The best user experiences don’t just appear.
There has been wrestling, re-writing, debating, churning, oscillating, testing, and a dash of daring that has preceded that app, or product, falling into our hands.
When we’re bringing something new to the world—a product, a piece of art, a song, a new venture—it’s tempting to apologise for the nit pick.
But don’t pull your punches.
The game is won over a thousand small things.
Note: I started following Ben’s blog earlier this year. He writes down random memories that come back to him that he wants to remember. He uses the geeky ‘Randomly Accessed Memories’ and I liked it—so I’m stealing it and using it too!
It’s Saturday morning. Football day. I’m 9-years-old.
Dad would get me up, make sure I ate something, ensure I had the right socks, remind me about my shin pads, and get me to the pitch 30 minutes early.
After the game my sweaty, wet, muddy self would jump in the car, but not before dad threw me a towel to get warm and dry.
On the way home, I’d look over at him. Maybe. Maybe today. Every once in a while—but certainly not every week—he’d say, “Want a milkshake?”
Beaming, I’d bounce up and down in my seat. We’d head through the McDonald’s drive thru and order a chocolate shake—it was always chocolate.
I was reminded of this memory on the way home from touch rugby this evening; it’s when I usually call my dad and we chat about what happened in sport over the weekend. Today I got transported me back to those Saturday morning milkshakes.
Before smartphones, but after early mobile phones, there was a period of insane and ludicrous design.
Form was seemingly placed above function at every decision point.
People often say Nokia was killed by Apple and the iPhone. And although I believe that, I’m also convinced Nokia put their foot in it by designing monstrosities.
Imagine a big block of marble.
You’re the sculptor.
With a chisel and a mallet you start your work.
After months of toil, you don’t have much to show for your efforts. You’re disheartened. You question if the vision is attainable or simply a naive dream.
You look at the big block of marble again. This time with conviction. You realise then that the statue is already there.
You pick up your tools, you do the work, you chip away, you follow your plan, and eventually, you reveal what’s in your minds eye.
I re-read Steven Pressfield’s ‘War of Art’ at least once a year. If you feel called to a creative or entrepreneurial endeavour, this book is critical reading.
Each time I pick it up, I run into my notes and highlights from previous readings.
There is magic in the margins.
I’m reminded that my goals are still largely consistent in the years that I’ve been reading this book (my first read was in 2015!). I’m also reminded that my struggles haven’t changed either. I’m buoyed by what progress I’ve made, but also dissatisfied with where I’ve evidently dragged my feet.
The book is a plea to get out of the stands and into the game, and the magic in the margins is a comforting whisper in the ear before running out onto the field.
“Do what you can with what you have. Nothing more is needed, and there are no excuses.”—Rick Rubin
I enjoyed stumbling upon this reminder to be resourceful. There is a huge benefit to setting constraints, making do with what you have, and seeing how far you can go before adding fuel to the fire.
My trusty Brompton—a folding bicycle, and the best two-wheeled transportation machine invented—had a few bolts that were stiff and stubborn.
I lived with it for a bit because it only slowed down my folding and unfolding by a few seconds.
But after a month or so, I got fed up.
On my way home I pulled into a corner shop and picked up a can of WD40 for about £3. Two sprays and my Brompton and its bolts were back to what it was like the day I bought it.
I chuckled. Why did I wait so long to solve the problem when the solution was trivial and easy to implement?
The weight isn’t important.
Muscles don’t do maths.
What matters is the muscle being put under stress, because that’s how we get stronger.
Lessons in the gym are often applicable well outside those four walls.
Did you know every Lego piece has to be able to fit with every other Lego piece ever made?
That’s a frightening quality standard. What this means in practice is variability across all pieces of less than half a thousandths of an inch.
When you make a commitment, and deliver on it without fail for decades, customers will come to trust, respect, and love both your brand and what it stands for.
Lego sets an amazing example.
Some glass broke in our dishwasher this morning. I’ve never had to deal with this before, so I googled what to do. The first three articles all gave me different advice.
One told me to cut a potato and run it around the dishwasher (no joke!) to collect the shards, and then to just run it for one cycle.
Another told me to call a technician immediately because they would need to dismantle the machine and check all filters and crevices.
The final article told me to just use a vacuum cleaner.
There are often many ways to achieve a goal. Many will want to give you their prescription claiming it’s a salve for all situations. Often times, the right pathway forward is taking the signal, triangulating, and charting our own path.
No potato for me; but a vacuum and a rinse cycle without a technician is what I went for.
I just tried the new Iron Man VR game on the Quest Pro. I’ve watched all the films and am a big fan of Robert Downey Jr’s representation of the character—so I was really excited to try the game.
This isn’t a detailed or nuanced review, just a few short notes on things I liked and noticed whilst playing over the weekend.
The flight and fight mechanics are astounding. Iron Man’s palm-based thrusters are activated by pressing the trigger buttons on the controllers. By moving your arms you control your ascent, decent, and forward and backward motion. It’s hard to describe the sensation, but controlling Iron Man from the first person point of view really does feel like you’re flying through a three dimensional space.
Whilst you’re flying you can stretch out your hand and press another button to initiate your blasters and fire at enemy targets. I also love the experience of spawning into a scene where you see the interior outline of Iron Man’s helmet and it peels back to reveal the world around you.
This game makes me excited about the amazing experiences yet to be built in VR. Here’s a trailer for those interested in seeing more.
I’m not a fan of IKEA; I only go when it’s absolutely necessary.
Typically a trip to the blue and yellow monster is the cost for my carelessness with our glasses, plates, and mugs. So the more careful I am, the longer the gap between trips.
The occurred lesson occurred to me today whilst trudging through a jam-packed IKEA: There is a cost to carelessness, and an often unforeseen value to prevention.
If proficiency is a function of talent, principles, and practise, to develop an attention to detail, I invested heavily in the latter two—being detail oriented doesn’t come as second nature to me.
Early in my career, after a few careless mistakes, I learnt to always double check my writing, and triple check my calculations.
It slowed me down at first, but what I gained was a confidence that I could be detail oriented.
More recently I realised a positive side effect of writing this blog is the daily practise of sense checking my thinking and communication. There are benefits to asking myself every day, “Does this make sense? Do I really believe what I’m saying? Is this simple and easy to digest?”
We end up becoming what we practise each day.
The first voice likely says, “Don’t do it. Take the safe road. Do the easy thing.”
The second voice, which closely follows the first, says, “Do it. It’ll be good for you. You’ll grow. You be better for it.”
The voice order rarely changes. Don’t give one voice more of a say just because it spoke first.
No matter how much money you spend on product development, on branding, on consumer taste tests, and on marketing, it all falls a bit flat if you forget to spellcheck.
I saw this Pringles advertisement at my subway stop.
Apparently Pringles got roasted for their mistake on Twitter, and to their credit responded excellently. I saw this poster at the next subway stop.
