I was using Wite-Out® today for the first time in years. As I painted out type, I thought for a moment what it might have been like to be a Wite-Out product manager 10 years ago. Imagine asking the user experience question: What bothers Wite-Out users about Wite-Out? What can we improve? The immediate replies that came to mind:

• Waiting for the Wite-Out to dry
• Clumpy application of the correction fluid after the first use; the fluid dries and sticks to the brush and the neck of the bottle
• Having to paint over the same words two or three times because they show through even after the first application
• The smell (some people like it, some hate it)

What jumps out here is that improvement in any one of the first three areas will have a negative impact on one or two of the others. If Wite-Out dried faster, it would dry (and clump up) on the bottle and brush applicator faster. If it clumped less, it would take more time to dry; it would also be a thinner fluid that would be less opaque once the liquid evaporated.It’s a no-win scenario, which is probably why there were no major changes in Wite-Out technology over the first 20 years of my life: the product designers had found the best balance — or perhaps the least-bad compromise — between drying quickly and maintaining wetness (smoothness), and were sticking to it. But it must have been frustrating if you were trying to make a better product and increase market share.I popped over to Bic’s Wite-Out site to have a look. Guess what? As of 1994, there are four different formulations of fluid Wite-Out: Quick Dry,  Super Smooth, Extra Coverage and Water Base (low odor). Hm.I suppose a cynic might say that there are four different packages for the same product, and the formulation label just panders to the public’s varying degrees of Wite-Out insecurity. In fact, the proliferation of Wite-Out recipes reminds me of Malcolm Gladwell’s classic statement from Howard Moskowitz that “There is no perfect spaghetti sauce. There are only perfect spaghetti sauces.” In The Ketchup Conundrum, Gladwell expresses it thus:

The answer appeared almost immediately: a specific recipe that, according to Moskowitz’s data, produced a score of 78 from the people in Segment 1.  But that same formulation didn’t do nearly as well with those in Segment 2 and Segment 3.  They scored it 67 and 57, respectively.  Moskowitz started again, this time asking the computer to optimize for Segment 2.  This time the ratings came in at 82, but now Segment 1 had fallen ten points, to 68. “See what happens?” he said.  ”If I make one group happier, I piss off another group.  We did this for coffee with General Foods, and we found that if you create only one product the best you can get across all the segments is a 60—if you’re lucky.  That’s if you were to treat everybody as one big happy family.  But if I do the sensory segmentation, I can get 70, 71, 72.  Is that big? Ahhh.  It’s a very big difference.  In coffee, a 71 is something you’ll die for.”

I’m guessing that a similar process went on at Bic: if you can’t actually improve a product’s features without making some other problem even more annoying, then instead of finding a compromise balance (as was done historically), optimize for each problem separately. Voila! Four kinds of Wite-Out.Of course, you can then go ask Barry Schwartz why having four correction fluid options won’t make your life happier…P.S.: I just realized that Wite-Out also now has a sponge-wedge tip instead of that inconvenient shaggy bristle tip. Nice!

I had an experience yesterday that was totally exhausting, but fascinating. An expected action catalyzed an unexpected emotional reaction; a relatively small incident set off a huge welter of emotions. The trigger turned out to represent — and therefore evoke — much larger, parallel, issues that lurked under the surface.

It’s almost like a pain path: when a person has physical pain, it stimulates the nerve path to the brain. The more often that path is traced, the more developed — and responsive — that nerve path grows. And the more sensitive and exquisite the pain.

I don’t know if the identical neuronal process applies to emotions. If it doesn’t, it surely provides a useful parallel, a useful analogy. Once an emotional route is traced — a certain type of event, a certain interpretation of that event, a certain emotional response to that event — that same route is more likely to be retraced the next time an event of that type occurs.

[I suppose this is the foundation of behavioral psychology: to encourage a desired emotional response by forcing interpretation (either positive or negative) to a controlled event combination (grafting a contrived event onto one that otherwise occurs spontaneously). And by repeating the process over and over, to “retrain” the interpretation to that type of event, thus leading to a different, more desirable, emotional response.]

Musing on Using

All of this led me to think about how the best products or interfaces take positive advantage of this quality: of the ability of one small experience to somehow tap into a depth of prior, more emotional experiences.

In some ways, this is the goal of great User Experience design: to create a series of positively felt interactions that build upon one another to create a superlative overall experience of a product.

