Category Archives: work

May 21 2025
work

Striving for Imperfection: Why Flaws Make Things Feel Real

Perfection has become a tell. Too smooth, too balanced, too… AI. In a world of generative everything, we’ve reached a strange inflection point: human-centred design now demands imperfection, not as a flaw, but as a feature.

Because friction is fidelity. And too much polish starts to smell synthetic.

When Random Doesn’t Feel Random

Apple’s original shuffle algorithm was mathematically pure, each track had an equal chance of playing. But users complained. It didn’t feel random. Why? Because true randomness includes clumps, repetitions, patterns that seem suspect. A couple of U2 tracks in a row and suddenly the algorithm was “broken.”

So Apple redesigned it to be less random, so that it would seem more random. Illusion of imperfection, engineered.

It’s the same with LLMs. Outputs that are too balanced, too polished, ring false to human ears. We need to start prompt-engineering flaws into our copy, because believability demands mess.

Breath Marks and Broken Grammar

I have a playlist I use to test audio (car stereos, headphones, my hi-fi separates). Not for punch or clarity. For something else. For breath, for scratches, for the hiss of it all. Those tiny artefacts left in because they mattered. Because someone chose to keep them.

Same applies to writing. I’ve airbrushed things too, of course I have. Smoothed over copy that should have stung a little. A good sub-editor knows when to let a clause run ragged. When tidiness would kill the tone. And when grammar should yield to cadence. On LinkedIn, where polish often passes for credibility, that kind of mess is rare, although the smell of all that polish is punget.

The Pratfall Effect, Real Beauty

The Pratfall Effect teaches us that we trust people (and brands) more when they’re good and a little flawed. A genius who spills coffee. A leader who admits doubt. We warm to it.

Brands have learned this too. Dove’s Real Beauty Playbook (developed by Unilever) resonates because it shows unedited reality: pimples, pores, and all. At a recent session in London, Bianca Mack (WongDoody) reminded us of the campaign’s emotional resonance and shared new research on how people respond to AI-generated images and the labelling thereof.

But who decides when an image is ‘too perfect’? That wasn’t clear.

One crucial gap: that research didn’t appear to distinguish between image types. As I explored in my previous piece, “The Complexity and Nuance in Human-Centred Design: Beyond the ‘Average’ User” (Nov 2023), we don’t experience products or content generically, we interpret them through the lens of context, emotional expectations, and domain norms. We tolerate gloss on cars and watches. But we demand scars and breath in human faces.

Against the Plinth: Notes from JLR

When I led UX at AccentureSong for Jaguar Land Rover, we had this tension constantly. The art directors wanted visual purity: architecture that gleamed, cars posed like sculpture, not vehicles. But my team pushed back. We knew that real customers didn’t experience their Range Rover on a plinth. They experienced it on wet roads, in dim light, with children kicking the back seat. Our interfaces and imagery needed to feel lived in, not gallery-lit.

There was always a pull between the pristine and the plausible. Between the brand fantasy and the user reality. The best work came when we embraced the rough edge.

This picks up the argument I made in “The Complexity and Nuance in Human-Centred Design”, that designing for an average user strips out useful extremes. Here, it’s visual: perfection may be aesthetic, but it’s not trustworthy.

Prompt Engineering with Bruises

If you’re using LLMs for writing, design, or strategy, you’ll notice: the cleaner it reads, the less it lands. That might sound odd, but the flaws make it human.

Try this instead:

  • Prompt for contradiction: “Add a small, unresolved tension.”
  • Prompt for failure: “Include a misstep or wrong decision.”
  • Prompt for tone: “Make this sound slightly defensive.”

These aren’t weaknesses. They’re realism. They’re humanity.

You don’t say it’s real, you show it.

Which brings us back to humans. We now have a new role: not just creators, but curators of believability. If you let a model spit out 800 words of polished perfection and ship it unchecked, don’t be surprised if your readers scroll past. They know what machine-made sounds like.

In Bianca’s research, people wanted to know when something was AI-generated, but perhaps more importantly, we want to know someone’s checked it. Because a watermark is more than a label. It’s a sign of judgement.

Just as we caveat car ads, ‘closed course’, ‘professional driver’, we’re now being asked to signal artifice across digital domains. Not to apologise for it, but to own it.

It’s not easy. As an industry we’re conditioned to edit out blemishes, not protect them. Maybe we’ve all just got too good at pretending we know what authenticity looks like.

Closing

Perfection doesn’t reassure. It can repel. If you want something to feel real, it needs to breathe. To blink. To bruise. In a world of frictionless content, the rough edge is where trust begins.

This isn’t a stylistic preference. It’s a principle.

AI was used to sub-edit this piece according to my personal tone of voice guidelines, it was also used to generate the cover image, WordPress excerpt, tagging recommendations and tighten the LinkedIn tease for it.

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Apr 10 2025
work

Designing in the Grey Zone: UX Strategy Between User Needs and Compliance Risk

“We want this to feel seamless … but we also need explicit consent, mandatory disclosures, manual checks, and legal disclaimers.”

Every seasoned designer recognises this paradox. Designing in the grey zone where intuitive user intent meets institutional paranoia; this is the real art of UX. It’s here, away from idealised personas and tidy journey maps, that experienced designers earn their keep.

There’s an invisible brief beneath every customer-focused requirement: a shadow brief shaped by compliance, legal, and operational anxieties. Good designers learn not just to sense this, but to actively probe it. Ignore it, and your project spirals into endless revisions, stakeholder reviews where the work is designed by committee, subtlety is lost; engage it early, and you gain clarity – and allies.

Take pattern fatigue. Users tire of repetitive consent modals, disclaimers, and (in most but not all cases) friction-heavy journeys. Businesses, meanwhile, cling anxiously to these same patterns as safeguards against imagined or real regulatory backlash. But real trust isn’t built through relentless checkbox rituals. It’s earned through clear, respectful experiences that make the necessary feel intentional, not a cover-your-arse afterthought.

