Re-Thinking and Re-Designing Business Strategy
It’s probably my own particular bias that I thought that the panel with Jeanne Liedtka and Tony Golsby-Smith, moderated by Roger Martin, was the highlight of the conference. But the session really stood out for me as one of the most spirited and serious conversations of the two days. All three of them put forth a thesis and then used the conversation to back up their claims. While Tony, Roger and Jeanne were pretty much on the same page about the centrality of design thinking to strategy, each of them had a unique perspective on why that is, and how design can begin to play a stronger role in the strategy space.

Jeanne Liedtka: “Strategy is the most important thing a leader can be doing.” “But if you’re not trying to make tomorrow better than today, why bother doing strategy?” Jeanne talked about her frustration with business managers who are not looking at strategy as an opportunity to invent the future of their organizations. The problem is that the customary strategic processes involve spreadsheets and numeric projections and organizational culture is programmed to seek out certainty over possibility; visionary leadership must step outside that mindset to look for opportunity.

In her research, Jeanne has observed that there are innovative managers out there who grow their businesses despite their organizations’ tendency to crush creative thinking. It’s the entrepreneurial spirit of design that links it so strongly to strategy. Designers excel at finding ways to create new value. But, Jeanne also cautioned us that invention and value creation is not end game. She noted that value itself is an inconsistent principle, because value creation and value capture are two distinct components, and successful innovation requires both. It is not enough simply to create value; we must also invent the business models that allow us to capture that value.

Tony Golsby-Smith: Strategy is about thinking and conversation; not timetables and templates. In the business world, strategy is routinely suffocated under the budgetary process, and organizations fail to create space for vision. The thinking process is shrouded in analytics, yet we’ve never moved an inch into the future by analyzing. Tony then explained of Aristotle’s two roads of thought, Analytics (which dominates Western thinking, and propels management science) and Rhetoric/Dialectic (which is the domain of design and leadership and is the art to analytics’ science). The second road (Rhetoric/Dialectic) introduces values, where the first road is objective. Therefore the second road is better equipped to respond to human problems and gives us a toolkit for creating visions for the future.

Roger Martin: In 1959 the Ford Foundation said that business schools were not analytic enough, and we’ve been glorifying the hegemony of analytics ever since.

Jeanne Liedtka: Jeanne expressed skepticism about large organizations enthusiastically undertaking innovation, noting that, “innovation will continue to be a subversive activity.” Roger Martin responded that, “the subversive activity is to turn the future into the past.” (This prompted me to think that this would be a very interesting essay for the two of them to write.)

Jeanne called up the fixed mindset and learning mindset models researched by Carol Dweck at Stanford. Business thinking is predominated by the fixed mindset, people who are often driven by a fear of failure and of looking stupid. Innovators and design thinkers are more likely to be of the learning mindset, people characterized by actively seeking broad repertoires of experience and who are willing to take risks.

However, Jeanne suggested that these two mindsets can be brought together in the context of the organization through design. The hypothesis generation and testing that is inherent to design approaches is very effective for reducing corporate fear. And the way to succeed, to innovate, is to experiment in the marketplace.

Tony Golsby-Smith: Tony proposed the notion of the dialectic organization, one that is both analytical and rhetorical, capable of using both of Aristotle’s roads of thinking. While analytical thinking is an undeniably critical part of managing an organization well, leadership, decision-making, and innovation are inherently 2nd road activities. (Tony warned us not to make innovation alone the holy grail.)

Roger Martin: Roger added that everyone in the organization should be involved in making choices and determining the future, and therefore rhetorical thinking should not be limited to the province of leaders only.

Bringing Design Thinking to the Analytical World
(or, If Innovation is Subversive, Then Strategy is Heresy)

The second session of Day 2 was presented as a second, deeper conversation with Tony-Golsby Smith. Where the first session explored why there is such a strong relationship between design and strategy, this session would look more into how design might engage with strategy. What hope is there for the design community and the world of organizations to move on from fear and cynicism and to address the big challenges of the future? Tony began by telling us he wanted to be provocative, suggesting that “design is the divine expression of the human condition” and that “strategy is heresy”. Well, that certainly prepared us for a different kind of conversation!

