Beautiful Interfaces

Is it even possible to successfully apply the principles of open-source software to design? Or does really great design require a certain level of Steve Jobs-like tyranny, a sense that one vision is masterminding everything, or at least a single point of responsibility?

(By “design”, I’m referring to visual/experience/industrial/graphic/architectural/service/fashion design — all of the fields that deal primarily with creating some sort of effect or experience for a human being. I am not referring to things like the design of circuits or of hardware. Those fields are different.)

The relevant difference that I see is that really great software is usually quite modular. Software engineering principles like encapsulation and loose coupling mean that lots of people can work on something, each one taking a part, and still come out with something that integrates quite well and does what it is meant to do. This is probably what makes open-source projects work as well as they do.

On the other hand, really great design is incredibly integrated. If you look at a great experience, one of the striking points is the way in which every single aspect, from building architecture to package design to software interfaces, makes an integrated and coherent contribution to the experience. It has a personality — one personality, not a schizophrenic array of different voices all talking at once.

I wonder, given its coherent and integrated nature, whether great design is fundamentally incompatible with the open-source model. After all, “designed by committee” is a common insult, but there isn’t really an equivalent phrase relating to programming.

I. Axiom: Everyone thinks that their own piece of the puzzle is the most important.

“Look, I have George Washington’s face! I am the primary focus of this whole entire thing!”

“I am a corner piece – without me the whole puzzle would fall apart!”

“My puzzle piece is such a beautiful sky blue. Surely a blue this lovely must be the most important part of the whole thing.”

We all need to realize that the person who buys the puzzle only cares about the image on the front, and that all of the pieces fit together in the end.

II. Corollary: The more pieces you have, the longer it will take to assemble the damn thing.

There seem to be two fundamentally different types of organizations, that have two different ways of dealing with problems.

Process-focused organizations tend to look to formal processes and structures. When a problem occurs or something isn’t working as well as it could, they tend to respond by changing the process, adding more structural checks and balances, adding layers of oversight, or reorganizing groups. When things are going well, the process is seen as a success.

The upside of this is that what works can be recognized, taught, and made repeatable. In the best case, organizations can learn from their failures and create conditions that make it easy for people to succeed.

The downside is that organizations like this can come to view people as interchangeable cogs, ignore personal talent and potential, and in the worst case develop into gigantic, inflexible bureaucracies. They tend to underestimate individual differences, and put more weight on external factors (guidelines, documentation, formal processes) than on internal ones.

Person-focused organizations tend to look to individuals. When a problem occurs, they tend to respond by assigning blame, and the responsibility to fix the problem, to particular people. When things are going well, high-performing or highly visible individuals get the credit for it.

The upside of this is that talented people can be highly rewarded and make a big difference. In the best case, the organization is flexible and agile, members are much more productive without layers of red tape and approvals, and people are able to develop to the full extent of their abilities.

The downside is that individuals can be unfairly blamed or scapegoated when problems do occur; individuals that are more outgoing or who “talk big” can steal credit from quieter individuals; and in the worst case it can lead to a culture that rewards last-dash heroic effort over consistent work and good planning. These organizations may underestimate the impact that environment has on a person, and put more weight on internal factors (talent, work ethic, willingness to schmooze) than on external ones.

In my mind, the ideal case is somewhere in the middle, leaning more toward the person-focused side, but with a lightweight, flexible process that is revisited at least once a year. (I also think that the bigger your organization is, the more it tends to go toward one extreme or the other; but I don’t have any real evidence to back that up, just anecdotal observations.)

Where does your organization fall along this spectrum? Where do your personal preferences fall? Is there a mismatch between the two, and does that mismatch cause you any problems?

(In case anyone outside the US reads this: the DMV is the Department of Motor Vehicles, the place where you have to go to get your drivers license renewed or replaced, get an ID card, and other such licensing requirements for vehicles.)

The DMV sucks. Every one that I know hates it, hates going there, hates standing in line for hours and sitting on the floor and being grumped at by unlikeable government serfs. I have a bad habit of losing my wallet (the current record is twice in one year), and every time I have to go to the DMV to get my license replaced, I get a feeling of dread. It is a thoroughly unpleasant experience, and one that people hold up regularly as an example of government incompetence.

