Learning to Laugh
Life can be a rather
humorous existence, or at least, I tend to laugh at myself more than I berate
myself. It is a healthy disposition to have. What fools we have been in too
many things, though hopefully we have refused to allow those things to define
us.
Consider the pressure
to deliver a product that was less than ready for primetime, yet pushed towards
deployment by the powers that be. This came after misgivings and concerns that
eventually became valid and were proved so too.

An AI-generated infographic on the blog content. (Click to enlarge.)
I found myself
testing a premise that did not work. Every time I made an adjustment, I did not
see the expected result. When I was asked to put it out immediately, I had one
inescapable point: what is not working cannot be deployed. I had a slight
window of protest, insisting that until it worked on my system, it could go
nowhere.
When I eventually got
the working parts to work, I realised my error had been using a similarly named
old component when the new one was intended. The urge from one end had
beclouded my ability to concentrate. Once I discovered what the issue was, I
sternly suggested that people should ease off and wait for my update.
Back to the Drawing
Board
The next morning, we
saw some results, along with the proof of why the other parts would not work.
We had the knowledge, but the architects, in their wisdom and hubris, thought
they knew better.
Did I not write about this last month, when I set out why
technical authority without social consent produces brittle solutions? The
whole process returned to the drawing board, yet once again it missed the
essential part of engagement that would take a great concept to a successful
deployment.
Then came another
issue. I had written a letter to express my frustration at being unable to
secure a slot for a review. The website presented a user experience you barely
wanted to relive once, let alone many times over a couple of weeks.
An Unwinnable Lottery
As I recorded all the
issues that fed what had looked like an unwinnable lottery for access, I
clicked on another link within the interface, only to find that a slot had
already been booked on my behalf, though I could find no record of being
informed of that appointment.
I did, however, find
one message that allowed the rescheduling of an earlier slot; but I attributed
that to another booking I had received a few days before. What was missing from
the information exchanges was any indication of what each message particularly
pertained to.
When Systems Forget
the User
How much better it
could have been if they had not assumed they were the only ones communicating
with you, and that the possibility of multiple appointments scheduled within a
short timeframe might exacerbate the confusion about what was what.
This discovery meant
my letter of frustration did not have to be sent. It was also a relief that the
said slot had not passed, as the alternative arrangements made would not have
been realised for almost three weeks.
The Wry Smile
Essentially, badly
designed systems are just that: badly designed, no matter how they seem to
work. The end user is simply left with concerns, frustrations and misgivings,
entirely out of the frame of what affects them the most, because they are not
properly considered as part of why, and for whom, the system was designed.
Then, for each of
these episodes, when things are not as bad as they once seemed, there is a wry
smile, some mirth and laughter, and even that urge to step out for a walk for
having been so worked up earlier.
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