Darrel Rhea asked Tony what were the opportunities or threats for our role as designers? Tony’s reply was that the view of design as craft was too limited to address the problems we’re talking about, that design thinking provides an opportunity for design to move into broader applications. In looking at the bigger, more wicked problems that design is seeking to address, Tony suggested that design becomes an activity of transforming situations (from John Dewey’s conception of “situations”). Changing the world, he said, is not an illegitimate goal. But he noted that we don’t work on the world directly. We work on the world through the system of language.

The case for language: People who can transform situations are very good at language. Conversations themselves are an act of co-creation. And yet language is not the same as communication. In the sense that Tony was speaking, language is thinking, language is the synthesis of the pictures we form in our heads, and language has the capacity to change others’ thinking. The organization itself is a mental construct. No one has ever seen one. Change and design, he said, are a language game. And language is the only tool for leadership.

Tony went on to describe three themes of language: agency (people change the world, not data), synthesis (how we model situations), and conversations (human beings creating shared meaning). In mastering language, Tony suggested that designers have the opportunity to shift their stance from helper/supporter to driver. It is language that allows us to get to strategy as design. But Tony warned that we shouldn’t see language as an activity of abstraction. Design is a physical act, and it is born of the need to make the abstract tangible.

Design & Organizational Transformation
Bill Buxton of Microsoft Research and Claudia Kotchka, formerly of Procter & Gamble, talked about the challenge of bringing design into organizations and how to transform those organizations into design organizations. Bill noted the attraction for designers to work in what otherwise might be considered a hostile environment: if you are successful in this context, you have the ability to impact 1 billion people a day. Claudia talked about the challenge of attracting designers to a company like P&G, and then creating a multicultural organization where different cultures are valued and respected. Both Claudia and Bill agreed that designers have a specialized skillset that makes them different from businesspeople and engineers. Creating tolerance for design culture is not the same thing as doing good design. Bill noted that it was crucial to create a pull, not a push, process, where engineers were actively and enthusiastically inviting designers to the table.

Client/Designer Relationships
Robert Brunner of innovation firm Ammunition LLC presented a provocative story about shifting the paradigm of client/designer relationships. He discussed the importance of being able to work as a partner with your client, and what better way to do so than to share a stake in the outcomes? His company has turned the process around, so that they develop product concepts that interest them and where they see significant market potential, and then they approach clients as partners in IP ownership. In effect, they fully develop the product and then find a client who wants to take their product to market. A fascinating and empowering model, and one that I’m surprised more design firms don’t use.

Business
Roger Martin’s conversation with Scott Cook, co-founder and chairman of Intuit, seemed to be one of the most-enjoyed sessions of the conference. Scott was engaging and low-key during an exchange where he shared stories and wisdom from his twenty-some years of leadership at Intuit. He advised the audience to “run a culture of experimentation” and “allow space for development without managers hanging over projects.” He said he encouraged businesses not to stop at the first idea, which is what they typically do. He discussed management practices, such as bringing out people’s weaknesses as something they can actively work on in a supportive environment. And he talked about the importance of integrating design practices into everything the business does, such as making sure business people get out and do ethnography themselves and become part of the process of identifying and solving problems.

Environmental Design
Two consultants, Deanne Beckwith, who works with Herman Miller’s Programmable Environments Team, and Chauncey Bell, who works with CareCyte, a healthcare delivery innovation group, talked with Darrel Rhea about undertaking projects with significant social innovation potential and the challenges of the bigger systems they are designing within. They each shared what was effectively a case study about their projects. In a nutshell, Chauncey noted that services are the biggest design problem our society currently faces; in looking at how the design of medical facilities can drastically shift the cost equation for the delivery of health care, he reminded us that controlling health care costs was a problem we as a society haven’t even begun to understand, let alone solve. Deanne echoed this, insisting that addressing critical problems like sustainability demands not just designing new things, but new business models.

My initial reflections on the DMI Conference can be read on the post “Thoughts on the Design Management Institute’s 2009 Conference “Re-Thinking Design”".

All these people have been really crucial to the evolution of my thinking and practice of design over that past 5 years or so, so even though I’m not usually much of a conference maven, I realized that it might be pretty fun to be where these people were gathering in the same room.

The organizers chose a different format from the typical parade of slideshows. Instead, the speakers were invited to participate in panel discussions (only two speakers gave slide presentations). DMI President Tom Lockwood described it as “thoughtful conversations with thoughtful people—a process of rethinking design live”. Overall, this format gave a pleasant informality to the proceedings, but I have to admit that at times it had a bit less structure and depth than I might have liked.