Collaboration here isn’t confined to design reviews or user testing, it happens in office kitchen conversations, Teams/Slack channels, and impromptu chats. You learn to engage risk, legal, product, and ops stakeholders early and often, folding their concerns into the design narrative without allowing the process to be swallowed whole.

I don’t just write about this stuff. I’ve done it.

In regulated finance journeys, instead of burying disclosures or making them intrusive, my team always sought to reframe the moment as part of proactive user education, clear, transparent language turned obligatory checkboxes into moments of genuine value.

For an automotive e-commerce flow, this meant legal mandated conspicuously disruptive copy and impenetrable ‘maths stacks’. But by carefully segmenting the messaging and testing contextual placement, the caveats turned into trust-enhancing affirmations rather than flow-breaking interruptions, and those maths stacks became useful summaries of the (complex) product the customer was buying.

Other projects at Aviva and Standard Life involved compliance from day one, not as gatekeepers but co-designers. The result, I hoped users would see, was surprisingly intuitive UX – and a more collaborative approach next time around. Aligning regulatory demands early creates space for creativity rather than stifling it.

Early in my career, it’s fair to say I viewed legal and compliance as blockers (and they saw digital as suspiciously nebulous, much harder to sign off than print). Now, I see them simply as constraints: like network latency, budget, or screen size. And like those, they can be designed-for intelligently and creatively.

Art moves in to Tate St. Ives at street level and must be able to move into the galleries at different levels. (c) Jamie Fobert Architects

I always come back to something Jamie Fobert said about designing Tate St. Ives. Parts of the building were shaped around a core problem: how to get large-scale artworks in, move them through the space, and install them cleanly. Instead of fighting the constraint, they made it central to the solution. Form followed function, but with elegance. That, to me, is how I work with compliance now. Not a hurdle. Just part of the brief.

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Mar 17 2025
work

From Envelopes to Algorithms: Navigating Personal Finance in the Subscription Era

Back in 2009, I reflected on our innate habit of mentally earmarking money, noting:​

“If it turned out that I wanted a laptop costing £1,200 and I had £700 in savings and £600 in my current account, I could technically afford that laptop, but I wouldn’t buy it because, in my head, I only had £700 in the allocated savings account.”​

This behaviour mirrors the traditional ‘envelope system,’ where individuals physically divided cash into envelopes for specific expenses, ensuring disciplined spending.​

Fast forward to 2025, and while cash has largely become a relic, our desire to compartmentalise finances persists. Digital banking has adapted, offering virtual equivalents to these envelopes. For instance, Monzo introduced “Pots,” allowing users to allocate funds for specific goals, while Starling Bank offers “Spaces” for similar purposes. Revolut provides “Vaults” and “Pockets,” enabling users to categorise and manage their money effectively.​

However, alongside these advancements, we’ve witnessed an explosion of subscription-based services:​

  • Streaming Services: Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, Disney+, and perhaps that niche platform you trialled and forgot to cancel (hello, History Hit).​
  • Software Subscriptions: Adobe Creative Cloud, Microsoft 365, and various productivity tools.​
  • Lifestyle Boxes: Weekly deliveries of meal kits, razors, supplements, or even socks, because who doesn’t appreciate fresh socks monthly?​

These recurring charges, often modest individually, can cumulatively strain our finances, especially when forgotten or underutilised. The convenience of “set it and forget it” often leads to the latter.​

While digital banks have empowered users to segment their funds, managing the myriad of subscriptions remains challenging. Most banking apps display transactions chronologically, placing the onus on users to identify recurring payments. Some apps offer features to visualise upcoming direct debits, but proactive management tools remain limited.​

To enhance user experience in this subscription-saturated era, banks could implement:​

  1. Subscription Dashboards: A dedicated interface highlighting all active subscriptions, their monthly costs, and renewal dates, offering a clear view of recurring expenses.​
  2. Smart Notifications: Alerts for impending renewals or price hikes, such as, “Heads up! Your monthly fee for ‘Obscure Streaming Service’ is increasing from £5 to £7 next week.”
  3. Simplified Cancellation: One-click options to terminate unwanted subscriptions directly from the banking app, streamlining the often cumbersome cancellation processes.​
  4. AI-Powered Analysis: Tools that analyse usage patterns and suggest downgrades or cancellations, e.g., “We’ve noticed you haven’t logged into ‘Premium Meditation App’ in three months. Consider cancelling to save £10 /month?”

However, a significant challenge lies in the fragmented nature of these subscriptions. Some are direct debits, others are continuous payment authorities linked to cards, and many are managed through platforms like PayPal or the Apple App Store. This dispersion complicates holistic management.​

Enter Variable Recurring Payments (VRPs), a feature of open banking that offers more control and transparency than existing payment alternatives. VRPs allow customers to set parameters for recurring payments, such as maximum amount and frequency, providing a more seamless and secure way to manage subscriptions. ​

While digital envelopes have evolved, so have our spending habits. Banks that acknowledge and adapt to the subscription economy’s nuances can empower users, ensuring our hard-earned money doesn’t silently seep away. Achieving this requires a combination of excellent user experience design and tight integration of open banking standards, allowing a comprehensive view of all our financial commitments. Until then, vigilance across multiple platforms remains essential to maintain financial well-being.​

AI disclosure: AI supported background research, analysis of 2009 blog post, minor thematic development, and refining of narrative flow. Image generated using Dall-E.

All final article content, style, and opinions remain solely the author’s own.

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Mar 13 2025
work

The Great Touchscreen Con Job

Some mistakes happen in a moment. A quick lapse of judgment, an ill-advised decision at 3 a.m., an email sent to Reply All. Others take years, unfolding in slow motion as warning signs are ignored, reasonable objections are silenced, and people in boardrooms nod sagely at their own catastrophic short-sightedness. The mass adoption of touchscreen-only controls in cars falls into the latter category.

Volkswagen has now admitted the error of its ways, vowing that physical buttons are back for good. “We will never, ever make this mistake again,” said their Chief of Design, as if they’d been tricked into it by some mysterious force, rather than actively championing the change.

