Adaptive Path Blog

In 1998, the Internet bubble was growing by leaps and bounds, foosball and Red Bull were the drugs of choice and Flash (looky here! things can move!) was the new girl in school.

Interactive marketing departments and agencies rode the wave and launched an endlessly creative and exhaustive set of irritating, pointless Flash site intros that showcased their brands, showed off their knowledge of the newest tools, and revealed their utter contempt for people who wanted easy, quick access to information. Remember folks…the 14.4k modem was still in play. Companies seemed to think it was okay to force-feed people animated marketing fluff as the cost of entry to a Web site.

The hack Skip Intro was the perfect commentary on Flash madness. Set to an oh-so-current musical score and using all the best of Flash’s moving and shaking features, Skip Intro danced itself into user experience fame by throwing back the curtain on the true perceptions of the Flash site intro.

A few years after it made the Internet meme rounds, Skip Intro disappeared. Now I’m happy to discover that it’s back online, thanks to creator Yacco Vijn cleaning out his digital attic.

It’s 10 years later, it still has the power to amaze and delight. View the madness at www.skipintros.com. You get double points if you saw this the first time around.

Happy birthday, Skip Intro. So glad you’re back.

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In my mind, it seemed perfect: Technologists and transit-enthusiasts coming together to rethink the transit experience. A chance to bring the experience design gospel to an industry in need. Brimming with missionary zeal, my transportation planner husband and I headed off to the Bay Area TransitCamp.

I wasn’t prepared for the culture shock. My idealism was greeted by a ragtag bunch consisting of khaki-clad engineers, frumpy transit riders and suit-wearing transit officials. The engineers preached the possibilities of open-source data. White-haired transit riders screeched frustrations about their particular pet issues. And the transit officials defended cuts to bathroom-cleaning with the hard, cold facts of their bureaucratic reality.

Welcome to TransitCamp.

Could this possibly be the crowd that would transform transit? It felt like anarchy. “No complaints without solutions” was the only rule, and organizer Tara Hunt had to reiterate it again and again. Yet as idealism and realism collided, something impressive happened. We learned from one another. iPhone app developers learned that 40% of riders are below the poverty line. Cost-conscious officials learned that dozens of techies are eager to develop solutions — for free.

I realized that making a difference requires a humble and listening posture. Transit is an interdisciplinary problem that requires interdisciplinary understanding. While it produced interesting ideas, TransitCamp’s greatest triumph was fostering an atmosphere of learning and collaboration between unlikely bedfellows.

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“Is there such a thing as sustainable experience design?” In our internal discussions of The Designers Accord, Jesse posed this question. Not being industrial designers, we generally aren’t qualified to address product life-cycle issues such as materials & processes or transportation logistics in any meaningful way. But, as Jesse suggested, perhaps we can bring a new perspective to the sustainability conversation that other disciplines haven’t yet considered.

Experience is closely tied to sustainable behavior: People act un-sustainably because it’s often much easier or results in a better experience than doing otherwise. (It’s much more convenient and pleasant to drive my car wherever I want.) Thus, experience designers are uniquely-poised to encourage sustainability by capitalizing on what we know about human behavior as well as business strategy. We have the capacity to:

Make sustainable experiences more compelling than the alternatives. How can we make doing what’s best in the long run more attractive in the short run? (e.g., Make transit a better experience than driving.)

Understand and appeal to people’s motivations, values and aspirations. As ethnographers, we know how to tap into the subconscious motivations that unwittingly shape behavior. How can we appeal to these tendencies at points of decision so that right choices become the most natural choices?

Harness the power of information to help people make better decisions. As information designers, we know how to make the abstract concrete and make hidden costs visible, visualize the future, and tell stories. The right information can not only influence decisions when presented at critical moments, it can also shape underlying attitudes and values — a necessary component of lasting change.

Promote a service-mindset vs. a product-mindset. As Liya Zheng put it in her post on Service Design and Sustainability: “Think about how to appeal to consumers and businesses with a complete solution that goes beyond the product itself, and where possible, minimize the use of products by delivering great services.”

Communicate the business value of sustainability. Green sells! Businesses for whom green is central to their identity, value proposition or business strategy are more successful than businesses that adopt a cause just because they ought to. As design strategists, we can help companies find ways to turn sustainability into profitability.