I totally agree that no one likes to sit through hours of narrated slide presentations that usually amount to the latest version of a presentation that the speaker is using to promote their business or book. But I do like conferences that force their speakers to put themselves out there a bit, with a bold argument or a new concept. We did get some of this, as Robert Brunner of Ammunition LLC put forward a new business model for design, which involves doing away with clients. Or rather, becoming your own client. Also, Tony Golsby-Smith invited all of us to take thinking more seriously and promoted language as the skillset designers need to master if they want to be able to influence the big problems.

There was a strong representation from the business world as well as design leaders, but many of the attendees were designers who worked in large corporations. I would have liked to see some stronger representation from some of the design schools, too. On the whole, the range of topics was varied, and spoke to the different types of audience members—designers, managers, leaders, and consultants. I wear many of those hats, and I knew it would be a lot of “preaching to the choir” for me. I guess my biggest criticism was that I didn’t feel like the conference challenged my thinking significantly. But it does seem like professional conferences like this are more about finding common ground and sharing experiences in a convivial environment.

The running commentary by the moderators was what really held the sessions together and I appreciated their efforts to reflect on the proceedings as we went along.

On the first day of the conference, Roger Martin noted how enthusiastically business was beginning to embrace design. Darryl Rhea later suggested that the reverse was not necessarily true of design; that designers were generally too cowed by business matters; that design is afraid that it doesn’t know enough about the world of MBAs to make an impact and lets that fear of the unknown keep us out of the conversation. Designers always talk a lot about wanting to have a seat at the table. But I think Rhea’s point is that we don’t get to that table by sitting back and waiting to be asked. (Jeanne Liedtka noted, conversely, that the “table” is overrated, and that a lot of the truly important stuff happens out in the organization.) Several speakers over both days echoed the claim that we have a responsibility to learn the language of business, the language of our clients, of those we are collaborating with.

Rhea noted on Day 2 that one of the conference attendees had asked him “Why is it that the CEO from the accounting products company was more persuasive, more passionate about design—more articulate about design—than the heads of IDEO, Ziba and Adaptive Path?” I agree with that observation. I’m not sure why that was. Perhaps designers feel that they are going into alien territory when it comes to strategy, and so they adopt an unconsciously defensive or wary stance, rather than one of confidence and optimism. In any case, many of the design voices I heard over the two days were both cautious and cynical about design’s opportunity space in the business strategy world. But then, perhaps we designers don’t have the best perspective on design, because we don’t always have the opportunity to pull back and look at the impact and potential of our work from an organizational or societal perspective. We only see ourselves at ground level, where we are making and doing, and we may feel compelled to microscope, rather than telescope, the context of our work.

More thoughts on the conference can be read on the post “Some Highlights from the DMI Re-Thinking Design Conference”.

But the book is also an excellent rumination on the power of Design. Chicago won the world’s fair in 1890 (beating out NYC, Washington DC and St. Louis), just three years before the fair was set to open. Once Chicago was chosen as a venue, a local citizens’ committee of 250 prominent men was created to help steer and promote the fair, and the city formed a corporation with a 45-member Board to finance and build the fair.

The Board appointed a local architect named Daniel Burnham to lead the project. In essence he would become the principal and lead designer (as well as project manager). As you would expect, local politics immediately began to enter the equation as the groups became embroiled in arguments about exactly where in Chicago the fair should happen. By the time Burnham got the go-ahead to begin planning the chosen site, there was less than 2 years left to go about building a world’s fair from scratch. Sound like any design projects you’ve ever worked on?

Too much was at stake in Burnham’s career for him to decline the challenge, though I suspect many of us would have given up in the face of such a seemingly insurmountable task. Ambitiously, Burnham solicited a team of some of the top US architects of the day, a group of East Coasters who were quite dubious about helping podunk Chicago put together a world class project. He assembled his reluctant lean design team, eventually winning them over using the pivotal support of landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead, who had designed Central Park and many other significant public commissions.

The entire team was, frankly, freaked out by the seeming impossibility of the deadline before them, an absurdly short span of time in which to design, engineer and build a fair expected to host 27 million people over its 6 month lifespan and out-do the French, who had put on a smashing world fair in 1889 with the show-stealing Eiffel Tower as it’s coup de grâce.