Every “Little” Interaction Counts

This is why every “little” key press, every symmetry of interface, every tactile feedback, every sound, every visual transition matters so much. It’s why people like Steve Jobs and Jon Ives are totally obsessive. Because the User Experience as a whole is created by tens and hundreds of little interactions, little trigger events.

On the one hand, this means that the system can tolerate a certain degree of bad experience (think Symbian S60 menus), if the overall experience is positive enough (think Nokia phones). Because the positive emotional reaction will still be triggered often enough to keep the overall experience positive.

On the other hand, this means that the first series of experience event absolutely has to be wonderful, to establish the desired User Experience pathway (think original Palm Pilot). If not, a neutral or negative pathway is established, which is difficult to overcome — perhaps impossible to overcome entirely (think Motorola RAZR).

Creating Passionate Relationships

But the really powerful lesson is that if once you’ve established a solid experience path, you can evoke a strong response in it with even a very small interaction (think iPhone). You can leverage the historic cumulation of experiences to evoke a disproportionate emotional response… for better or for worse.

Each little experience doesn’t just add to the effects of the previous ones, it builds upon them. The speed and intensity increase, up to a certain point. You get more bang for your buck. And you create passionate user-device relationships.

From the “Beyond Words” blog:

In 2004, the British Council asked this question to approximately 40,000 non-native English speakers in 46 different countries. According to the survey results, the top ten most beautiful English words from a non-native speaker’s perspective are:

mother
passion
smile
love
eternity
fantastic
destiny
freedom
liberty
tranquility

In a different kind of assessment, a distinguished lexicographer and the originator of the Reader’s Digest Column “It Pays to Enrich Your Word Power”, Wilfred Funk, compiled the following list of the most beautiful words of the English language:

asphodel
fawn
dawn
chalice
anemone
tranquil
hush
golden
halcyon
camellia
bobolink
thrush
chimes
murmuring
lullaby
luminous
damask
cerulean
melody
marigold
jonquil
oriole
tendril
myrrh
mignonette
gossamer
alysseum
mist
oleander

amaryllis

rosemary

Do you notice a difference between the lists? Unscientifically, it seems to me that the first list of Most Beautiful Words (the list chosen by non-native English speakers) is weighted more towards the meaning of the words, plus their overall strength or punch. The second list (from a professional word lover) is weighted more towards the “mouth feel” of the words (with an apparent bias for the “s” sound!), plus their romantic or nostalgic memories (although I can’t fathom the inclusion of “bobolink”…).

I find that difference really, really interesting. It kind of points to the meaning and nostalgia with which words become impregnated over time. The layers of implication that we build up over years of use, misuse, abuse of words. Fascinating.

Some things are basic truths: we become great through difficulty. I don’t know why, of course; but life experience has shown that it’s true. (I suspect it has to do with galus: that alternate route, that more difficult historical path to redemption.)

Shmula has posted a marvelous piece, attributed to General Douglas MacArthur:

Build me a son who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is a afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishes will not take the place of deeds; a son who will know Thee — and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spew of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goal will be high, a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men, one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, and the meekness of true strength.

Of course, we don’t wish for our children to suffer. But shouldn’t we wish for our children to achieve personal greatness? Shouldn’t we wish for ourselves to achieve personal greatness?

Perhaps reading General MacArthur’s prayer serves as a sort of litmus test: how deeply do we feel the words; how truly do we yearn to make our lives worth living?

Perhaps reading General MacArthur’s prayer puts us into a frame of mind where we feel less sorry for ourselves, less angry at the world, and more determined than ever to be Big.

*  *  *

Here’s another version, via the American Information Web:

A Father Prayer by General Douglas MacArthur (May 1952)

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee — and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

Lead him I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength.

Then, I, his father, will dare to whisper, have not lived in vain.

If you’ve read this blog before, then you know that my favorite thing about words is how the sound, overt meaning, implied meaning, personal use history and spelling all work together to create an experience of a word, something I celebrate from time to time with “Word of the Day”.

One of the things that I love about words is the way they not only provide a window on our thoughts, they can actually shape our thoughts. There are startling uses of this (hypnotism, suggestion), and controlling uses (advertising, propaganda), of course.

But there’s another commonplace use of words that really intrigues me: the use of internal conversation to influence emotional response. In psychology this power is used to “reframe”, to intentionally use words to encourage one’s attitude to a situation (”How will eating this donut help me with my diet?” instead of “But I want it so badly!”).