It raises a bigger question. How did it happen in the first place? How did entire teams of HMI experts, human factors specialists, and UX researchers – people whose literal job is to stop this kind of nonsense – allow it to happen? Were they asleep at the wheel, or were they simply drowned out by design teams infatuated with minimalism and finance teams rubbing their hands at the thought of fewer moving parts?

The answer, of course, is all of the above.

The cult of minimalism, confusing more screens with innovation

At some point in the last decade, car designers decided that buttons were offensive. They cluttered up dashboards. They broke the sainted, uninterrupted lines of modern interior design. Worse, they weren’t futuristic. The ideal was a sleek, unbroken surface, like an iPhone, only larger and more expensive to replace if it b0rked.

This obsession with minimalism went unchecked because it looked fantastic in concept renders. Screens glowing with digital promise, smooth and uninterrupted by the ugliness of function. Never mind that the only reason buttons existed in the first place was that they worked. Never mind that people could reach for a dial without taking their eyes off the road, adjusting the temperature by feel alone, a level of usability that no amount of software updates could replicate.

Rob Tannen, a human-centred design specialist, summed it up recently on LinkedIn: “Fundamentally, the problem with touch-based interfaces is that they aren’t touch-based at all, because they need us to look when using them.” In a moving vehicle, that isn’t just bad design, it’s dangerous.

The significant point here though is that this was not a revelation. UX researchers have known it for years. The car industry had, in fact, already worked this out in the 1980s, which is why it spent decades refining tactile, mechanical controls that allowed drivers to focus on the road and remain at arm’s length. But in their rush to be seen as technologically advanced, OEMs decided to throw that institutional knowledge in the bin.

The accountant’s dream, confusing cost-cutting with innovation

Touchscreens are cheap. They replace dozens of mechanical components with a single panel of glass, a bit of wiring, and some off-the-shelf software. For car manufacturers looking to shave costs wherever possible, it was an irresistible proposition. Instead of painstakingly engineered switches, they could throw everything onto a digital interface and call it an upgrade.

Charles Mauro, a veteran in human factors (HF), called this for what it was: “We only have touch screens in vehicles because such interfaces provide a marketing and sales boost to new cars by lending the impression of ‘high-tech’ and modern feature sets. From HF’s perspective, they remain highly impoverished interfaces.”

In other words, it wasn’t about what was best for the driver. It was about what looked best in a press release.

But removing physical controls isn’t just an inconvenience, it’s actively worse. Simple tasks that once took a split-second, a quick flick of a switch, a half-turn of a dial, became a (painstaking) exercise in menu navigation. Climate control settings buried in submenus. Hazard lights requiring two taps and a prayer. Windscreen wipers accessed through a system designed by someone who apparently lives in the desert (i.e. Tesla).

The real irony? Some of the most expensive, high-end cars, the ones that supposedly define luxury, ended up with the worst interfaces. A £120,000 SUV with a laggy touchscreen that freezes in winter. A luxury saloon where temperature adjustments require you to gesture-swipe on visuals of air vents. The tech-driven future, they said.

The Silicon Valley delusion

Blame Tesla. When the upstart EV brand introduced its monolithic, screen-heavy interior, traditional carmakers panicked. If Tesla was doing it, surely that was the future?

OEMs, desperate not to look outdated, decided they had to copy the software-defined model. Everything should be digital, infinitely updatable, infinitely customisable. Who needs buttons when you can have a dynamically shifting interface?

This was a critical misunderstanding of why Tesla got away with it. Tesla’s approach worked (to an extent) because the entire car was designed around it. But for traditional manufacturers, retrofitting touchscreen interfaces onto vehicles that had been developed with physical controls made for a UX disaster.

The dream was that everything would be intuitive. The reality was that even basic tasks became a chore. Ford, in an attempt to embrace this brave new world, introduced ever larger screens into its cars. The result, as The Verge put it, was predictable: “Surveys have shown growing customer dissatisfaction with in-car tech, especially touchscreen software. People are overwhelmed, and Ford’s response seems to be to add more screens, which is not a guarantee for success.”

The data problem

There’s a particularly dangerous kind of UX research that looks at how often people use controls and decides that if something isn’t used frequently, it should be buried.

This is how Tesla ended up hiding the wiper controls inside a screen menu. Their reasoning? “People don’t use them often.” A brilliant insight in California, somewhat less so if you live somewhere with rain.

This logic led to cars where drivers had to dig through menus for basic functions. The entire point of a car interface is that when you do need something, it should be immediately accessible and context really, really matters. Nobody wants to enter a submenu for demisters when their windscreen is fogging up at 70mph. Auto Express’s report is well worth a read here. 

The Return of Sanity

Volkswagen’s public climbdown marks a turning point. Hyundai has followed suit. The backlash has been strong enough that manufacturers are now scrambling to put buttons back in their cars, pretending that they always intended to.

But it wasn’t customer complaints that forced the change. It wasn’t common sense prevailing. It was regulators.

Euro NCAP has mandated that, from 2026, cars will need physical buttons for key functions to qualify for a five-star safety rating. The industry had spent a decade ignoring drivers, but when the threat of lower safety scores loomed, suddenly they rediscovered their enthusiasm for good UX.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The great touchscreen experiment is over. Car interiors are moving back towards hybrid interfaces, a balance of digital and physical that prioritises usability over showroom aesthetics. Manufacturers are rethinking software-defined controls, realising that while over-the-air updates are useful, core functions need permanent, intuitive access.

Most importantly, UX research in automotive needs to be taken seriously again and their voices heard right up the product development and engineering chain. Not just as a box-ticking exercise, but as a genuine guide for what works.

For now, though, it’s a relief to know that the button is making a comeback. It turns out that some of the most futuristic technology in modern cars was there all along.

AI disclosure: Some article research was supported by AI, themes consolidated, article excerpt was AI generated. Article copy entirely author’s own.

