User Interfaces: When and Who should be designing them and why?

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     As is true of all of us, I get new apps. I sign up for new services via websites. Some interfaces work well. Others make me want to tear out my hair (and I don’t have that much remaining). What is the difference?

     First, I may — eventually — want to fine-tune my interactions with the app/site. I may — eventually — want to go through every exciting and fantastic feature that is available. I do NOT want to have to go through five menus and three submenus to set my address.

     Consider it like a layered cake. On that bottom layer, we have all of the basics. Open a file, save a file, add basic profile information, add a financial source. All of this should be so easy that someone who has never used the interface can do it without having to dig into the interface. Perhaps the app/site can keep track (I know — cookies — love them/hate them) of what is your status. First time user? Experienced user? It may provide a very friendly question/answer interface to let you get started. There may also be video and/or text tutorials to get you past that first level — but NOT for that first level. If you don’t present an easy enough interface to a first-time user for them to get started, go back to GO, do NOT collect $200.

     So, what are those basics? If you wrote the app/website, you don’t really know. For you, everything is obvious and beautiful and why doesn’t everyone just immediately love it for what it is? Ask your grandfather to sit down with the app. Answer questions as they go — but record every question. Observe every “false” movement — why did they do that? Isn’t it obvious that they should have done this other thing — well, no, it apparently isn’t obvious. Obvious for you is not obvious for everyone.

     Back in older days (not quite back to the “once upon a time” days), programs (not even apps/applications at that point) would have a command line interface. (Of course, underlying operating systems usually still do — but most users will never see it.) The goal was to make it easier for more people. Visual user interfaces, and (little “w”) windows were created — but there were usually “escape modes” for experienced users to access the basic commands and their options. These are still often used during scripting for batch (large sets of users for which you want the same set of actions done) situations.

     My Master’s thesis (this WAS in “once upon a time” regions) was for a “Human-oriented User SHell interface (or “HUSH”). It was command line based but you could enter a “?” at any time and it would give help as to what was possible, and what options did, at any point in the command. (Never actually implemented due to bureaucratic reasons.) Did you have to use the help? No. It gave you help only when you wanted it. That made it better for experienced users and the help was good for first, or early, users.

     As is true for many situations, we have a spectrum of users — from first-time users to highly experienced. Each level has different needs and expectations. The basic premise holds, however. Very inexperienced users should NOT need help to do basic things. Experienced, highly advanced, users should not be slowed down in their use with anything that they might know already.

     The interface for highly experience users can be done by the developers. The interface for first-time users should NEVER be designed by the developers.

A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place

 

     "A place for everything and everything in its place." An old homily that gives advice as to how to organize within one's life. But, do we often have a place for everything? And IS everything in its place?

     Let's suppose that we are wonderfully organized and we have a place for everything and everything is in its place. what are the benefits of that? Presumably, it will be easy and efficient to find things that we want to retrieve. It will also be easy to know just where something should be put after we have finished using it. Note that this is the ideal of this situation. Having a place for everything is of no use if people do not put things into those places. Around my household, we end up repurchasing things quite (much too) often because things are NOT put back into the place where they are expected to be found.

     And, on the other hand, if there IS a place for everything and the item is not where it should be -- then that organization is useless. "A place for everything and everything in its place" gives a structure that can help in organization, retrieval, and storage -- but the structure has to be actively used and maintained to be of use. Every six months, or so, I organize our pantry. I group canned vegetables together, canned fruits together, sauces, surplus "backup" supplies, and other stuff grouped together. I also examine "use by" dates and discard those items (usually not zero) that have expired and put older items towards the front to be used first. Obviously, we do not all make use of the structure consistently -- otherwise I would not be re-organizing every six months.

     So, the structure is helpful -- but only if consistently used. But what if we are unable to create this structure? "A place for everything." Having extra space should not hurt as long as it is not used in such a way that finding things becomes more difficult. But most of us do not have enough space for everything. There cannot be "a place for everything". The best we can do is "a pile for groups of related things" from which we must sort when we try to retrieve. This situation is improved by one of two methods: obtain more space or reduce the amount of stuff we have. In the US, obtaining more space ("upsizing") is the direction most often approached. Note that this sometimes means off-site storage facilities.

     Reducing stuff -- following a simplification, or minimalist, route -- is becoming more popular but fights against the general culture. There are people who are able to help with this. Since the stuff is not theirs, there is no emotional attachment and elimination of excess, unused, things is much easier. But the final decision as to what is to stay or go is still yours and you have to be willing to make such decisions.