It seems to me that inner-conversation has the power to put the rational or logical part of our thinking in control over the emotional or irrational reactions. This is a mighty weapon, and an underused one.

Lately, I’ve seen a number of studies demonstrating the power of inner conversation, for better and for worse. For example, talking about an experience soon after it occurs tends to blunt or dull the emotional reaction to it — thus negative experiences are felt less awfully if you speak (or write) them out, but positive experiences lose their sharpness similarly.

Is the effect of immediate verbalization on event memory (people are more liable to remember an event incorrectly when they speak about it soon after it occurs) related to the emotional blunting? Or is this completely different?

Does reliance on menuing systems for mobile operating system functions contain within itself the seeds of emotional distance and reduced learning capacity? (More on this to come…) Ouch.

Carnival of the Mobilists #144 is now up at Xen Mendelsohn’s Xellular Identity blog (cheers from Israel!). My “On Delaying Gratification” post of Sept. 28 is included. Have a look to see this week’s best writing on everything mobile!

*This image makes me hear “Masquerade” from Phantom of the Opera.

Previous research suggests that higher intelligence is related to better self-control, but the reasons for this link are unknown. Psychologists Noah A. Shamosh and Jeremy R. Gray, from Yale University, and their colleagues, were interested in testing the idea that certain brain regions supporting short-term memory play a critical role in this relationship.

[…]

The results show that participants with the greatest activation in the brain region known as the anterior prefrontal cortex also scored the highest on intelligence tests and exhibited the best self-control during the financial reward test. This was the only brain region to show this relation. The results appear in the September issue of Psychological Science, a journal of the Association for Psychological Science. [via PhysOrg]

A very wise educator taught me that impulsivity or the lack of ability to delay gratification reflects immaturity. He holds that children are more emotion-driven than intellect-driven, but that balance swings the other way with age. Once a person is an adult, the ability to defer gratification for a later, greater reward indicates maturity of development. This exactly correlates with the above findings,

“It has been known for some time that intelligence and self-control are related, but we didn’t know why. Our study implicates the function of a specific brain structure, the anterior prefrontal cortex, which is one of the last brain structures to fully mature,” said Dr. Shamosh [italics mine].

Here are the questions that we absolutely must ask:

1. Is the ability to delay gratification solely a natural result of the chronological development of the anterior prefrontal cortex (the ability to wait develops naturally)? Or does it flow the other way, with exercise of self-control helping to mature the brain (practice makes perfect)?
2. Do “external” conditions that negatively impact working memory (hormonal disruptions, physical illness, depression) also have a negative effect on self-control capacity?
3. Is intelligence coincidentally correlated with the ability to delay gratification (for example, are intelligence and self-control controlled by the same brain structures?), or is there a functional relationship between the two (for example, does greater intelligence lead to greater self-control, or vice-versa?)? Alternatively, is the correlation an artifact of how we test intelligence?

And the “threatening questions” (I ought to copyright the term…):

1. Does the electronic virtual environment in which so much time is spent actually inhibit or discourage the development of self-control skills?
2. Could spending too much time as a child in virtual environments which usually provide instant gratification affect adult levels of intelligence?
3. As a professional working to improve User Experience, is it possible that “making life easier” for people is actually doing them less of a favor than it is helping them? Am I destroying individual worlds while trying to “save the world”? (OK, I’m being a bit dramatic here, but I do feel strongly about design responsibility.)

Seen recently at a security checkpoint in BKK (Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport*):

Using music stands as mobile desks makes perfect sense, but the musical decorations didn’t support the “fear and awe” that security should exude.

*maybe if I write it out enough times, I’ll actually remember the airport’s real name.

I hear a lot of predictions about the future of mobile user interface (not surprising: it’s my field). One that always hits me wrong is the prediction that “everything” will move away from the 12-key input pad to voice activation. This tag line, from Vlingo’s website, promotes that assumption (also not surprising: it’s their field): “Why tap when you can talk?”

SMS, the world’s most popular communication means by far (see below) embodies the polar opposite interface: everything is contained in layers within 12 keys.

SpinVox stakes a claim right in between Vlingo and SMS: they offer voice-to-text translation of voicemail messages and personal notes. The best of both worlds, so to speak; a combination of voice and text usage. SpinVox claims that it’s seven times faster to speak than to type. I don’t know what kind of tests that’s based on, but let’s accept it as true.