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Feb 12 2025
work

Amazon’s UX: Why Customers Ignore the Chaos

Amazon’s interface is a mess. Everyone knows it, doesn’t matter if you’re in the industry or you just use it to buy lightbulbs, the odd book and some fancy Tupperware. It’s the digital equivalent of a hoarder’s house, clutter everywhere. A friend of mine once memorably described looking for something as like “rummaging through a warehouse with a torch”, but [she does it because] “I know the bloody thing I want is in there somewhere”. On any given part of the site there’s inexplicable stacks of unrelated items, and a sense that at any moment, something might fall on you. My particular hate are sponsored listings, intruding like pushy sales reps with their irrelevant nonsense while you’re on the way to buy the actual thing you searched for (although sometimes the actual thing turns out to be a not-quite-there copy from some random far-east factory). Genuine customer reviews also get buried under an avalanche of SEO-stuffed nonsense, and yet, dear reader… here I am, ordering 90% of what I buy from Amazon. And you do too.

However frustrating the experience, it isn’t bad enough to drive people away. Fast delivery, sheer product choice, and a checkout process so frictionless it should be flagged with Gamble Aware. All of this outweighs the UX sins.

So, Does UX Even Matter?

It is a question worth asking. If a platform’s core proposition is so compelling, with cheap prices, instant gratification and no meaningful alternative, does the user experience really determine success? Or does it just need to be functional enough?

The Amazon Conundrum

Armchair critics love to dissect Amazon’s UX. In the dark corners of the UGC web, Reddit threads are full of users raging against the chaotic interface. Tech journos lament the aggressive Prime pushing, the pay-to-win search results. On paper, it’s a usability horror show. But let’s be clear, Amazon isn’t neglecting UX. It employs entire teams of UX designers, researchers, and engineers who are constantly refining the experience. Not to make it more elegant, but to make it better at selling things. If adding another sponsored listing increases revenue, they’ll do it. In 2022 alone, Amazon made over $31 billion from its advertising business, largely driven by these placements, making it a core part of their revenue model (Vox). If customers still find something to buy despite the friction, then as far as Amazon is concerned, the system is working just fine. The difficulty we have as UXers is understanding and reconciling this. Because we see ‘Sponsored’ listings trump the actual best-result search listing we say “This is wrong, users hate this!” but somewhere deep in Amazon HQ is the data to say, “You know what, they actually don’t, and here’s some more $” (EcommerceFuel and others provide further context on how Amazon’s sponsored listings work and why they persist). The same logic applies to other blunt instruments like relentless pop-ups (deeply irritating but demonstrably effective at nudging hesitant users into making a decision) and those blinking, anxiety-inducing countdown timers all over that Instagram brand’s shop aren’t there by accident either.

When UX Takes a Back Seat

Of course, Amazon is hardly alone. Plenty of other sites with objectively terrible UX remain dominant because their value proposition is simply stronger than the frustration they cause:

  • Booking.com drowns you in pop-ups and ‘Only 1 left at this price!’ warnings. Yet its vast selection and competitive pricing make it impossible to ignore.
  • British Airways’ website looks and feels like it’s been trapped in 2009, but people still book flights because, they will always believe the brand stands for something British and the pilots are the best trained and most decent in the skies.
  • Vinted The latest upstart eCommerce brand is having a runaway success in the UK but this is absolutely down to the simplified sell-send logistics and payment process, and definitely not to the bloody awful filtering and product exploration UX (seven different ways to filter on Ralph Lauren sweaters anyone?).
  • GP surgery websites, National Rail, car park booking systems, there’s a vast ecosystem of poorly designed necessities that survive because users effectively have no choice or poorly rationalise their value/essentialism.

This phenomenon isn’t anecdotal or lost on UX thinkers. As David C. Wyld argues in The Endless Battle Against Bad UX, poor usability is pervasive in major companies, and fixing it isn’t always a top priority. Similarly, The World is Running on Bad UI (Michal Malewicz) notes how many essential services and platforms operate on clunky, outdated interfaces yet remain functionally irreplaceable. Their insights reinforce the central argument here: bad UX doesn’t necessarily mean bad business.

The Captive Audience Factor

The obvious point here is that there is a difference between platforms like Amazon, where the UX is frustrating but functional, and services where users are stuck with whatever’s available. The difference with Government portals, legacy corporate systems, anything remotely tied to infrastructure is that these things aren’t just designed badly; they are fundamentally unmotivated to improve.

It’s not even a matter of UX being ignored (again, plenty of these organisations are populated by skilled and well-meaning design folks), it’s often a mix of limited budgets, outdated tech stacks, bureaucracy (many hands), and the sheer pain and complexity of rebuilding something that’s been patched together over decades.

The same logic applies to countless internal systems in large organisations, where usability takes a backseat to bureaucratic inertia and legacy technology. Everyone grumbles about it, but change is slow, and innovation rarely prioritises the dull but essential parts of work life. Just as no one is investing to replace the office microwave that’s been there since the turn of the millennium, so we continue to suffer through whatever shitey interface we’re given.

The Reluctance to Overhaul

Could Amazon wholesale overhaul its UX if it wanted to? Technically, yes. But would it be worth it? Probably not. The site is a sprawling ecosystem of millions of products, channels and third-party sellers, advertising deals, and logistics chains. Trying to impose a sleek, minimalist interface would mean unpicking the very mechanics that drive sales at an enormous cost.

The same goes for other massive platforms. The bigger and more layered a system becomes, the harder (read more expensive) it is to rebuild from the ground up. This is exactly the scenario I described in The Local Maximum Problem, where businesses become trapped in cycles of micro-optimisation rather than taking bold steps toward meaningful UX improvements. Businesses, especially ones as enormous and entrenched as Amazon, often optimise for small, short-term gains instead of taking the risk of a complete overhaul. They’ve reached a peak where micro-adjustments keep the machine running, even if they don’t solve fundamental UX flaws. Redesigning from scratch is a leap into the unknown, and when the current setup is still printing money, who would take that risk? Maybe they update a search filter. Maybe they tweak the layout slightly. But the underlying experience remains a Frankenstein’s monster of competing priorities.

So, Does UX Matter?