The team rallied and put together a plan for 6 majestic main buildings and an overall landscape, which would be further populated by another 200 or so smaller buildings covering a square mile. But the designs came in behind schedule, pushing construction perilously close to the deadline. And throughout the project, Burnham and his team continued to face many barriers and slowdowns caused by the myriad of committees and stakeholders representing local, national and international interests. In the end, the fair went up, and had considerable success, but not without many cracks behind the veneer and a tremendous risk of outright failure. (The Ferris Wheel, the fair’s crowning glory and answer to Paris’ Eiffel, was not completed until 2 months after the fair opened.)

I provide this outline in order to illustrate an important and integral aspect of design work that is so commonly overlooked. Despite having a dream design team, this was not enough to ensure the project’s success. Yes, the design of individual buildings themselves were works of art, but they almost didn’t get built because there was not time or resource to commandeer the various people, systems and decisions that needed to be in place from the very beginning. What makes Devil in the White City such a good read is the suspenseful incredulity that this project ever successfully came together.

For me it is a strong fable of the importance of managing stakeholders well—or the risk of not doing so. The communication to and involvement of stakeholders is a sticky issue for designers. Stakeholder input is almost something of a cliché, in the sense that we all know this is something we need to solicit and nurture, and yet we often dread and avoid it, as Burnham did. How do we get what we need from stakeholders (and give them their due) without being burdended by the baggage of any number of outside groups and individuals?

I think that part of the problem is that “stakeholders” are frequently treated by designers as a secondary concern for a design project, or at worst, an afterthought. There’s often such a strong sense of urgency around the immediate design problem, that we feel that we don’t have the time to get bogged down by what we might see as inexpert or even adversarial input, as was the case for Burnham and his team. All we know is how much faster the work could get done if meddling busybodies kept their noses out of the plans.

Certainly, I think Burnham and his architects worried intensely about their ability to pull off a feat of technical ingenuity and aesthetic brilliance, even without the hovering presence of stakeholders. But the thing is, the stakeholders were the reason the project started out so challenged by scheduling and resources. If anything, Burnham probably didn’t do enough to manage stakeholder expectations and demand appropriate involvement and accountability from them. But he had a lot to prove, and felt his reputation was at stake if he didn’t miraculously succeed in the challenge. How many of us, unfortunately, have found ourselves backed into a similar corner, with a mandate for innovation under severely limited time and budget?

Burnham’s biggest fear about his stakeholders was the threat of descending into “design by committee”-type dynamics, which are sure to kill any coherent vision. And yet, when and how do we involve stakeholders productively? Up-front conversations with a full range of stakeholders can actually help the designer to better understand and scope the problem. While contemporary designers often ascribe to the mantra of user-centered design, we often fail to see stakeholders as an important user group. They may not be direct users or consumers of the system being designed, but there’s no way a really big project will ever get off the ground without the support and endorsement of stakeholders. They have the power to save or doom a project, and stakeholder legacies can overshadow and outlast a design, no matter how brilliant the solution is.

Inviting stakeholders to every single meeting is clearly not helpful. But involving them early on, to help shape the vision, is important and powerful for both designers and stakeholders. In Burnham’s case, the design team was so much flying by the seat of their pants that the vision was almost continuously emergent, until the very moment the fair opened. And in truth, his stakeholders offered Burnham a lot of faith and forbearance—probably far more than contemporary designers would be accorded in a project of that scale. That’s why it’s critical to manage the designer-stakeholder dynamic proactively.

Burnham’s Columbian Exposition is a good example of the challenges that  designers face in large projects. The bigger and more important a project is, the more a designer’s work is going to extend beyond the boundaries of the design task itself. Design gets broadened to a much larger activity, one that must include constant communication, persuasion, and consensus-building. Out of either naivete or stubborn arrogance, Burnham was slow to catch on to this. And it could have spelt failure for his project. I suspect that these types of stakeholder-related failures are really common, but are not failures designers like to talk about. Maybe because many designers see the “stakeholder” problem as being outside the realm of their control, or maybe because the ramifications of poor stakeholder invovlement aren’t felt until several months or even years after the project is completed. After all, the larger the scale and the greater the importance of a design project, the more likely there are to be vast numbers of stakeholders involved.