The real question we have to ask is, What do people prefer?

This semester, T-Mobile is tapping graduate students at the Illinois Institute of Technology’s Institute of Design for research insights. To investigate how people use their mobile devices, the students are staking out their local Starbucks and asking subjects to document their phone usage with digital cameras.

The project, which will last until May and could shape future mobile plans and phones, has already spawned one insight: Young people prefer text messaging to voicemail because it’s more direct. “It’s about how we deal with information … such a rich field for designers to explore,” says Associate Professor Vijay Kumar, who heads the workshop.

(from Innovative Cellphones, Forbes.com, March 19, 2008)

First major fact: No one input means is perfect for every use case. Forget what every input technology company website tells you.

Second major fact: 350 billion voicemail messages are left globally per year. (source: SpinVox presentation at MEX) I couldn’t find any numbers on the number of voice calls completed globally, but I expect it’s less than…

Third major fact: 2.8 trillion SMS text messages are projected to be sent this year. (source: Tomi Ahonen consulting) I’ll hang on a second while you go back and re-read that last statistic. Yep, 2.8 trillion.

Personally, it’s hard to me to imagine a case where I’d use voice activation of anything, with the possible exception of in a car. I’d hate it in the car, but might use voice control to keep my hands on the steering wheel. Even that’s a stretch. But let’s leave me out of it.

People do prefer text to voice in many situations. Why? Why tap when you can talk? Let me count the ways…

• Cost. SMS is usually cheaper per message than cellular calls are per minute.
• Privacy/Discretion. Often, you don’t want to be heard by your neighbors (eg, in a meeting). Or — sorry to break the news — they don’t want to hear you (eg, in a movie theater).
• Perceived time. I don’t know what the reality is, but people may consider texting (or emailing from a computer) to be less time consuming than talking by phone. Why? Partly because no time is spent on courtesy chit-chat; partly because time spent entering text isn’t registered the same way that time spent listening to other people talk is registered; partly, perhaps, it is an illusion.
• Insecurity. Call screening used to be considered anti-social and arrogant. Now it’s a normal part of life. But calling a mobile phone implies near-certainty that the other party will hear the call come in. What if the other party rejects your call? Even if the reason is a good one — he’s in a meeting, in the bathroom, sleeping, watching a movie, has his hands full — the sense is still that “something else” was more important than talking to me. Sending a text message alleviates the need to experience that little subconscious emotional tension while the phone rings. You send the message; the other party will respond within a reasonable amount of time (or won’t).
• Avoidance of intimacy. Having a vocalized conversation encourages a level of personal connection that isn’t necessary in a test message. There’s a protocol of “how are you?” and “how’s your Mom?” and “thanks for the update; I’ll get back to you.” People are often lazy, selfish, or not interested enough to invest that kind of energy when “im 10 mis l8″ will convey the required message.

• Burden of attention. Slightly different from the previous issue of the energy demands of intimacy, this has more to do with attention and focus. SMS allows you to interact as much as you want to, for as long as you want to, when you want to. You can limit your attention. In a conversation, you need to be “on”, to listen, to provide feedback — in other words, it takes attention.

If you are watching TV or reading emails or playing your PSP while the other person is talking, they will notice and be offended. In an SMS or IM exchange, you can only pay attention when you’re the one talking (and doesn’t that make for the most interesting conversations?). No feigning interest required. In that sense, SMS is the ultimate self-centered communication medium.

In fact, you might consider micro-blogging (eg, Twitter, Facebook status), which combines broadcasting with SMS, to be the truly ultimate environments for self-centered communication. That might explain their popularity.

And with this, I think I have a reasonable answer to the question: Why tap when you can talk?

I had a peculiar experience today looking for a particular garment in a folded stack. The shirt I was wanted was floral, but much of my attention was occupied with stuff that’s on my mind, and somehow the “seeking” part of my brain decided that it was looking for a white shirt. I went through the pile twice on autopilot before the lack of success woke me up enough to [a] notice that [b] I hadn’t found the shirt, and [c] that’s because I was looking for a white shirt when the “mission accomplished” message would only be activated by finding a print one.

Once I looked for the floral, it only took a moment to find it.

I was struck by the process, though. It’s interesting on so many levels: the auto-search, the potential for confusing search goals, the role of attention and inattention in defining, tracking, and tallying goals.

How often in life do we not find what we’re looking for because what we’re looking for isn’t actually what we’re looking for?