I was going to write a scathing article on how most consumer items developed today squarely place form, image, style, and status before function. But, I've decided instead to try to look at things a little differently.
There are many aspects to our lives, most of which have some interface with technology or traditionally functional items. From the man who complains about his partner on a private internet chat forum, to the boy who cycles his bicycle for fun, to the lady switching on a light so she can read. We are surrounded by appliances, things which do a job, or in some cases, many jobs, and which we rely on for modern living. In all cases, these items are there to make our lives somehow better, though sometimes it seems that they are sent from the deepest depths of hell to vex us and leave us in a bad mood.
That interface between humans and the things we use is vitally important. In many cases, we just want it to work and do so with the least amount of fuss, but in some cases, just doing a designated job is not in and of itself enough. Often, we want an experience which makes us feel good. We want a quality experience. A simple example of this is the car. For some, it is a purely utilitarian tool, where the brand, the appearance, the slightly more tactile door handles, the extra little finishing touches, are all of no significance. For them, things such as fuel economy, safety, load capacity, cost of ownership and such all matter more. But, they are not the norm. For most of us, myself included, other things make a difference. We pick a colour we like, select some optional extras, and generally pick a car which reflects our values. If you want a car which makes a statement about yourself, there are plenty to pick from. If you want a car which carries you in comfort, they too are abundant. So, we take out our wallets, work out what we can afford and decide which car best meets our desires as well as our constraints.
But, why do we do this? In some cases, there are real utilitarian purposes behind things we don't usually view as such. For example, most salespeople have to keep up a certain level of professional image. Their car might be an extension of that image, so picking a car which portrays the right message might be of professional importance to them, to the point that it might make the difference between them winning a deal and not.
For many of us though, there is a different reason. We want to have a higher quality experience. Good enough is just not good enough. It has to go the extra mile and satisfy our desires too. Some people will even take this to an extreme, like those who seemingly dedicate time and money to having something that gives them the best experience they can have.
A car is ostensibly designed for one purpose; it transports you. Some people, myself included, pervert that and for them, the journey is often all that matters. My little sports car is not very good for transport. It is poor at handling wet roads (it aquaplanes on even the least standing water), noisy, uncomfortable, inefficient, not pretty (I'm being delicate here), demanding to drive, has nowhere for luggage, leaks water from the roof, and all in all, it is not a good car. But, sometimes for my purposes, it is more ideal than the vast majority of cars out there. Unlike most cars, the interface between the machine and the driver is not softened. It demands attention when being driven, but with that attention, it rewards with response. Most cars have a very noticeable delay between the time you turn the steering-wheel and the time it takes to fully respond. My little car is incredibly direct. Every little action has a noticeable reaction. In the end, one can be much more at one with the car, and in doing so, one is much more rewarded by the experience. At least, that is what it is like for me. The beauty of it is that as there is little attempt at dampening the experience, for those who want the thrill of speed will get it at speeds that are still very safe.
So, for me, the quality of the experience is greater with my car than with most others, though at times, the cost in terms of comfort and such is too much to bear and I pick to drive a different car. Many others get the same satisfaction out of other items, such as an audiophile listening to her high quality sound-system, or the Internet user interacting with the beautifully designed browser, or the food connoisseur who delights in the fine taste of his wild Atlantic salmon.
Often, as an engineer, it is easy to dismiss technically inferior products, especially when they are more expensive, but in real terms, to do so is often to miss the value that the consumer sees in those products. For instance, Apple iPods are known for not having industry leading sound quality. Actually, they are often rated at average or below. For an item designed for listening to music, you would expect that this is a bad thing. An engineer, with her engineering hat on, would almost certainly dismiss the iPod as being of less value than its industry peers, that are usually cheaper and have greater functionality. So, why is the iPod so successful? There are many factors, but ultimately, it offers greater value to the consumers who buy it. For some, it is the interface, for others, it is the appearance, and for others still, it is the brand. All of these do in some way contribute to the quality of the item, to the experience that the end user has. One thing that I have often found is that the limitations that the iPod imposes are often accepted and dismissed as being the same for all competitors, even when such is not true. Many consumers believe they are buying the best music player, and that anything it can't do, others can't either. This gives a degree of comfort that should not be dismissed.
In the end, we as engineers have to look at the quality of the experience. When we design an interface, being cool is good, being functional is good, but most important of all is the experience and the quality that the user gets from it. If it has pretty animations, that's nice, but as soon as they start to distract and annoy the user, they just take away from the experience. Having extra features is good, but as soon as it becomes difficult for the user to do what they want, or makes them feel ignorant, then things have gone too far. We need to design the interface that allows all end users get what they want, and yet is not so hard for beginners to use that they are turned off.
For those of us who work with computers, there is an added bonus. Quality often is relatively free to implement. Using a walnut veneer to a car dashboard makes it more expensive to make the car. Similarly, high quality audio equipment is more costly to make than cheaper equipment, but with computer interfaces, the cost is at most our time, and with some careful forethought and proper design, that can be kept under control. If one applies proper modular design approaches and makes some smart choices, the interface (the single biggest source of user experienced quality of software) can be detached from the rest of the application and so interface design can take place as an almost separate and parallel process to the actual functional design. We can deliver a quality product without really compromising on functionality and without actually adding to the material cost of the product. Of course, extra time is spent in developing the product, but after that, the actual cost is small and the unit cost is basically the same.
Of course, most of us already know the above, but sometimes, as a software-engineer, it is easy to fail to apply the same principles we do to interface design and compare products on their measurable differences usually coming to the conclusion that consumers usually pick the wrong item, which of course, is to fail to realise that they are making the right decision for them and it is just that we have difficulty measuring that which was important for them in making their decision.
We may never be truly able to measure quality. Lets be honest, we have difficulty in properly defining it. But at the end of the day, it is probably the most important thing. So, rather than make important that which we can measure, why not just remember that often it is that which we can't measure that is truly important. Of course, that doesn't mean that we ditch the use of benchmarks and metrics in general, just that they so rarely tell the full picture, or even half of it at times.
If you've never read the book "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert M Persig, I would highly recommend it and you might even find that it explains some of my above thoughts a little better than I can
No comments:
Post a Comment