Yes, but not in the way purists would like to believe. Good UX reduces friction, increases trust, and improves efficiency, but it doesn’t always dictate whether people use a platform. When the value proposition is strong enough, users will tolerate a lot.

The idealistic view is that platforms should improve out of respect for their users. But what do you think? Have you ever abandoned a platform because of its terrible UX, or do you find yourself sticking with frustrating experiences because the value proposition is just too strong? Perhaps if people keep clicking, why fix what isn’t broken?

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Sep 13 2024
running, work

Asics Overcomplicates the Runner’s Journey

What’s worse than realising your favourite running shoe has finally given up the ghost? Watching someone else avoid that realisation for 18 months and risk an almost inevitable injury as the shoe disintegrates before our eyes. That someone, in this case, is the mother of my children, and the dearly departed in question is her much-loved, overworked Asics Gel-DS Trainers. Those shoes have put in a hell of a shift. Thousands of kilometres on pavements, parkruns, and everything in between, and she’s been putting off replacing them because Asics, in their infinite wisdom, decided to discontinue them. Ironic, really, considering they now offer what seems like an ever-expanding collection of new models that are aligned to a hundred sub-genres of our sport.

So, armed with determination and a misplaced sense of optimism, I ventured onto the Asics website, thinking, “How hard can it be to find a suitable replacement?” Fool. Absolute fool.

What followed was not so much a straightforward shopping experience as a complex game of hide-and-seek with 100+ models of women’s running shoes. I began narrowing things down: size 5.5—okay, now we’re at 80 options. Neutral pronation—down to 54. Road running—down to 46. Surely, at this point, I’d found a clear path. Instead, I was still faced with an onslaught of variants. The Metaspeed, for example, comes in Edge+ and Sky+ (for stride runners and cadence runners, respectively). Then there’s the Nimbus with a Platinum version, because apparently, even running shoes need luxury trims these days. Add in the Cumulus GTX, Lite-Show, and Noosa Tri, and it quickly started to feel like I’d stumbled into Asics’ fashion line instead of a practical search for neutral road shoes.

The Asics Maze
Even after filtering, I was still staring at something like 46 items. Surely, price could help narrow things down? Not quite. More expensive didn’t necessarily mean better, and so using price as a guide only added to the confusion. Was the extra cost because of space-age tech, or was it just a fancy colourway? No way to tell.

Take the Metaspeed and Superblast—both at the top end of the price range. Are they substantially better than the Gel-Pulse or Magic Speed? It depends on what you’re after. The pro models may have carbon plates and advanced cushioning, but that doesn’t mean they’re always the right choice for someone looking for a lightweight, fast shoe for 10k runs.

In the world of running shoes, price can mean anything—or nothing at all. Sometimes minimal, no-frills shoes can be cheaper simply because they don’t have much in them. Other times, pro-level shoes are expensive for performance reasons. Either way, price is a poor guide to what’s actually suited to you.

The Absurd Complexity of Asics’ Product Strategy
By this point, I was beginning to wonder who Asics had in mind when they designed this labyrinth of choice. Surely, even they must know that offering this many variants doesn’t create more positive choices—it just creates more confusion. I’d managed to reduce my options to 10 models across 16 variants, but there was still no sign of the shoe closest to the Gel-DS Trainer—the GT-2000. Apparently, Asics decided it belongs in the “stability” category, even though it offers nearly the same stability, weight, and cushioning as the Gel-DS. So there it sat, hidden in plain sight.

From a product strategy perspective, this is inefficient at best and counterproductive at worst. Developing, marketing, and maintaining so many similar models must be both expensive and confusing for the customer. Asics are doing a fantastic job of overwhelming the very people they’re trying to help, all while bloating their own production processes.

Fixing the Problem
So, what’s the fix? It’s not rocket science. What they need is a simplified, user-friendly approach that doesn’t leave customers feeling cognitively drained before they’ve even tied their laces.

Let’s start with better filters. The current system is too blunt. Instead of “road” or “neutral,” how about additional more useful filters like “lightweight,” “minimal cushioning,” or “designed for 10k runs”? Filters that speak directly to the practical needs of runners would make the entire process far more intuitive.

And, of course, an AI-powered product recommender would go a long way. Imagine inputting a few key details—distance, surface, weight preferences—and getting a personalised recommendation that actually fits your needs. No more second-guessing whether the Metaspeed Sky+ is right for you or why the GT-2000 doesn’t even show up. Other industries have embraced AI to simplify decision-making, and there’s no reason Asics can’t do the same.

Finally, streamlining the product range. Asics just doesn’t need so many variants of the same shoe. And when you consider they’re competing with the likes of Nike, Adidas, Hoka, and others, all with their multiple model variants chasing the same customer, it makes even less sense. Simplifying their product line would not only help the consumer, but it would also cut their own operational costs. Less clutter, more clarity—it’s a win-win.

In Summary
In the end, trying to replace the Gel-DS Trainer wasn’t just about shoe shopping—it turned into a case study of how not to design a user journey. Asics, with their 100+ models and endless variants, have created a labyrinth that even seasoned runners struggle to navigate. And in doing so, they’ve not only alienated customers but also made their own operations less efficient.

What Asics needs is a return to basics: a simplified product range, a streamlined user experience, and filters and tools that actually reflect the way runners think and shop. Less focus on obscure variants, and more on clear, understandable options that meet practical needs. An AI-powered recommender and better faceted filters are two easy steps to fix this.

Because, let’s face it, nobody should need a flowchart to buy a pair of running shoes. In a world where brands like Asics are meant to help runners perform better, they have forgotten the most basic rule: make the choice simple—and let us make the running bit as hard as we like.

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Jul 26 2024
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Rivian’s Decision to Exclude Apple CarPlay: A Closer Examination

Rivian’s decision to exclude Apple CarPlay from their vehicles is intriguing, especially given the recent advancements unveiled at Apple’s WWDC 2024. As someone deeply invested in human-centred design and automotive innovation, I believe this strategy warrants a closer look.

