Usability

This is an object lesson in how not to lay out a screen.

Background: While configuring a Linux PC, I found myself setting up Ubuntu One, Canonical’s cloud sync service. After I entered the confirmation code I received via email, I was taken to this screen.

My first reaction: Blargh! Where do I look first? What do I do?

Let’s break it down:

  1. None of the calls-to-action appear to be primary. Nothing screams “Start here! Click me first!” The most visually prominent calls just sort of step on each other.
  2. The layout is an eye-hurt. No really. I’m not exaggerating, it /actually/ hurts my eyes. I can’t recall the last time a screen layout actually made me go cross-eyed. Little thought seems to have been given to aligning the controls, text and links. I don’t mean to be too snarky…but it looks like the UI fairy barfed up links and controls onto the screen.
  3. When I was a wee UX lad, mama always told me “If you can’t choose one font size, might as well use them all.” Unfortunately, mama was wrong. On this screen it’s disorienting. It adds to the difficulty users will experience trying to find a “start here” call-to-action.
  4. Screenshots are helpful…in theory. But they have to illustrate something helpful to the user. This one falls short. The detail is too small to be of use. It just causes eyestrain. Or maybe I’m just getting old, and you youngsters have no problem with it. Well good for you. And get off my lawn.

I know I’ve ranked on Linux in the past, so I readily admit that Canonical has made great strides creating a better user experience for desktop Linux. Ubuntu 11.10 is by far the most usable Ubuntu release ever, and Ubuntu has always stood above other distros in ease of install, configuration and initial/ongoing use. But like any app or OS that comes from a legacy of “built by geeks for geeks”, there will always be areas of the user experience that don’t get the UX love and attention they deserve. This screen – even though it was probably created for more recent distributions – reminds us of Linux’s geeky origins.

One last thing, and this is a completely preference-driven personal peccadillo of mine…bevel-lowered grouping boxes must die. Hate ‘em. They’re /so/ Windows 3.11…

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This is an impromptu video of me interacting with the Google+ “add people to circles” feature.

Like most things we interact with in the world, there’s some good and some not-so-good to the experience.

First, the good:
1. The people “cards” are just the right size. The picture is just right also – big enough so I can recognize the person, small enough to fit their name.
2. It was also a smart idea to just show the target’s name (or email if the name is unavailable). It makes for easier and quicker scanning and target acquisition.
3. The whole card is a click target.
4. You can select multiple cards with clicks; no CMD+ or shift+click necessary. However, using a key combination (which some people will carry over from the desktop software interaction paradigm) works just fine as well.

The not-so-good:
1. Drag and drop appears to be the only way to get people into circles. Really? Given Google’s demonstrated commitment to accessibility, I *can’t* believe this is the only way to manage circle assignment. I must be missing something. That just can’t be.
2. A few times I highlighted multiple cards and then inadvertently deselected them. I have no idea why or how.
3. Believe it or not, on first view I thought Google+ had only found 28 (7 x 4) people I knew. It took more time than it should’ve to realize that the card area was scrollable. I might not be able to pin that on Google however. I used Safari on Mac OS X 10.7, which together are a walking advertisement for iOS disappearing scrollbars.

So what does this little spiel demonstrate? I guess it shows that even cutting-edge design with massive resources behind it can still occasionally be a struggle for users. Oh, and don’t forget the accessibility.

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(Note: Here’s another guest post from Andreas Bossard, proprietor of the blog News of the Future and author of several excellent UsabilityBlog posts. Today he talks about his travails with the Paypal help system. Enjoy. -Paul)

I wanted to get help in Paypal, that’s why I clicked on “Help” and expected to see the help section of Paypal.
Instead I saw the following:

Cannot access the Paypal help section

All that I read when scanning through the page is:

Help information isn’t available in English yet. […] select U.S. English.

So I need to change the language to U.S. English. Okay, I try to remember all the steps that they tell me, go through them and reach this page:

Paypal: How to select U.S. English?

Hmm. I cannot see U.S. English. How to select U.S. English now? I think I will contact the Help Center. …But wait a minute… I could not access the help pages, that’s why I came to this page in the first place. I’m trapped in a can-not-get-help-loop. *argh*

Note: If I select German, then the help center is shown! But if I was an English speaker I would not be able to get help. I think this bug exists only for Swiss users, otherwise it would be fixed since a long time.

What to learn from this mistake by Paypal:

  • Let me select the language for the help pages directly
  • Or give me a direct link
  • But no lengthy instructions please

When I clicked the help link, I need help immediately!

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Here’s the thing about LingsCars.com: It works.

