’ll likely catch me sketching things out on paper to see what it might look like.
Why? Because your content doesn’t exist independently from the experience around it.
A CTA button goes hand-in-hand with all the information someone wants to receive before they feel comfortable clicking it. A form has to be paired with clear instructions for how to fill it out. A landing page needs to reflect the ad, search result, or email that sent somebody there.
And if your content isn’t easy to follow or your design is too distracting, your users are likely to run into problems.
If we look back at the Bupa form, we can see that on one side there’s a list of wordy instructions. In the middle, there’s an image showing how to apply the label to the tube. And, on the other side, there’s a bunch of ID information and a box featuring an entry field where I can write a date, followed by instructions underneath it about the label.
Not pictured is the other piece of A4 paper detailing the instructions for taking my sample. So, at the same time as completing the sample, my eyes are also darting here, there, and everywhere between these two pieces of paper to figure out what I need to do.

It’s why writing with a user-led approach needs you to consider the full user experience across both copy and design.
Sometimes, you might need to add more information. Sometimes, you need to say less. Sometimes, you have to re-order things. Sometimes, you have to turn three paragraphs into three bullet points.
Other times, you have to make a box blue so the copy stands out, put something in bold text, or putting a sentence in whopping great big letters because that is the one sentence you absolutely cannot afford for somebody to miss.
Which brings me back to Bupa…
If something is critical, it needs to look and sound critical
After I received the email telling me my sample couldn’t be processed, I contacted Bupa.
Their customer support team were brilliant.
I explained what had happened and also fed back on the experience. I pointed out that the requirement to return the form was incredibly easy to miss and suggested that something as simple as a clear banner saying “You must include this form with your sample” would make the importance much clearer.
What can I say, it’s hard for me to turn off my work brain sometimes…
The team was brilliant. They swiftly sent out a new kit and assured me they’d try to fast track my new sample.
And when my new kit arrived, I got a surprise.
The returns form was completely different.
It turns out, I must have received an older version of the form with my original test.
The newer version addressed almost every problem I’d noticed.
Instead of seven instructions crammed together in tiny text, the instructions had been drastically simplified.
Instead of putting another instruction inside the box where I needed to write the date, the new design gave the date one clear job.
And running across the bottom in big, bold, red text was a warning:
“YOU MUST INCLUDE THIS COMPLETED RETURNS FORM IN YOUR RETURNS BOX FOR YOUR SAMPLE TO BE PROCESSED.”
In other words:
The critical information finally looked critical.


The difference between the two forms is pretty striking. The first buries the returns form requirement among seven instructions. The revised version strips back the competing information and gives that requirement its own prominent warning.
Now, I want to very quickly make something clear here…
I don’t think Bupa saw my email, held an emergency UX meeting, and redesigned the form overnight. I’d obviously just received an older version the first time around.
But it meant that I accidentally got to hold a real-life before and after of UX improvement.
The problems I’d experienced as a user had already been recognised somewhere within the business, and the new version showed how relatively small changes to content, hierarchy and design could make the process significantly easier to follow.
Good UX is something you keep working on
This isn’t a Bupa teardown. Far from it, in fact.
Bupa did an incredible job at reviewing their own form and improving it. I just had the joy of getting to accidentally experience it from the perspective of a user.
Bupa has its own UX team and clearly cares a lot about creating user experiences that work. Back in 2022, Becky Colley shared openly online about her experience as a Lead Product Designer (UX) at Bupa and establishing a UX community of practice there. In this detailed process, you can see exactly how she helped fine tune the way they approach UX and make organisation-wide improvements by encouraging the team to share work, critique one another’s designs, run retrospectives, and continually learn from what was and wasn’t working.
That’s important because UX isn’t something you “do” once.
Writing and designing something is the first step.
You then have to watch what happens, listen to users, see how they engage with it, identify points of friction, test ways to improve it, and do it all again.
The fact that I ended up with two different versions of the same form is a neat little demonstration of that process in action.
The second version still isn’t perfect. For example, it tells you to return your sample within seven days but still doesn’t make particularly clear how you’re supposed to return it. But it’s a substantially clearer experience than the one I encountered first and that’s a huge step in the right direction.
In healthcare, confusing content can have bigger consequences
There’s another reason why this example interests me.
This wasn’t an ecommerce return where a confusing instruction meant my jumper took an extra week to refund.
It was healthcare.
My original sample couldn’t be processed, so I had to repeat the test.
Results can take several weeks.
And because of that delay, I won’t have the information in time for the appointment I’d originally hoped to use it for. The appointment that’s taken my over eleven years to secure.
Suddenly, a tiny piece of unclear content has a much bigger consequence.
That’s why I think the bar for user experience needs to be particularly high in sectors such as healthcare and financial services. There’s so much more on the line.
In SEO, Google uses the term YMYL (Your Money or Your Life) for topics that could significantly affect people’s health, financial stability, safety or wider wellbeing. Google says its systems give greater weight to signals associated with strong E-E-A-T for these topics because of the potential consequences of poor-quality information.
Although YMYL is primarily an SEO and search quality concept, it’s one that I think holds a lot of weight when you’re thinking about content design.
The higher the consequences of somebody misunderstanding your content, the greater your responsibility to make that content clear.
Healthcare users, for example, aren’t necessarily interacting with your content under ideal conditions. They might be ill, stressed, tired, in pain, worried about a diagnosis, experiencing serious medical burnout… And then they’ve got the job of trying to complete a fiddly DNA test while wondering why on earth nobody has told them where they’re supposed to post the bloody thing.
The NHS’s own service design guidance reflects this. It says healthcare teams should understand users’ clinical, practical and emotional needs, consider their entire experience rather than one isolated part of a service, and make services simple enough that people can succeed first time.

Its health content standard also explicitly says content should be based on user needs, tested with users, simple and clear, and improved based on feedback. They also state you should make your content easy to use, advising that you “make sure your content and design are simple and clear”.
This isn’t fluffy “make it user friendly” stuff. In healthcare, clarity and accessibility can affect whether someone successful accesses a service they need.
Accessible content is more than ticking an accessibility box
This is also where UX starts to cross over into something I think businesses need to consider more broadly, which is socially conscious service design.
Things like adding alt text, meeting colour-contrast ratios, or passing a WCAG audit are important for accessibility. But accessible service design also needs to consider the reality of the people using the service.
It has to take into account whether someone can understand what you’re asking them to do and if they’re able to complete the process. And if they can’t, what happens then?
When writing and designing content, you need to ask yourself whether you have created this content with your actual users in mind. Because, frankly, there’s no point creating content for an imaginary perfectly attentive user when that doesn’t reflect the reality of your real-life users.
The NHS makes a similar distinction in its guidance, recommending that services account for physical, mental-health, social, cultural and learning needs and design for low digital and health literacy. It even points out that using simple language helps people who are sick or stressed, not only people with recognised access needs.
And its content accessibility guidance makes a wonderfully simple point:
Clear content helps everyone.
Good content improves the user experience
My little DNA-test wild goose chase reinforced my belief that good content isn’t just about finding the right words. It’s about understanding what those words actually need to do to improve someone’s experience.
Whenever I’m writing copy or content, I want to know where someone has come from, what they’re trying to achieve, what they need from us right now and what needs to happen next.
Because technically correct content can still fail and a tiny sentence buried amongst six other instructions can completely derail the entire journey.
Sometimes, you need to change a heading. Or maybe you need to remove half the words. Or, perhaps, you just need to put one sentence in huge red letters to explain YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED TO DO THIS BIT.
Because good UX is about designing an experience that actually lets your users succeed.