Apple’s next-generation CarPlay promises unprecedented levels of integration and customisation. The updated system allows for dynamic content, personalised interfaces, and comprehensive vehicle integration, enabling a seamless blend of technology and branding. Manufacturers like Porsche and Aston Martin are already leveraging these capabilities to enhance their user experience, blending their brand identity with advanced, user-friendly technology.

Rivian, however, is not alone in its cautious approach. Mercedes Benz were vocal about it, and General Motors (GM), for example, has decided to phase out both Apple CarPlay and Android Auto in favour of developing its own integrated system using Android Automotive. This move, driven by the desire to maintain greater control over the user experience and address connectivity issues, underscores a broader industry trend towards proprietary solutions.

Rivian’s CEO, RJ Scaringe, has cited potential reliability concerns as a significant factor in their decision. This is a valid issue faced by other automakers, such as GM, who have experienced connectivity problems with CarPlay and off-board Android Auto. Unreliable connections can disrupt critical vehicle functions, which poses safety risks if, for example, the speedometer or other essential displays fail. Critics argue that CarPlay provides a level of familiarity and seamless integration that proprietary systems cannot match. The tight integration of personal data and functions (contacts, smart home, music, map locations) I use hourly on my phone with in-car systems is invaluable. My CarPlay interface knows far more about my life and responds accordingly than my OEM onboard system, which learns only about my journeys and some of my entertainment choices. Connecting all of this once rather than logging into each different third-party service makes far more sense. This aspect of familiarity is often underplayed in discussions about in-car technology.

Apple’s next-generation CarPlay includes features like dynamic content, personalised interfaces, and comprehensive vehicle integration. These capabilities allow automakers to maintain their brand identity while offering users a familiar and highly functional interface. It’s perhaps a sign of the role of the human interface in luxury experiences that the early adopters are the prestige automakers, Porsche, and Aston Martin, who have committed to integrating this advanced system in their vehicles, recognising the value it adds to the user experience.

Critics of Rivian’s decision, like those at The Autopian, argue that the benefits of CarPlay, including user satisfaction and brand loyalty, far outweigh the potential drawbacks. Many drivers are already accustomed to the seamless integration that CarPlay offers, and removing this feature could alienate a significant portion of potential buyers. TechRadar suggests that Rivian’s stated reasons might omit more strategic motivations, such as the desire to keep users within their own ecosystem to control the data and user experience more tightly. This strategic choice might be more about control and data than purely about user experience or technical concerns.

A more critical view highlights concerns about reliability and antitrust issues. For instance, if CarPlay were to take over critical displays and experience a connectivity issue, it could leave drivers without access to essential information like speed or fuel levels. This is a legitimate concern shared by other automakers and regulatory bodies.

Adding to the discussion, many OEMs have struggled with integrating voice assistants like Siri effectively. The experience with in-car voice assistants remains patchy, often falling short of the seamless interaction users expect from their smartphones. This inconsistency can detract from the overall user experience, making a strong case for the integration of well-established systems like CarPlay, which many users find more reliable and intuitive​​​​.

Moreover, the move towards removing physical buttons in favour of touchscreens for controls like HVAC systems has been widely criticised. While touchscreens offer a sleek, modern look, they can be less intuitive and more distracting to use while driving. Physical buttons provide tactile feedback and can be operated without looking away from the road, which enhances safety. The combination of these elements—voice command reliability and the usability of physical controls—are essential considerations in the design of a user-friendly automotive interface​​​​.

As someone who values both innovation and practicality, I see the potential for Rivian to enhance their user experience by integrating Apple’s advanced CarPlay features. It’s about finding a middle ground that respects both innovation and the unique identity of their vehicles. The familiarity and seamless integration that CarPlay offers are invaluable, yet I also appreciate the reliability and specialised knowledge that OEMs bring to in-car systems, especially in challenging environments or when wireless connections are unreliable.

In a rapidly evolving automotive landscape, the ultimate goal remains clear: delivering an intuitive, cohesive, and enjoyable driving experience. By keeping an open mind towards such integrations, Rivian could enhance its position as a leader in automotive innovation.

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Nov 14 2023
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The Complexity and Nuance in Human-Centred Design: Beyond the ‘Average’ User

The Measure of Man; Human Factors in Design, by Henry Dreyfuss

Our practice of human-centred design often grapples with a paradoxical question: “By designing for everyone, are we inadvertently designing for no one?” This post aims to dissect this conundrum, exploring the pitfalls of designing for an ‘average’ user, examining the balance between quantitative and qualitative research in UX design, and deciphering the complexity of individual human behaviours and decision-making processes.

The Pitfalls of Average-Based Design

Designing for an average user is common shortcut (even where an average is a persona), but history provides compelling evidence of its limitations. The U.S. Air Force’s 1950s endeavour to redesign aircraft cockpits for the ‘average’ pilot led to startling revelations. Researcher Gilbert S. Daniels discovered that none of the pilots conformed to the average across ten measured dimensions, highlighting the diversity in human physicality and producing a cockpit which, literally, suited no-one. This example resonates profoundly in digital design, where interfaces and experiences cater to an even broader spectrum of cognitive and emotional diversity. When design targets the average, it often misses the mark for most users, leaving out those who fall outside the narrowly defined average parameters.

The Role of Research in UX Design:

In UX design, data-driven insights are invaluable. Quantitative research, with its large-scale surveys and analytics, offers a bird’s-eye view of user behaviour, identifying common patterns and trends. This approach, however, can overlook the rich, nuanced experiences of individuals. Qualitative research fills this gap by delving into the subjective, personal experiences of users. Interviews, focus groups, and ethnographic studies offer a deeper understanding of the motivations, frustrations, and desires that drive user behaviour. Balancing these two research paradigms is crucial in creating digital experiences that are not only statistically sound but also emotionally resonant and personally relevant. Of course, comissioning proper quantititve research is a much harder challenge with our clients than using online tools to gobble up the quant or semi-qual research that gives us only part of the picture.