Yes, it’s ugly as sin, an affront to the design sensibilities of practically everyone.

And this picture doesn’t do it justice. Go to the site, you need to see the seizure-inducing blinky-blinky.

But it works. It really does.

Let’s unpack that a bit. What do I mean when I say it works?

It’s simple. The site fulfills the goals of the business, which I’m guessing are:

  1. To lease cars to customers.
  2. To create a memorable experience and make Ling’s Cars top-of-mind for UK people who want to lease an auto.

By those simple measures, the site is learnable, memorable, usable, and creates a unique brand experience to boot. (No, that is not a pun on the UK’s use of boot for trunk.)

Go ahead. Check it out for yourself. And give yourself these “typical” usability test goals, just to prove my point about the usability of LingsCars.com:

  1. Go find the link that takes you to Ling’s cheapest leasing deals.
  2. You want to ask Ling’s Cars a question. Can you chat online with someone at Ling’s cars? Find a way to do that.
  3. You want to lease a Volvo automobile, but aren’t sure which one you want. What does Ling offer?
  4. You’d like to see what the lease prices are for every one of Ling’s autos. Find a way to look at all the prices together in one place.

And here’s the kicker: I’ve established that it’s somewhat usable. Now, is it memorable? You bet it is. Admit it – the memory of the first time you saw lingscars.com is burned into your synapses. Psychologists call this “flashbulb memory” – memories that are so strong, you remember where you were, what you were doing, and a host of little details associated with the memory.

Granted, your flashbulb memory of Ling’s Cars is probably of the Kennedy assassination, Challenger explosion, or 9/11 variety. But still, I guarantee that you won’t soon forget about Ling’s Cars.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m actually experiencing prodromal migraine symptoms just having Ling’s site in my peripheral vision. I’m not defending the so-bad-it’s-good design in and of itself. What I’m saying is that even the worst design can serve its organization’s goals. It’s a high-risk strategy, yes. But does it work in Ling’s case? I think it does.

Update: A commenter below points out that the site doesn’t exactly fill you with warm fuzzies about the reputation of Ling’s Cars. That is, it doesn’t score points in the professionalism and trust categories.

I would argue that certain businesses need that more than others. If (like me) you grew up in the 70′s and 80′s in the NYC area, you probably remember those Crazy Eddie’s commercials. “Crazy Eddie’s! Our prices are so low, it’s insane!” And of course the pitchman jumped around like a lunatic. They didn’t come across as a staid and somber corporate entity. But they didn’t need to. They were differentiating on price. For electronics, that’s frequently the deciding factor.

Is it the same with car leasing in the UK? I have no idea. But I suspect that Ling is indeed trying to differentiate on price – notice the frequent references to “low prices” on the site. And do you need to build a staid and somber site to trumpet your price differentiation? Probably not. In fact, one could make the argument that the site actually *supports* the price differentiation claim thusly:

Ling’s Cars…our prices are so low, we don’t even bother spending a lot of money on our site…we just home-build it so we can keep our prices low.

Maybe that’s a stretch. Thoughts?

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Old-school readers of UsabilityBlog may remember my (ranty but well-reasoned) diatribe against EULA’s and how they’re presented in software user interfaces. (Also check out my follow-up posts here and here.)

This picture I took the other day  reminded me how easy it is to corrupt and degrade the user experience with obtuse and unfriendly language.

In this case, I was at the bank setting up an account. The rep handed me the account agreement, and then told me that the bank didn’t require me to sign the actual forms anymore; they’d recently begun collecting signatures electronically. I have to admit that bothered me a bit, because my “electronic” signature looks nothing like my pen and ink signature.

Putting that aside, the experience of providing my signature on the device was not good.

The face of the device I needed to “write” on was raised about 4-5 inches, and there was no way to comfortably position my hand while signing. The bezel was not flush with the screen, which caused the edge of my hand to bend in an unnatural way,  further deforming my signature.

And then there was the lawyerly language. We’ve all had the intimidating and negative experience of viewing a legal document in paper form. I don’t think a single person will dispute the fact that legalese is intimidating and obtuse. Not surprisingly, that experience is intensified when rendered digitally. And then there’s the ridiculous aspect of referring to something “herein”, which applies to a document, but certainly not to anything “in” the UI of the device I was interacting with.

And no, the full agreement was not presented onscreen for me to page through. The rep simply handed me the written agreement, then slid this device across the desk for me to “sign.”

The various user experience disciplines – usability, information architecture, interaction design, etc. – have been laboring for the 20-odd years of the tech boom to create great user experiences. Let’s not let the lawyers screw it up.

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