But while it’s easy to identify how we COULD contribute, the tricky part, especially for us as consultants, is finding real opportunities to exercise these skills. While design educators can shape future generations of designers and business-people, and in-house designers can shape their company’s culture and product/service strategy, we’re often brought in for specific, often screen-based projects that seemingly have nothing to do with sustainability.

Does it really make sense, as the Accord calls for, to have a sustainability conversation with every client? How can we avoid coming across as pretentious do-gooders?

What best practices can we promote in our interaction design work (e.g., strive to reduce computer use by promoting more energy-efficient means of information access such as mobile)?

How can we identify clients and projects where the skills outlined above can be applied?

These are the questions we’re left wondering about and debating. If anyone has any thoughts or perspectives, we’d love to hear them.

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Internally to Adaptive Path, we have a series of mailing lists that help us keep in touch with each other, discuss design topics or even just talk about current issues.

A recent post came from Dan Saffer where he pointed us all to these tongue-in-cheek stickers that could be used to call out “bad design”. These stickers offer warning label-style comments such as “Consult a typographer” or “Severe lack of creativity” and “Good idea wasted by poor execution”.

Dan’s intention was to share a funny take on the honest frustration that many designers feel when they see design that could have been better. The result he got on the mailing list was a very typical and spirited debate. Rather that writing a post about the stickers myself, I thought I’d just share the conversation.

First, here is the site: http://www.design-police.org/

Dan: We need a set of these. And to make a set for IxD/IA!

Kim: Absolutely brilliant. We should definitely make some for IxD/IA!

Peter: I’m sorry. This is the kind of holier-than-thou crap about inconsequential bullshit that has encouraged marginalizing designers because they behave as a bunch of mindless aesthetes with no concern for issues other than appropriate typography, and little interest in things that actually matter.

Dan: Since when is good visual design inconsequential bullshit? Aesthetics matter, and good typography and composition are essential parts of that. It’s all part of a chain: bad type –> bad visuals –> bad experience. Ignore this stuff and you get sloppy, ugly work.

Is it more mindless to not care about how something looks, or to practice good visual design? Good experiences are made up of good details.

Jesse: I completely agree with Dan that aesthetics matter, but to Peter’s point, if I were a bettin’ man, I wouldn’t wager that “Kern this!” is the most important or valuable message a client needs to hear.

Dan: Oh god no, I’d never use these for a client. I assumed these were stickers for internal reviews.

Peter: I’m not saying aesthetics aren’t important. I’m saying that the attitude exhibited by this set of stickers is indicative of a mindless condescension that has lead to the marginalization of the practice of visual design. It’s no different than “usability engineers” who decry the state of the Web and want to impose their small-minded ruleset.

While your point (”bad type –> bad visuals –> bad experience”) has validity, what it doesn’t recognize is that tone matters. And this catty attempt at humor represented by this design-police is exactly why they are ignored.

Kim: I saw these as a joke - funny, haha, humorous, poking fun in the same way the video “make the logo bigger” is funny. I never saw these as a serious endeavor or something to be used in a professional setting.

Creating them for IxD and IA would be a way of poking fun at ourselves and the things that we continually hear in our practice.

I cannot tell you how many times my husband (a print advertising graphic designer) looks at print ads with disgust and espouses “Man, they need to kern that!” He thought the stickers were funny, but was disappointed that they lacked the traditional copy editor marks, using text instead.

Andrew: I’m not a fan of these. I remember a while back when there was so much discussion about make Design a licensable practice. I thought it was arrogant then, I think it’s still an offensive idea.

That’s not to say that these stickers (which were created as an obvious joke) embody this sentiment. I simply feel that there might be a more positive way to express the inside joke. I love the KERN hoodie from Veer. I think not only is it clever, but it conveys a wink-wink to other designers without offending the ignorant. These stickers seem to take the joke a little too far.

Like Kim’s husband, I’ve done it a thousand times where I get angry at poor typography, incorrect color balance in duotones, mis-registration or poor copy. Jannine’s heard an earful. But, if I were ever to express that to that designer or that secretary, I’d probably try a more educative and sympathetic approach.

That’s not to say we can’t have our fun with poor design. There is a some seriously shitty work out there. So, if the spirit of things like this are meant to be playful or as an inside joke, there’s fun in that.

What’s the interaction design equivalent version of the KERN hoodie?

Kate: Interesting points. While I agree with Peter that the “I’m entitled to judge because I know more and better than you” is mean-spirited and plays to the worst of egoist-designers-as-gods, there is the opportunity to have something like stickers that highlight moving toward a greater good.