Understanding the Fluidity of User Decision-Making:

The variability in human behaviour is strikingly evident in decision-making processes and something we’ve become quite obessed with in my world of automotive consumer behaviour. Consider the journey of purchasing a premium car. Initially, a prospective customer might be driven by impulse and aesthetics, attracted to sleek designs and innovative features. However, as the decision process evolves, practicality takes precedence. The customer mindset evolves, they begin to weigh technical specifications, practicality, economy, customer service reputation, and value for money. This transition from an exploratory to a pragmatic mindset within the same individual illustrates the fluid nature of decision-making. It also contrasts sharply with the variability across different user demographics, where factors like age, cultural background, and technical familiarity significantly influence purchasing behaviour. It’s why my team and I don’t work with demographic personas and instead talk about the motivations and needs of a customer at specific stages in the customer journey.

Embracing Flexibility and Inclusion in Design:

To address this complexity to any degree, designers must pivot towards creating flexible and inclusive interfaces. In practical terms this involves designing for a range of abilities, knowledge and preferences, ensuring that digital products are accessible and usable by as many people as possible, reflective of how they will change. Techniques like progressive and responsive design, which allows content to adapt to different screen sizes and orientations, and adaptive user interfaces, which can adjust to a user’s specific needs and preferences, are essential. Personalisation also plays a key role, offering users the ability to tailor their digital experiences to their unique tastes and requirements and for content providers to reflect the journeys and interactions we know users have already undertaken. This might mean that the product page we show you the first time you visit us is presnted in quite a different way to the one you see in subsequent visits, or if we learn something more about you from other interactions.

TL/DR; Conclusions:

The challenge of designing for a diverse and dynamic user base is daunting yet rewarding. By recognising and embracing the multifaceted nature of human behaviour and decision-making, designers can move beyond the limiting concept of the ‘average’ user. Integrating both quantitative and qualitative research, acknowledging the unpredictability of human behaviour, and adopting principles of flexible and inclusive design, are key to creating digital experiences that resonate on a broader scale. In doing so, we not only make our designs more accessible and relevant to a wider audience but also acknowledge and celebrate the uniqueness of each individual. This is the essence of true human-centred design – where every user matters, and design is a reflection of the breadth and depth of human diversity.

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Oct 18 2023
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The Liberating Power of Owning Your Failures in Design

Embrace the Unknown to Foster Authenticity, Growth, and Innovation

Confidence and expertise are hallmarks of success in the design world—whether you’re an architect, a UI/UX designer, or a graphic artist. But let’s face it, everyone has gaps in their knowledge and skills. Moreover, in a field that is evolving at a lightning-fast pace, it’s simply impossible to know everything. So, why are we so afraid to admit either that we don’t have all the answers or that the solution we came up with was plain wrong?

I recently came across two compelling articles that made me rethink this attitude of infallibility that we so often chase in our professional lives. The first, from Behavioral Scientist, explored the psychological benefits of admitting when you don’t know something. The second, by Paul Boag on Boagworld, delved into user interface design, highlighting the limitations and common errors even seasoned designers make. It struck me that the fusion of these insights can offer an invaluable lesson for design professionals: Embrace your failures and gaps in knowledge to pave the way for growth, innovation, and a more genuine connection with your audience.

The Psychological Upsides of Saying “I Don’t Know”
Let’s start by looking at the innate human fears of admitting we don’t know something. It’s as if acknowledging our ignorance is tantamount to admitting incompetence which would understandably deemed unacceptable in a professional setting. However, studies show that the opposite may be true and this should be something to acknowledge readily. Recognising the limits of our knowledge can increase our credibility and encourage more cooperative behaviour from others.

Not only does admitting you don’t know help you internally by freeing up cognitive resources that would otherwise be spent on maintaining a façade, but it also positively impacts how others perceive you. Psychologically, it humanises you, making you more relatable and approachable. Additionally, it leaves room for collaboration, inviting others to contribute their knowledge and perspectives.

Applying This Wisdom to the World of Design
Now, let’s tie this back to design. Like many fields, the world of design is filled with unspoken norms and unwritten rules that everyone is supposed to know but no one talks about. Whether you’re presenting at a prestigious design conference or showing your portfolio in a job interview, the pressure to showcase a spotless track record of success can be overwhelming.

However, by taking the bold step of highlighting not just your successes but also your failures, you invite conversation, collaboration, and critique. Most importantly, you stand to learn and grow both professionally and personally and, crucially appear human and relatable.

Case Study: the Millennium Bridge
Take, for example, the initial failure of the Millennium Bridge in London, which had to be closed just days after its opening due to swaying. The teams involved have variously acknowledged the collective failure that led to the extensive corrective solution and through the transparent sharing and public analysis of the problem the engineering, architecture and design team helped the community learn valuable lessons about the complex interplay of materials, design, and human behaviour – lessons that no doubt enriched future projects. Their openness about this failure not only humanised the individuals involved but also served as a learning experience for aspiring architects and designers.

Case Study: Me
I have had the task to redesign and rearchitect the navigation of Jaguar and Land Rover‘s website navigation on two occasions and on both attempts, I’ve been unhappy with the outcome. In these instances we variously used analytics to determine the most valuable content, we used heatmaps and click maps. We undertook card-sorting exercises, did desk research and relied on benchmark reports from the likes of Psyma and JD Power. We deployed good designers and UX architects on the job and a copy team. Even so, the end results have felt underwhelming and suffered from inconsistencies across international markets and when viewed on a wider variety of devices (viewports). We got it wrong, twice. We’re pretty sure now we know what we (as a wider team) got wrong and we’re excited about the future versions we’ll be deploying. Part of what I learned in the process has been to trust my gut as an experienced UX architect and the paradox that sometimes too much research, harvested with different agendas and inconsistently interpreted, can significantly muddy the waters.

Owning Your Failures Online
In the age of social media, where a curated image can overshadow the messy, intricate reality of professional life, owning your failures becomes even more crucial. Posting about your design challenges or projects that didn’t go as planned provides a more authentic view of your journey. This transparency not only humanises you but also makes you more relatable to others who are grappling with their own challenges, particularly at the start of their career or when wrestling with imposter syndrome.