So what could be done to change that? Just for fun, I’d like to invite you to join me in brainstorming how you would change the DMV to make it more effective and less miserable. (Leave a comment with your ideas!)

I think I would start by listing the common reasons that people go to the DMV, and then I would run some time studies on each category of task, to gain a thorough understanding of the time required to complete each type of task. For example, taking your initial drivers test is going to take a lot more time than getting your address changed.

I would use the findings of these studies to create an online reservation system with a pleasant, simple interface, where people could indicate what they needed to do and sign up for a specific time slot to come in. The system would allocate appointments to workers, based on the length of time needed for each task (with some extra built in). And — this is the key part — I would build into the system a feedback mechanism where the DMV employees could indicate when they finished each appointment.

This way, if things started to back up and run late the system could a) reallocate appointments to other workers who might have extra time, and b) send people text/email notifications, like airlines do when a flight is delayed. There could even be an iPhone app where you could check your place in the queue, find out whether your appointment was likely to be delayed, and reschedule if necessary.

My motivation with this redesign is to tackle what I see as the biggest point of pain, which is the interminable waiting (often measured in hours) and the powerlessness of not knowing what time you’re going to be seen. My system would provide better feedback to the user, allowing them to make better use of their time; and it would benefit the employees too, because they wouldn’t be dealing with huge backups and angry, disgruntled customers all of the time. (And of course the scheduling algorithm would take into account lunch hours, breaks, and vacation days.)

In order to accommodate the constituency that doesn’t have internet access, there could be scheduling kiosks in the DMV lobby, where people could come in and make their appointment. That way at least they could leave and do other things while waiting.

Of course, the real-life DMV is a government monopoly and therefore has no incentive to change. But it’s fun to think about how much better things could be, if they decided to leap into the 21st century.

[Update: Hey, it looks like California and Florida actually have online scheduling systems. Good for them! Although they still don't provide the granular level of feedback that I think would be ideal.]

Meta: I’m going to be posting these redesign exercises occasionally in this blog. Sometimes it’s fun to brainstorm without real-life constraints, and to look at a broken system and think about how it could be improved.

I would like to invite you to participate along with me, in the comments. What do you hate most about the DMV? How would you change the experience, if you could?

Today I am writing from a place of discouragement. 

I am discouraged because I realized today that I’ve been working at my current place of employment for more than 3 years now, and in that time, I have created not one single thing that another person is actually using.  And that’s not likely to change in the foreseeable future. But that that’s my motivation, that’s what it’s all about for me: creating awesome stuff for other people to use.

Money is important, but it isn’t motivation.  Writing reports and making PowerPoint slides may be “important” for one hour, but then they are forgotten; that’s not motivation either.  Even simply having great coworkers isn’t enough.  The reason why I do what I do is because I love creating awesome stuff for other people to use.

Let’s repeat that again, for emphasis. The reason why I do what I do is because I love creating awesome stuff for other people to use.

But my intention with this post is not to whine, but to consider. 

Is it possible to be in a bureaucracy but not of it?  Is it possible to be part of an organization that is slow and inflexible, yet not become deadened by it?  Is it possible to retain your motivation, your hunger, your desire to be the best that you can possibly be — your desire to create — after years of watching everything you do, every piece of work that you’ve poured all of your brain and heart and energy into, vanish into the ether and disappear?

In a bureaucracy no one owns anything; everything belongs to everyone, or to no one.  Is it possible, then, to still own the things that are in front of you, to take pride in the work of your own hands — and then to let go of it once it leaves your grasp, and turns into something unrecognizable?

Is is possible to remain detached enough to avoid falling into frustration and discouragement, yet engaged enough to continue to strive for excellence in everything that you do?

I sure hope so.  It might require the stubbornness of a mule and the enlightenment of a Buddhist monk, but I really hope that it is possible.  Because there are a whole lot of bureaucracies in this world, and a whole lot of broken systems to deal with.

If the only two choices are to give up or to leave, there’s no hope of changing any of that for the better.