For example, “legible from space” and “Microscope required” are a comment on “hey, buddy! Folks aren’t going to read this because of a *serious* flaw that you oughtta fix.” That’s more like the Billboard Liberation League’s public service messages than the League of Self-Appointed Extraordinary Designers self-serving know-it-all.

I’d be happy to have similar stickers (depending on message) and I would use them. But I also want a set that celebrate effective design. Red=no. Green=yes. We should support honest celebration of good things…not center ourselves on being police and judges.

Domino magazine has stickers that you can use to tag ideas you like. It’s helpful and warm and engaging. If we could bring a “make the world better” smile into the stickers, it would make them much more human…more like us.

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There you have it. A brief insight into what we talk about at the office. I’d love to hear your thoughts about the stickers, on criticising design or if you’d like to hear more of our ramblings.

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Just before the holiday break, I was driving on the 24 freeway right at the Caldecott tunnel when I saw that someone had put up one strand of Christmas lights in the dirty window of the little office that sits at the base of the tunnel. When I thought about it, I realized that someone did that intentionally to create a little holiday spirit in an otherwise bleak location.

When we talk about experience design, we discuss it in terms of intentional efforts to create an experience for a product or service. There are meetings, decisions, consultants, plans and well-made executions – all of this with an eye towards producing a purposeful, desired experience for an individual or group of people.

But, the person that put those Christmas lights did all those things, too. Maybe not in a conscious or thought-out manner, but there was an intention to create an experience.

So, my question is, do human beings always intentionally design experiences – even unknowningly?

Outside of acts of God or nature (things that we cannot control), we create experiences for ourselves every day. We organize our closets in a certain way to make dressing in the morning efficient, we walk certain streets because we find them pleasant, we cook our food for taste, we decorate at holidays to create a mood and tradition.

What causes us to do this? Do we simply like it? Or is there a deeper need?

As experience designers, are there ways to build upon this trait? Can we somehow expand on this assumed, basic human behavior? Are there ways to recognize these natural tendencies and leverage them when we design experiences?

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I’ve been trying to explain to my new zen meditation advisor what exactly I do. And today he got it:

“Ok. Here’s something for you and your people to work on. I just want one device. Wireless is critical so I can take it everywhere with me. And there has to be just one login for everything. All those passwords are the bane of my existence. And everything should just work together. It would be great if you guys could do that.”

Consider it done. Happy holidays.

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The shopping experience at clothing stores is much better than it used to be. The layout of the store tends to provide more open space for shoppers than it did just five years ago. Even in department stores, gone are the days of being squeezed in between the sale rack and some soulless sweater display with a half dressed mannequin. It seems there are more boutiques focused on one style or catering to a well thought out target audience than ever before. There are places for people to sit, often with those nice little tables with magazines. I’ve noticed this in nearly every U.S. city I’ve visited this year from Chicago, to DC, to Santa Fe.

Where most of these stores still sadly continue to fail is the real point of sale: the dressing room. It’s a terrible experience. The lighting is enough to compromise anyone’s self esteem. The fluorescent lighting not only makes me look bad, but the shirt or sweater that looked great on the shelf or rack, now looks different. And all too often, there isn’t anyone to help me decide if I’m about to buy something that will make me look like an idiot, stylish, savvy, or smart.

I recently learned that Anthropologie has a service where you can work with a stylist for free. (Sorry guys, no men’s clothes yet.) Having been less than inspired by my wardrobe lately, I signed up for an hour with Maria. First she sat me down and asked me several question: what did I like, what was I looking for, what colors did I hate? Then we walked through the store and she helped pick things out. We picked out probably 20 things — half of which I would never pick out on my own, but I was there to try new things.

The dressing room at Anthropologie isn’t amazing, but it’s better than most. The lighting isn’t enough to make me run, and it’s always well-staffed. This is the experience differentiator that Anthropologie offers: the support of someone that knows my likes and dislikes and how I want to improve my wardrobe. I tried everything on, ventured out and modeled it to her. Maria gave me her opinion and ideas for different things that I could do with the pants, shirts, or dresses, or as Maria referred to them ‘pieces’. While I didn’t quite feel like I was buying art, it was a lovely experience. I felt supported, confident, and even inspired.

Without the time with Maria, I wouldn’t have spent a dime at Anthropologie, but after an hour, I gladly walked up to the counter and spent a couple hundred dollars. I hope to go back a few times a year to meet with Maria. She even said I could bring old clothes from home and she’d help me work them into new outfits.

