usability fail.

My name is Leanna Gingras and I'm a graduate student at the University of Michigan's School of Information. My main vice is angry muttering. Instead of angrily muttering to myself whenever I encounter an astonishingly ineptly-designed object, I will mutter about it here and you can read it and we can angrily mutter together.

I'll also be posting about stuff I do, links I think are nifty, and places I go.
Dec 23
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Photo by placenamehere. Usability is about, among other things, figuring out what kind of rules of thumb that users employ when they’re faced with a new object, and making sure your design conforms well to those heuristics. Usability is about figuring out what mental maps the users have, and employing them to make sure your design is easy to use and makes sense to the users. Whatever goofy monikers gas stations might have slapped onto gas grades (“premium” “super performance plus premium” “schwartz in a can”), everyone knows that gas station price signs essentially convey the price of fuels in a particular octane order. The mental map that we have is based on our knowledge that the big numbers on the sign always mean something like low, medium, and high, and the big numbers on the sign are all that we can read when they’re whizzing by at 45mph. But, secure in our knowledge, the world was predictable and sane. Companies were good, evil was still relegated to the dark corners of the world, and the Eastern Bunny still pooped out bits of chocolate for children every spring. But now…take a close look at that gas sign in the picture above.  Unleaded, plus, premium, right? Wrong! It actually says “regular cash” and “regular credit”. Sometime about six months ago, after taking a cursory glance at the big numbers on the gas sign to check that the price was something other than my first-born child, I pulled into a gas station in a huge hurry, ran my card through, plunked the nozzle in my tank, and tapped my foot while it filled up. Only at that point did I notice that the price of unleaded was about ten cents higher than it should’ve been on the sign. I double-checked the sign and saw that the meaning of the big numbers had CHANGED and nobody had bothered to tell me in any way that I could notice! Instead of signifying something like low, medium, high, if I squinted really hard, I could make out that the tiny letters read CASH, CREDIT and DIESEL. Since I never have cash, I had been suckered into paying the credit price, which was actually the middle big number on the sign. Now, being ripped off by the gas companies is not a novel feeling at all, but being ripped off by way of using my own mental map of the world against me just really pisses me off. For this one, “usability fail” doesn’t quite cover it. The hallowed methods of usability have been twisted and perverted to rip off users. Or something. Nowadays, I have a mental tally of all the gas stations in Ann Arbor that I’ve spotted using these signs, and I’ve been boycotting them. Well, I only fill my tank like twice a month so they probably don’t notice, but I’m boycotting them all the same. There’s something else going on here, though, something very interesting. Although I meant to snap a picture of a gas station sign myself instead of grabbing one off Flickr, I’m now in Lansing for break and it turns out that the gas stations in Lansing don’t try to pull this crap. Actually, I haven’t seen these signs outside of Ann Arbor at all. I’ve had a hard time figuring out what’s going on there because it seems all wrong. By traditional reasoning, Lansing should be full of the bamboozling gas signs. Ann Arbor is full of highly educated liberals who get shrill when they’re bamboozled, and Lansing is full of angry mutterers who take what they’re given while muttering angrily. GM, anyone? Lansing is more economically disadvantaged, and companies have a history of bamboozling poor people because they know they can more easily get away with it. There are only three things that kind of make sense to me, and only kind of: This marketing trend is spreading manually and has not reached Lansing yet. Ann Arbor is a more pedestrian-friendly town and thus perhaps consumes less gas. Ann Arbor is richer and perhaps gas companies think locals won’t notice an extra ten cents here and ten cents there. Anyway, for whatever it’s worth, that Flickr picture seems to have been taken in New Jersey. Insert punchline here?

Photo by placenamehere.

Usability is about, among other things, figuring out what kind of rules of thumb that users employ when they’re faced with a new object, and making sure your design conforms well to those heuristics. Usability is about figuring out what mental maps the users have, and employing them to make sure your design is easy to use and makes sense to the users.

Whatever goofy monikers gas stations might have slapped onto gas grades (“premium” “super performance plus premium” “schwartz in a can”), everyone knows that gas station price signs essentially convey the price of fuels in a particular octane order. The mental map that we have is based on our knowledge that the big numbers on the sign always mean something like low, medium, and high, and the big numbers on the sign are all that we can read when they’re whizzing by at 45mph. But, secure in our knowledge, the world was predictable and sane. Companies were good, evil was still relegated to the dark corners of the world, and the Eastern Bunny still pooped out bits of chocolate for children every spring. But now…take a close look at that gas sign in the picture above.  Unleaded, plus, premium, right? Wrong! It actually says “regular cash” and “regular credit”.

Sometime about six months ago, after taking a cursory glance at the big numbers on the gas sign to check that the price was something other than my first-born child, I pulled into a gas station in a huge hurry, ran my card through, plunked the nozzle in my tank, and tapped my foot while it filled up. Only at that point did I notice that the price of unleaded was about ten cents higher than it should’ve been on the sign. I double-checked the sign and saw that the meaning of the big numbers had CHANGED and nobody had bothered to tell me in any way that I could notice! Instead of signifying something like low, medium, high, if I squinted really hard, I could make out that the tiny letters read CASH, CREDIT and DIESEL. Since I never have cash, I had been suckered into paying the credit price, which was actually the middle big number on the sign.