Embracing failure and admitting gaps in your knowledge isn’t a weakness; it’s an essential part of growth in the design profession. Acknowledging our limitations fosters a culture of collaboration, innovation, and authenticity. Rather than just flaunting your successes, own your failures as well—they’re valuable learning experiences that contribute to both your personal growth and the broader design community.

To quote the brilliant designer and educator, Paula Scher, “It’s through mistakes that you actually can grow. You have to get bad in order to get good.”

Now, isn’t that liberating?

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Apr 03 2023
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Nurturing Skepticism and Inquiry: A Psychological Perspective on Encouraging Critical Thinking

Socrates, he liked people to ask questions. Perhaps too many?

If you’re having a friendly chat with a mate at work or the pub, or going down a Twitter reply hole, it’s not that unusual that you find yourself stumbling into a debate about something you were taught in school or a compelling argument you read some time ago. You’re dead sure of your position, and it’s pretty difficult sometimes to honestly question what you’ve been taught. 

In today’s post, I want to explore the pathology behind this response, as summed up by Feynman’s famous quote:

“The problem is not people being uneducated. The problem is that people are educated just enough to believe what they have been taught, but not educated enough to question what they have been taught“.

Cognitive Psychology and Education

Cognitive psychology is the study of mental processes like thinking, problem-solving, and decision-making. This branch of psychology teaches us that our brains are wired with a host of biases that can make us prone to simply accepting information we’ve been taught without a second thought. Let’s take a look at some of the big ones:

Confirmation bias: We’re more likely to search for, remember, and believe information that confirms our existing beliefs. We’re all guilty of it – it’s just how our brains work – but it means we might not be questioning what we’ve been taught if it lines up with what we already think and the balance of information in volume and saliency is all aligned to supporting that original belief.

The availability heuristic: This bias refers to our tendency to judge the likelihood of events based on how easily examples come to mind. So, if we’ve been taught something and it’s fresh in our minds, we’re more likely to think it’s true, even if it’s not. It might mean that the last person you heard speak on a topic in a meeting, for example, is the one that most strongly influences your opinion.

Illusory truth effect: Last but not least, this sneaky bias is when we’re more likely to believe the information we’ve heard repeatedly, regardless of its accuracy. In other words, if we’ve been taught something multiple times, we’re more inclined to believe it without questioning. It’s not difficult to see how this bias combined with the confirmation bias above builds a compelling defence against novel and contradictory information.

So, what can we do about these biases? A clear solution is to develop our critical thinking skills – you know, that thing your teachers always told you was important but never really explained why? Critical thinking helps us evaluate information more objectively and question what we’ve been taught. Sadly, whilst this type of Socratic thinking has been promoted for decades in the British education system, it remains on the sidelines as something to be spotted hopefully alongside student’s skill in particular subjects. The natural consequence of ‘good teaching’ rather than being called out (at least in the state system) as a specific competency that can be evaluated.

Evolutionary Psychology and the Desire to Conform

Evolutionary psychology is the study of how our mental processes have evolved to adapt to our environment. One key aspect of our evolution as social animals is our tendency to conform to group norms – after all, fitting in with the tribe meant a better chance of survival.

However, this need to conform can also make us more likely to accept what we’ve been taught without question. As the saying goes, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” but sometimes, the Romans might be wrong! So, how can we strike a balance between our evolutionary need to conform and our ability to think critically?

One approach is to create a culture of open-mindedness and healthy debate, where it’s not only accepted but encouraged to question the status quo and challenge commonly held beliefs. By fostering an environment that values curiosity and inquiry, we can better balance our innate desire to conform with the need for critical thinking. It’s not about rejecting our evolutionary instincts, but rather about adapting them to our modern world, where diverse perspectives and rigorous questioning can lead to richer knowledge and understanding.

Social Psychology and the Influence of Authority

Finally, let’s dive into social psychology, which explores how our thoughts, feelings, and behaviours are influenced by the presence of others. It turns out that authority figures can have a massive impact on our belief formation, sometimes leading us to accept information without question (“I was just following orders!”). We’ve all bemoaned the colleague or client that only seems to listen to the loudest voice in the room.

Two classic experiments can shed some light on this phenomenon:

The Milgram experiment: This infamous study by Stanley Milgram revealed that a whopping 65% of participants were willing to administer what they believed were dangerous electric shocks to an innocent person, simply because they were instructed to do so by an authority figure. It’s a chilling reminder of the power of authority in shaping our actions.

The Asch conformity experiments: These studies by Solomon Asch demonstrated that people are more likely to conform to the majority opinion, even when it’s wrong, if they perceive that the majority is supported by an authority figure. In other words, if our teachers, a best-selling author, a TV personality or other authority figures tell us something is true, we’re more inclined to believe it without question.

So, what can we do to counter the influence of authority on our beliefs? One strategy is to cultivate a culture of healthy scepticism and encourage the questioning of authority figures when necessary. This doesn’t mean we should disrespect or disregard authority, but rather, that we should learn to evaluate information based on its merits rather than blindly accepting it due to the status of the person presenting it. It was a little baffling to me to see so much criticism being levelled at people through the pandemic who were politely questioning ‘the science’ and authority, as anyone sensible should have been doing, and how terms like ‘peer review’ were being held out as the ultimate defence to close down any debate.

So several factors can make us more likely to believe what we’ve been taught without question. From cognitive biases to our evolutionary need for conformity to the influence of authority figures, it’s clear that our minds are not always as objective and rational as we might like to believe, a story which sounds tediously familiar from human-centred bloggers like me. But it’s certainly not as simple as to take the line that it’s a failure of education, more that it’s a failure of a sufficient focus in education to strengthen the skills to push back against very powerful cognitive and social biases. 

The good news of course is that we can take steps to counter these influences by promoting critical thinking, fostering a culture of open-mindedness and healthy debate, and nurturing a healthy scepticism of authority. By doing so, we can better navigate the challenge that will lead to a more enlightened and well-informed society.

This post was cross-posted and shared on LinkedIn 3rd April 2023

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