This experience struck me as an opportunity for a retail clothing store to transform how they think about their business, and specifically, how the business defines the job of the sales people. If a store made everyone that walked in the door feel like they had a stylist, I imagine that point of sale in the dressing room (hopefully with better lighting) would be a whole new opportunity.

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Chiara Fox & I spent Monday and Tuesday getting our geek on at the She’s Geeky unconference in Mountain View. In addition to hanging out with smart, geeky gals and learning about a wide variety of tech+ topics, there were other things that made the experience notable, memorable and impactful.

What made it different:

• Use of the Open Space principles / Unconference structure
• Wide range of topics, diversity of skills, interests and life experiences
• Fully participatory - it was what you made of it
• All the participant were female, geeky and proud of it
• The participants created the conference contents

Highlights of the experience
The unconference format allowed for participation from anyone and everyone. If you wanted to connect with others about an idea, you were encouraged to add it to the lineup. There was a big sheet of paper where participants could post their sessions (aka: the grid.)

The grid changed and grew throughout the day. The principles of Open Space made it okay to have a big group, or just one person (yes, you can convene a group of 1!) Key to the process was the following:

• Whoever comes are the right people / is the right person.
• Whatever happens is the only thing that would have.
• Whenever it starts is the right time.
• Whenever it is over it is over.
• If you are not learning something or sharing something, you have the responsibility to respectfully move to somewhere you are.

Topics were wide and varied…Art + Craft + Geek; GIMP for open source image editing; Shameless Promotion; Guerrilla Tactics of a Diversity Evangelist; Cyber Bullying; What challenging questions should we be asking ourselves? and more.

The Computer History Museum is a fantastic location. One big room for lunch and discussion tables, and smaller rooms for breakout sessions. The espresso bar kept us jazzed for the 2 days.

What made it work? Every activity was grounded in participation:

• You make your own nametag with a nametagcloud
• Snap a poloaroid and write up your own profile
• Write your name on your coffee mug (and drink custom coffee drinks all day!)
• Open lunch table sessions on the first day

What I learned?

• If you want participants to make their own experience, use a format that includes them in the design of that experience.
• Invite interested, interesting people…and interesting things will happen.
• Be inclusive…create many ways to get involved and engaged.
• Make it consistently participative.

Many of the session notes are available on the She’s Geeky site, and lots of photos are on Flickr.

I’ll definitely go next year!

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I have been following the story of Carol Gotbaum, the 45-year mother of three who died in a Phoenix airport holding cell two weeks ago and feel both sadness and anger.

Sadness for Carol’s family and their senseless loss.

Anger at the people we become inside airports.

Sure, we all complain the experience of air travel can really suck. However, Carol’s story indicates there is something more amiss and sinister happening to us and the experience inside airports than basic human frustration at long lines and poor service.

I think back to a recent trip to Europe and recognize my own culpability - my annoyance at fellow travelers who stood too close to me in line and kept hitting me with their rolling suitcase, passing judgement at people who had the audacity to try and bring a bottle of water through the security checkpoint, contempt for the security guard who confiscated my expensive face moisturizer because it exceeded the 3oz limit for carry on luggage.

What has happened to us?

How is it that the social rules and expectations around air travel have plummeted to a place where someone like Carol, who was so clearly in need of help and compassion is instead arrested, locked up and, within a matter of minutes, dead?

Why has our fear of terrorism turned airports into some strange alternate universe where are willing to check our dignity at the door? How is it that we tolerate being herded through security gates like cattle in stocking feet, and are more interested in making sure our hair gel and hand lotion are in a zip-lock bag than showing patience and empathy for our fellow passengers?

If experiences are a reflection of what we value, what does Carol Gotbaum’s story have to teach us about ourselves and the people we become inside airports?

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Two years after it launched, the New York Times pulls the plug on TimesSelect. Their rationale?

“Since we launched TimesSelect in 2005, the online landscape has altered significantly. Readers increasingly find news through search, as well as through social networks, blogs and other online sources. In light of this shift, we believe offering unfettered access to New York Times reporting and analysis best serves the interest of our readers, our brand and the long-term vitality of our journalism.”

I’m happy to see the Times reconsider its poor decision making. It’s refreshing to see an older, more established organization begin to question fundamental assumptions about its business and brand. What continues to mystify me is that it took two years to see the writing on the wall.

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