Photo credit: William Henry Jackson / Chicago Historical Society.

Unique for the sake of uniqueness is even more typical in design schools. As is often the case, you have many capable and creative students working towards a common design problem—perhaps even the same one that a series of previous semesters’ students tackled as well. How is it possible to stand out in a crowd when most approaches to the problem have been touched on, if not delved into to a ridiculous degree? The honest answer is, you can’t. But what is lost in the pursuit of one-upping the competition so to speak, is the lesson that being novel isn’t necessarily a goal in good design. I’m not advocating that designers not attempt to build remarkable and unusual solutions to design problems, because they often will be required to. However, the imperative for new approaches should be driven by research into the needs of the users, and not merely an abstract sense of differentiation. It just may be that the solution that will most address the design problem will not be one that breaks convention and will more likely build on typical or past solutions. Any designer worth their salt will explore the potential of all avenues, including both conservative and innovative approaches.

But designers are encouraged and praised by their peers and professors for originality—sometimes over and above the fit for purpose. And that is a shame. Often times the most elegant solution will be the simplest and easiest to implement. It won’t require a new model or experience map for the user. New technologies won’t need to be created and organisational structures can remain relatively untouched. But those kinds of solutions are un-sexy and seem to show a complete lack of the “creative” skills designers are known for and so proud of. And it isn’t just in school that designers are encouraged to put avant-garde ideas ahead of practical ones. Design firms, design publications, and other designers often admire and praise those who are breaking ground (or “shifting paradigms”) over those who are simply getting things done. To be sure, this isn’t a rampant problem in the real world, but it is enough of an issue that the design industry should be more self policing.

As an example of our lack of enthusiasm for relevant design, we celebrate the Ferrari but have disdain for the Corolla (which, with over 35 million cars manufactured to date, is the best selling car of all time). Of course there is a place for high end sports cars, and Ferrari’s are wonderful examples of form vs. function. But the Corolla was just as effective a design solution, and had a positive effect on an exponentially greater group of people. Why celebrate the design of the Enzo as a higher form of achievement? Because it is sexy and sexy design is rewarding to the aesthetic sensibility and our egos. That’s a really poor aspiration to be encouraging in designers, in my opinion. If you are designing a million dollar sports car, you can play all you want. If you are designing the next “peoples car” you have to consider the cost of manufacturing, economy of materials, localization, usability across a range of needs, longevity, sustainability, ease of repair, customization, and a host of other issue that likely will not be focused on “make it fast and make it pretty”.

But it would be duplicitous of me to put the blame for this only on peer pressure and design school dynamics. Most businesses are not set up to let designers participate in the complete life of a product or service they develop. This is usually seen as an efficiency of skills within an organization (designers design and operations manage). The reality is that it doesn’t allow for the needed experience on seeing what works and what fails. This kind of experience is what builds the judgments necessary for understanding the best solution; novel or otherwise. Perhaps part of the problem is that while designers are correctly taught to take a design past its current limits, most design students are not taught how to elegantly bring the design back to conform with the constraints imposed. In school, students are allowed and even encouraged to leave their solutions “out there”. Or they are taught that it’s OK to sacrifice one or more criteria, so that you begin moving away from a complete solution in favor of a novel one.

Students typically don’t get to see the effect of their ideas in the real world and are not challenged to anticipate them either. As a design manager I’ve seen plenty of portfolios from outstanding graduates who are oblivious to the limits of their work. Why wouldn’t they be? Who has taken the time to challenge them? The better designers quickly begin to understand how to work in the real world, but it is difficult to break the new graduate’s habit of designing to their own sense of “cool” rather than focusing more on the best solution. And that’s assuming their boss, manager, mentor is helping them make that transition. Of course on the flip side, in a business setting, simple and elegant solutions often look deceptively easy to reach, which makes it hard for designers to command value for what they do. A complicated solution is perhaps more likely to be respected as an extension of rarified knowledge, whereas a simple solution might be merely regarded as the product of common sense that anyone could have produced.