Now, being ripped off by the gas companies is not a novel feeling at all, but being ripped off by way of using my own mental map of the world against me just really pisses me off. For this one, “usability fail” doesn’t quite cover it. The hallowed methods of usability have been twisted and perverted to rip off users. Or something. Nowadays, I have a mental tally of all the gas stations in Ann Arbor that I’ve spotted using these signs, and I’ve been boycotting them. Well, I only fill my tank like twice a month so they probably don’t notice, but I’m boycotting them all the same.

There’s something else going on here, though, something very interesting. Although I meant to snap a picture of a gas station sign myself instead of grabbing one off Flickr, I’m now in Lansing for break and it turns out that the gas stations in Lansing don’t try to pull this crap. Actually, I haven’t seen these signs outside of Ann Arbor at all. I’ve had a hard time figuring out what’s going on there because it seems all wrong. By traditional reasoning, Lansing should be full of the bamboozling gas signs.

  • Ann Arbor is full of highly educated liberals who get shrill when they’re bamboozled, and Lansing is full of angry mutterers who take what they’re given while muttering angrily. GM, anyone?
  • Lansing is more economically disadvantaged, and companies have a history of bamboozling poor people because they know they can more easily get away with it.

There are only three things that kind of make sense to me, and only kind of:

  • This marketing trend is spreading manually and has not reached Lansing yet.
  • Ann Arbor is a more pedestrian-friendly town and thus perhaps consumes less gas.
  • Ann Arbor is richer and perhaps gas companies think locals won’t notice an extra ten cents here and ten cents there.

Anyway, for whatever it’s worth, that Flickr picture seems to have been taken in New Jersey. Insert punchline here?

Dec 18
Permalink
Let’s kick this off with something that really irritates me: this teapot designed by people who do not drink tea, and who did not bother to consult anybody who drinks tea. I know tea isn’t the preferred beverage in the United States, but it’s rather mind-boggling that nobody bothered to call their auntie or their friend Niles to ask them to have a spot of tea with them. We’re talking about half an hour of “user research” over a nice, steaming beverage. This isn’t hard, people. The first obvious sign is that brown runny lump on top. That used to be the handle for the lid. If the designers drank tea, they would know that nothing sucks more than being unable to pick up the lid because the handle is too goddamn hot. Not only should the handle be designed in such a way to ensure that it doesn’t actually heat up enough to burn one’s hand, it should also never, at any point, melt. Ever. There is no excuse for melting short of a thermonuclear blast. At this point one might point out that whoever is brewing the tea probably should’ve noticed that the teapot was melting, but ahh, the next sign that this teapot was designed by people who do not drink tea is that there is no whistle. Yep. This teapot does not whistle. Nor does it signal in any way whatsoever that the tea is done. You effectively have to stand around the teapot and stare at it and yes, watch it until it boils! Another fail on the part of these teapot designers is that the teapot is painted metal. Those little shavings you see underneath the teapot are chips of paint that come off when heat is applied. Alas, since it is a teapot and thus only functions when heat is applied, the shavings are a pretty good indication of how many pots I’ve had to make to get myself moving that morning. Worse than the shavings shedding all over my stove (which I will admit looks pretty sad itself, but hey, when I finish my MSI I’ll have lots of money and buy a nice stove, right?) are the shavings that shed inside the teapot. For the teapot is painted on the inside too. For no apparent reason other than to give me lead poisoning, I guess. So for me, every new pot of tea begins with a thorough rinsing, and every cup of tea begins with a furrowed-brow inspection for foreign objects. Classy!

Let’s kick this off with something that really irritates me: this teapot designed by people who do not drink tea, and who did not bother to consult anybody who drinks tea. I know tea isn’t the preferred beverage in the United States, but it’s rather mind-boggling that nobody bothered to call their auntie or their friend Niles to ask them to have a spot of tea with them. We’re talking about half an hour of “user research” over a nice, steaming beverage. This isn’t hard, people.

The first obvious sign is that brown runny lump on top. That used to be the handle for the lid. If the designers drank tea, they would know that nothing sucks more than being unable to pick up the lid because the handle is too goddamn hot. Not only should the handle be designed in such a way to ensure that it doesn’t actually heat up enough to burn one’s hand, it should also never, at any point, melt. Ever. There is no excuse for melting short of a thermonuclear blast.

At this point one might point out that whoever is brewing the tea probably should’ve noticed that the teapot was melting, but ahh, the next sign that this teapot was designed by people who do not drink tea is that there is no whistle. Yep. This teapot does not whistle. Nor does it signal in any way whatsoever that the tea is done. You effectively have to stand around the teapot and stare at it and yes, watch it until it boils!

Another fail on the part of these teapot designers is that the teapot is painted metal. Those little shavings you see underneath the teapot are chips of paint that come off when heat is applied. Alas, since it is a teapot and thus only functions when heat is applied, the shavings are a pretty good indication of how many pots I’ve had to make to get myself moving that morning.

Worse than the shavings shedding all over my stove (which I will admit looks pretty sad itself, but hey, when I finish my MSI I’ll have lots of money and buy a nice stove, right?) are the shavings that shed inside the teapot. For the teapot is painted on the inside too. For no apparent reason other than to give me lead poisoning, I guess. So for me, every new pot of tea begins with a thorough rinsing, and every cup of tea begins with a furrowed-brow inspection for foreign objects. Classy!