{"id":19972,"date":"2020-04-24T16:00:20","date_gmt":"2020-04-24T15:00:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/marvel7077.wpengine.com\/?p=19972"},"modified":"2020-08-21T14:06:29","modified_gmt":"2020-08-21T13:06:29","slug":"learner-not-knower","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/marvelapp.com\/blog\/learner-not-knower\/","title":{"rendered":"Be a learner, not a knower"},"content":{"rendered":"

Do you ever think about the play icon? It\u2019s pretty\u2026 iconic. Looking at it, an incredibly high percentage of people are likely to understand, instantly, what it\u2019s communicating and how to interact with it. This is an example of what Don Norman would refer to as an affordance: An existing relationship between an object and a person that implies an expected outcome.<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a>A symbol with such a high level of affordance that YouTube uses it in their logo<\/p>\n

Regardless of the interface\u2014YouTube, Netflix, or even a VCR\u2014we\u2019re fairly confident we know how to initiate a video when we come across one. Growing up with the everyone-has-a-microwave-in-the-home generation, it\u2019s a symbol I\u2019ve never questioned. In fact, a friend of mine argues that we\u2014those early tech crash test dummies\u2014learned the ins and outs of technology through ignorant fearlessness. We learned how to operate the VCR because we were naive enough to push all the buttons and wait for a response.<\/p>\n

There were also way more buttons in those days.<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a>See what I mean?<\/p>\n

Today I learn from asking questions; obsessing over how things work by analyzing interactions<\/strong>. It\u2019s an exercise that often relies on flat-out talking to people. Every time we question the way things work, we collect data on everyday interactions and strengthen our understanding of, not only what works, but why people love \u201cthis thing\u201d versus \u201cthat thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\"Surveys and focus groups can be soulless and impersonal, but conversations between people align understanding and foster honest communication.\"<\/p><\/span><\/blockquote>\n

Before pledging my allegiance to UX, I spent roughly 10 years working for creative agencies: The marketing with a big M world. And in that world we would often talk about knowing our audience. Today, I associate \u201cknowing\u201d with top-level data such as unique monthly site visitors, conversion rates\u2026 general analytics. While all of that data is measurable, it doesn\u2019t give us the metrics we need to understand what people think, or how they act.<\/p>\n

In fact, one of my favorite quotes on this idea comes from a short sci-fi novel from the early 1940s by Theodore Sturgeon, titled The Microcosmic God<\/em>. In it he writes, of the protagonist: \u201cHe was always asking questions, and didn\u2019t mind very much when they were embarrassing\u2026 if he was talking to someone whose knowledge was already in his possession, he only asked repeatedly: \u2018How do you know<\/a>?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\"You see, 'knowing' can\u2019t always be trusted. The concept itself leads to more questions. 'Understanding' is about getting into the hearts and brains of the people behind those numbers so we can make more informed decisions. Knowing allows us to target a specific type of person, while understanding provides a path to designing loveable products and experiences.\"<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe know\u201d is a phrase that often leads to failure. And we all fail at following our own advice sometimes.<\/p>\n

. . .<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I Don't Understand<\/h2>\n

Somewhere in mid-2018 my mom agreed to watch our kids, at our house, so that my wife and I could go out. The kids wanted to watch a movie later that night, so to help her out I turned on the Blu-ray player, popped in the disc and handed her the remote, and told her to \u201cjust hit play\u201d whenever they were ready.<\/p>\n

And she said, \u201cWhich button is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

I was kind of shocked, so after a pause I answered, \u201c\u2026The play button.\u201d<\/p>\n

And she repeated her question.<\/p>\n

Now, when it comes to my interactions with my mother I\u2019m the type of person that will pick my hill and die on it, so, of course, I answered again with, \u201cThe play button.\u201d But I put a little more emphasis on it this time, hoping that would clear things up.<\/p>\n

She responded that she didn\u2019t know which button I was talking about, so I kind of pumped my fists and emphatically stated: \u201cThe play button! This is a universally-understood symbol with 30+ years of history behind it,\u201d and graciously pointed at the button.<\/p>\n

And she said, \u201cWell, you should have just said \u2018push the arrow.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Come to find out, my mom\u201465 years old at the time\u2014had never used a remote in her life. At home, she still got up and walked to the TV to change the channel, turn it on\/off, adjust the volume, etc. Though I was shocked by this revelation, I realized that I got caught up in my own expectation that we shared a similar understanding. I should have asked questions, rather than knowing that I was right<\/em> and assuming that she misunderstood<\/em>.<\/p>\n

. . .<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Be a Learner, Not a Knower<\/h2>\n

When we treat our views as objective facts, it\u2019s easy to make mistakes that are driven by assumptions. In the case of Jon v. Mom, the stakes were minimal. But when a company or brand fails to seek understanding, the consequences could be ruinous.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

. . .<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The big break for Silk came in 1978 when a national supermarket chain started carrying their products. Today, most of us know that products like soy and almond milk are shelf stable, meaning they don\u2019t have to be refrigerated until they are opened. But, initially, Silk products were parked in the produce section, next to the fresh fruits and nuts.<\/p>\n

This made sense to the makers of Silk, but in the late 1970s there were few consumers willing to give warm \u201cmilk\u201d a try. Silk was taking a serious Neil Armstrong-sized step in their attempt to disrupt a pretty stable market without so much as talking to consumers.<\/p>\n