Final thoughts:

I’d like to reemphasize that I am not advocating that designers avoid pushing boundaries, conventions, or the status quo. In fact, the opposite is true. The best advances in technology, products, and services have come from truly original thinking. The important lesson that has been inadvertently lost in this process of creating great ideas is the need to make appropriate judgments and not strive for original and unique just for the sake of novelty. When designers play and explore as extensively as they can, it only helps to build their repertoire of solutions to a problem. Great judgment allows them the ability to focus on the idea(s) that are best suited to the problem—even if those ideas seem unexciting. The strong designer knows when to leave the wondrous stuff on the drafting table and when to pursue it with vigor.

We do ourselves a great disservice by not catching our own hubris early in the process and verify that we’ve not made something more complex or unusable than we could have just to be novel. To continue broadening the scope of design into other areas such as business management, social services, and service design, the desire to be unique needs to be tempered with the drive to be relevant.

Photo credit: Design and Punishment, by Ben Cunningham, from the Arts Institute at Bournemouth’s 2007 Three Dimensional Design graduate directory.

The rising cost of gas for automobiles has kicked-started the development of electric and hybrid cars out of the realm of niche and into mainstream, albeit early adopter mainstream. BMW just announced a new electric version of their MINI and Tesla Motors has just released their high-end electric sports car. While this is certainly good for helping to move energy consumption away from specifically using fossil fuels (electric cars can get their power from wind, solar, geothermal, nuclear, or other non-crude based supplies), there is another opportunity that waits in the wings:

The return of the boutique coachbuilder.

Over the last century, the breadth of coachbuilders designing the bodies for the chassis of other car manufacturers has waned to the point of being rather exotic. To be sure, companies such as Ghia and Pininfarina still do their thing, but we don’t see novel designs like the Karmann Ghias anymore. The advent of unibody construction has made custom coachbuilding practically impossible¹.

With the advent of electric motors and drive systems comes the potential for car manufacturers to go back to the days when a chassis was sold as-is. Coachworks would then build their own unique body on top of a standard base. Will the simplified electric car allow a new industry of coach manufactures and body shops cater to smaller groups of car buyers? I hope so.

Currently, Tesla Motors is beginning to sell their new electric sports car that will be sure to turn heads. And why shouldn’t it? The body is based off of a Lotus Elise, after Lotus won the design contest for the bodywork. This is a prime example of one company focusing on the motor (a complex and challenging design problem in an of itself) and another focusing on the more visual and tangible experience.

As we speak, both Ford and GM and struggling for relevance in a world that passed them by three decades ago. Is this their opportunity to turn their manufacturing ability into creating inexpensive and easily produced and maintained chassis? Dealerships could potentially partner with as many coachbuilders that they wanted to offer customers actual choice in the vehicle they drove.

I hope that the change to focus on electric motor vehicles is also an opportunity for a move back to more players in the actual design and production of auto styling. The competition and diversity would promote an amazing influx of creativity in an industry that has become, frankly, quite pedestrian. And focusing on creating chassis would allow Ford, GM, and their ilk a graceful way to move on from an industry that they helped devolve into so much cruft to one where their engineering expertise can push electric chassis development with more efficient and cost effective technologies.

¹ Wikipedia, Coachbuilders
Photo: BMW MINI, egmcartech.com

I’ve recently been experiencing the acquisition of a new set of hearing aids, two Widex Inteos. I had my previous hearing aid (Oticon Adapto) for about 5-6 years, and it was conking out on me, sputtering from repair to repair. I finally made the decision to go for hearing aids in both ears (binaural), which has been long recommended to me by audiologists. I understood the argument behind it very well, in that your ears and brain are designed to hear in stereo, and so trying to get amplification through just one ear was providing a lot less improvement than I could be getting. The benefit of two aids over one is supposed to be an exponential improvement.

But as a longtime user of hearing aids, I want to make a few observations about what I see as the significant obstacles to getting, using, and enjoying the benefit of hearing aids. These are the barriers that made me wait a lot longer than I should have to get a hearing aid in the first place, and have prevented me from trying two aids until now.

First, there’s the cost/investment side. Hearing aids, particularly the new digital technologies, are extremely expensive. The type that my hearing loss requires usually run in the neighborhood of $2,500-3,000. Each. Multiply that times two, and you’re talking about wearing an enormous sum in delicate electronic devices on your head (which are subject to damage or breakage from dropping or getting caught on something, getting wet, or being exposed to radiation or chemicals.) In short, the value of a mid-range Rolex, with none of the durability. And the standard hearing aid is not expected to have a shelf life beyond 5 years. That’s an investment of $100 a month, if you’re lucky enough not to break or lose one during that time. And no, health insurance does not cover hearing aids and the warranties typically cover only the first 1-2 years. Therefore, there is a strong financial consideration to be made between making do with just one hearing aid, or splurging on two.