     Once the goal of having the proper amount of space has been achieved, the next step is organization so that things can be placed, and retrieved, easily and quickly. Once again, there are people who are fantastic at organizing and can help you with this task.

     With a goal of downsizing into a smaller, single-level, retirement domicile in the near future, we are working to reduce, reduce, reduce. It is not easy. Over the course of a lifetime, memories become attached to things. Elimination of things is kind-of-easy. elimination of memories (or triggers of memories) is much more difficult.

Less is more: The Case for Minimalism

     When we talk about "less" and "more", it has to be applied to something. In the case of minimalism, it can be said to apply to complexity, accumulation, and "overhead" -- and, likely, many other things. There may be a better word than overhead -- happy to hear suggestions. Overhead is that extra amount (of time, distance, effort) that is required beyond what is needed for what you really want to accomplish.
     It is rare that a week goes by without some (hopefully small) "glitch" occurring to make me aware how complicated "normal" things in my life really are -- which usually claims an hour or two of my schedule. This past week, it was a matter of rain causing a short in the exterior line connections for our Internet connection -- it triggered the "Ground Fault Interrupter" (GFI) breaker of the outlet to which the optical interface device was plugged. Luckily, repetition of specific problems make them quicker to figure out. (The first time it occurred, it took about six hours including an hour and a half on the phone with my Internet provider.)
     Just tackling the INSIDE configuration of our Internet connection, our house has routers (WiFi and Ethernet -- same devices, different connection methods), gateway, and optical network interface. Plus, there are all of the cables, power and signal, connecting everything. During that first (six hour) session of determining the cause of our network failure, we analyzed each segment of this configuration, one at a time. At the end of the period with the Internet service provider, we had eliminated everything that could be checked remotely -- so a service call was set up. And, so it would have remained if I hadn't been sure that there was a contradiction between their tests and my understanding of the network. Their test of the optical network interface was from the network side. But, it turned out that the GFI had popped that time also. From the network side it "worked" fine -- but, without proper power, it did not actually function.
     So, do I want to eliminate my Internet connection to simplify my life? No, I don't. However, I remain fully aware of how much simpler it is to take a book from a shelf and read it as opposed to all that can go wrong with streaming a video.
     In the region of accumulation, we recently moved to another place which has 40% less square footage than the previous place. We spent four months just trying to reduce stuff to be able to fit (concentrating on the larger furniture items). We STILL have a garage full at the new place which, especially with my wife's efforts, are being slowly sorted through. Our next place (once our younger sons have moved out) will probably be 40 to 50% less in size than this place (giving a net reduction of around 2/3 over a space of five or six years). We are trying to follow "the houseboat rule". This came from a friend who had a houseboat on Lake Union near Seattle. If you bring something onto the houseboat then something has to leave the houseboat -- otherwise you would eventually find yourself sinking into the lake. The strange thing is that the more things we get rid of the easier it is to do. (Not easy -- just easier.) It is a matter of reaching the point of no longer considering whether an item is useful or not -- they often are -- but, rather, a matter of whether we want to haul it around, find space for it, and have our children have to deal with it after our passage.
     I worked remotely, from my home, for over twenty years. It works really great for someone who is self-organized AND has a tightly focused goal or assignment. I was helping to create a large portfolio of software for my company. I worked hard and, sometimes, long. Working remotely was great for the goal. But, when we had created our portfolio, and did not know quite what was best for us to do next, working remotely was not as effective. Yet, at present, the majority of jobs in my work arena include a 3-hour round-trip commute (in less-than-pleasant traffic). Three hours of commuting for nine hours of work -- or a 25% overhead (3 hours of the 12 total). Many people do it and, perhaps, I will have to do it also at some point. But do I want that? Not particularly.
     Thoreau once talked about how there are equivalencies -- how much time must you work to be able to afford a ticket on a train to somewhere versus how much time needed to walk there. Of course, the actual economics depend on the time in history and the economic conditions of the specific area. We trade off the convenience (when it all works) of electronic media versus the simplicity (but bulk) of physical media. We accumulate things but, at some point, we can no longer "take it with us" -- so, why accumulate? We spend hours getting to and from a job. Should we move? What is the effect of moving?
     Minimalism is not "the" answer for everyone -- but we should all be conscious of our choices and the real cost of our choices.