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\"'We know' is a phrase that often leads to failure.\"<\/p><\/span><\/blockquote>\n

Unsurprisingly, sales were consistently low until someone had the genius idea to move Silk products to the refrigerated case, right next to the dairy milk. This simple move, of catering to consumers\u2019 expectations, not only saved their brand but put the product in a competitive (and expected) space.<\/p>\n

In 1978 the makers of Silk knew their product, but they didn\u2019t understand their customer<\/strong>, because they didn\u2019t talk to them. 40 years later, non-dairy milk represents nearly 20% of the overall dairy market.<\/p>\n

. . .<\/p>\n

Experience = Understanding<\/h2>\n

In my final year working at an agency, I found that more and more often I was being discouraged from asking questions. Often ones that I felt were really important to understanding the goals of a project or reacting to client feedback. The need to make the client happy often prevented really valuable conversations from taking place.<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cA homemade-fresh cake\u2014you add fresh eggs.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s through those honest, face-to-face conversations that real problems are often solved. A defining example being the story\u2014more likely legend\u2014of Betty Crocker cake mix.<\/p>\n

In the 1950s, General Mills launched Betty Crocker cake mix in a box. By formulating a complete recipe made of dry goods, General Mills birthed\u2014what they thought to be\u2014a revolutionary product in the early days of American consumerism: All the ingredients of a cake; just add water.<\/p>\n

The product was marketed as the error-free alternative for busy homemakers, saving both time and effort that could be applied to other household duties.<\/p>\n

But it didn\u2019t sell well.<\/p>\n

So they decided to talk to their audience<\/strong>, and found that the average American housewife felt bad about using the product. The cakes were great, but the credit they got from their friends and family felt way more than they deserved. The product actually made users feel deceitful. So they gave up.<\/p>\n

Instead of coming up with a slick advertising campaign telling the modern housewife (remember, this was the 1950s) that it was ok to have more time for laundry, cleaning, and other household chores, General Mills actually altered the product to require a fresh egg be added to the mix.<\/p>\n

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\"Knowing allows us to target a specific type of person, while understanding provides a path to designing loveable products and experiences.\"<\/p><\/span><\/blockquote>\n

This small change of adding a fresh ingredient to the process made consumers feel less guilt over using the product, and today people rarely bake a cake from \u201cscratch.\u201d It\u2019s important to remember that we don\u2019t always embrace the things that simplify our lives.<\/p>\n

The lesson we learn from this story\u2014true or untrue\u2014is that often we need to experience the pain first, to be able to understand it<\/strong>. Approaching problems with ignorance and an inquisitive mind allows us to dig beneath the surface of those problems, by asking questions and placing assumptions aside. This is how we learn to empathize; to understand how people think and act. And empathy leads to better solutions designed for people<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

In product design, we often benefit from sticking to expectations for interface and functionality so that we build products that work the way people expect them to<\/strong>. Before reinventing the wheel, before trying to innovate, one must first understand the value\u2014the time, effort, and knowledge\u2014that went into the thing they are attempting to disrupt.<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The very first car radio, released in 1930, had a rotating knob that adjusted the volume up by turning it to the right, and down by turning it to the left. And 90 years later we\u2019re still using radio knobs the same way.<\/p>\n

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\"When people already understand a format, why force them to learn something new?\"<\/p><\/span><\/blockquote>\n

But 2016 saw the launch of a Honda Pilot crossover that did away with the standard volume knob in favor of a volume control slider; a feature on the vehicle\u2019s touchscreen interface. By 2019, the old-fashioned knob was back due to an abundance of consumer complaints.<\/p>\n

If Honda product designers would have asked users to think about their typical interactions with a volume knob, they would have found that we reach for it to turn the music down when we\u2019re having a conversation or listening to navigation, or quickly turn it up when we hear our favorite song or the cheer of a crowd during a baseball game. It\u2019s a tool that provides us with quick results without taking our attention from the road.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s more familiar to us than steering wheel controls or voice-activated features, and therefore our most reliable volume control when driving an unfamiliar vehicle with an unfamiliar dashboard.<\/p>\n

Implementing features that require precise hand interactions and take drivers\u2019 eyes off the road for an extended period of time is a reckless use of technology. In an attempt to \u201cmodernize\u201d their vehicle\u2019s interface, Honda was instead disrupting a lifetime of driving habits. That\u2019s a big gamble on technology.<\/p>\n

The Honda story teaches us that more technology isn\u2019t always the answer<\/strong>, and reinforces the idea that affordances (and familiarity) drive usability<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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\"Innovation doesn\u2019t come without insight.\"<\/p><\/span><\/blockquote>\n

To truly validate ideas, we have to know how people think and feel. Surveys and focus groups can be soulless and impersonal, but conversations between people align understanding and foster honest communication. It\u2019s said that Henry Ford famously stated, \u201cIf I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.\u201d And this may have worked in the 1920s. But in today\u2019s everyone-is-a-user marketplace, as my colleague puts it:<\/p>\n

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If Henry Ford would have asked people what they wanted they would have tapped \"Skip Survey\"<\/p>\n

\u2014 Shawn Donoho (@throwgoats) January 17, 2020<\/a><\/p><\/span><\/blockquote>\n