Second, there is the appearance/design factor. I’ve been wearing hearing aids since I started college. I have been hard of hearing my whole life, but I had learned enough coping strategies as a child, like lipreading and defaulting to writing and pictures whenever possible, that I was able to compensate fairly well through my school years with the help of teachers and friends. That changed when I went out into the larger world, away from home and familiar surroundings. The primary thing that kept me from taking advantage of a hearing aid before that is the stigma associated to how ugly and strange these devices look. As a hard of hearing person, you already feel like an outsider. As a kid, I was terrified by the idea of drawing more attention to my disability (as I’m sure most hard-of-hearing children and adults are).

The stigma of wearing a medical device (even one as small as a hearing aid) is significant. Wearing one is bad enough. Two always seemed over the top for me. For a long time, hearing aids have been ugly, ugly, ugly. You know this is true because all of the marketing features pictures of happy people and beautiful landscapes—it never features images of the actual product on a human wearer. It seems that no matter how high-tech these devices become, the engineers see fit to make them look as clinical and awkward as possible for the wearer. Sure, they are getting gradually smaller (I remember the pocket-sized unit my great-uncle wore wired up to an earpiece). But one thing I don’t understand why the industry clings to the paradigm of the prosthesis. A hearing aid isn’t replacing an ear or any other body part, and yet it’s made of awkward, icky-looking skin-toned plastic. Ten years ago I remember looking in the window at a Bang & Olufsen store in Boston at the beautiful and tiny stainless steel headsets and wondering why my hearing aid couldn’t look like that.

When bluetooth and the iPod arrived, and suddenly everyone seemed to have a hip gadget hanging from their ears, there were really no more excuses for the hearing aid manufacturers and their complete disdain for the styling of their products. And so things have progressed in recent years with the introduction of the Oticon Delta [see left], a cute little triangular BTE (Behind The Ear) aid that came on the market in 2006 and comes in a wide choice of colors and patterns, primarily aimed towards the growing market of hard-of-hearing boomers. (Alas, this great-looking aid does not suit my type of hearing loss.) The success of the Delta, along with the iPod, seems to have emboldened manufacturers to pay a little more attention to the appearance of their products, but they are still far too conservative in considering the importance of good design. Who says a hearing aid can’t look cool?

Third, the distribution side of the industry sucks. It’s not that they aren’t developing good technology, but the way that hearing aids are delivered to the market leaves a great deal to be desired. The manufacturers would defend themselves by saying that they are hampered by the excessive regulation that exists around the sale of medical devices. This is not untrue, but it seems obvious, from the lack of information available from the manufacturers about their products, that they also benefit a great deal by the restricted channels available to consumers. It’s near impossible to be an educated consumer when it comes to hearing aids. Choice is practically nonexistent. I challenge you to try to price different models against one another, feature-for-feature, based on what you can find online. It’s all very mysterious.

It’s the law that you have to have a hearing aid prescribed (or “dispensed”) by a trained audiologist. This is to prevent people getting the wrong type of hearing aid, or failing to have it fitted correctly. This is fine. It works the same way that getting glasses requires at least an optometrist’s, if not an ophthalmologist’s, prescription. The problem is that most audiologists tend to be affiliated with just one or two manufacturers. It’s as though you went shopping for eyeglass frames and had to choose between two styles. I’ve never understood why this is, because you’d think that a successful audiologist would want to have a full range of technology and brands to recommend to patients. I’m told that this is because many manufacturers offer such similar products, that there is redundancy in offering multiple brands, and also that each manufacturer requires the audiologist to acquire and learn its own proprietary programming software, and this becomes a burden.

Usually it is impossible to know ahead of time which manufacturer an audiologist represents. You pay an audiologist to produce an audiogram, which then helps to determine the type of hearing aid best suited to your hearing loss. But if you try to take one audiologist’s audiogram to another audiologist, they typically won’t accept it, and will insist on doing their own test. So forget about shopping around.

So it’s left a bit up to chance whether you end up with an audiologist who can or will recommend the hearing aid you would choose, if you had all the information yourself. Yes, they are trained professionals who’s interest is in getting you the right aid, but sometimes you wonder if they aren’t just meeting some kind of quota for a particular model or manufacturer. It doesn’t help that hearing aids are a bit like car models, and each year, manufacturers introduce tiny tweaks to the features of existing models, so you never feel like you can compare apples to apples.

Oticon Adapto and Widex Inteo, the old and new hearing aids

In my recent hearing aid purchase, I sought out an audiologist here in Chicago who had the largest available representation of different manufacturers. I ended up choosing AHS, primarily because they provided a lot information on their website and a good variety of manufacturers. I could have had my hearing test covered by my insurance if I had gone to their one approved audiologist, but that audiologist did not carry the brands I was interested in looking at. Since the hearing aids themselves aren’t covered at all, and I knew I’d be plonking down significant cash, it was more important for me to get the right audiologist than a free test.

This ended up being a good choice, because I think I got the most thorough hearing test I’ve ever had, and Theresa Jabaley, the audiologist, was willing to treat me like an intelligent adult. She laid all the options out for me, with her recommendations, and helped me understand the various costs/benefits. I felt good about the choice we made together. It is a bit experimental, since the Inteo has a new feature called the “audibility extender”, which transposes high frequencies to low. I’ll report back on that experience another time.

So, back to the exponential improvement that two hearing aids may bring for my interactions with other people. Definite improvement so far, though it is taking some real adjustments to get used to all the extra amplification and the weirdness of using the phone with a hearing aid (before, I always had my left ear free). At times it is pretty overwhelming to get so much sound that I’m not used to, especially all the background noise that my hearing loss normally allows me to tune out completely. But if it means that I will be able to participate more fully in conversations and not miss out so frequently on what’s happening around me, it will be worth it. My thirty day trial period just ended, so at this point I’ve committed to my purchase. (Personally, 30 days isn’t really enough to be sure, but that’s another aspect of the distribution problems above.) I’m hoping that I will be gradually learning to hear better .

Oticon Delta image copyright Tony Cenicola /The New York Times

In January of this year, Angela and I moved to Chicago for my graduate program. We’d been living and working in Sydney for the last three years and wanted to keep our money in Australia, as the interest rates are quite favourable and the dollar is, to put it frankly, tanking. I had looked into banks that offered international banking, and Citibank seemed perfect. Key to our needs was the fact that bank-to-bank transfers between countries would not incur any fees.

It didn’t go well at all and in the end I had to close our account. Due to system problems in Citibank Australia, We had no ability to move any of our funds outside of the country. I spent weeks working with their customer service group to no avail. The problem basically came down to the fact that their phone system had trouble calling my cell phone (we don’t have a land line at home). Because of this, their security process couldn’t work. It didn’t matter that I could call them on the phone, verify it was me through their security screening, and that I could transfer money anywhere in Australia. Since their automated system couldn’t call my cell phone, I was not allowed to access my money. A dire set of circumstances indeed.

Now, as much as I like to bitch about bad customer experience, that’s not my point here. As a designer, I know what it is like to work on both sides of this issue. I know the limitations that the customer service representatives are under. I know the archaic computer systems that banks work within. I know that the ability to “do the right thing” is the last thing large companies enable their staff to do. So why write a letter?

To be honest, because I was pretty sure the CEO didn’t know what was going on right under his nose.

I had a really bad customer experience, but I tried to help them make it better. I tried to anticipate problems and resolve them for their group. I really wanted to figure it out and not have to move my money to another Australian bank, this time from far outside the country. But I was stopped at every juncture by the bureaucracy. So Citibank, already in trouble financially, lost another customer who was fighting to remain on board. I can’t even imagine how many leave and don’t say a word. And that’s why I wrote the letter. How are we to expect the companies that we rely on and use to improve where it matters if they don’t know what the issue is? Sure, they get a lot of calls, letters, and now more and more, emails, extolling the grievances endured by their unfortunate customers. But how many are from the point of view of a designer analysing the problem?

It great to vote with your wallet and move your business elsewhere, but that’s not always possible – especially with industries like utilities (don’t get me started on ComEd in Chicago). There may be only one game in town so you don’t have a choice. So the customer has to participate in the dialogue to if they want to help improve the companies they use as well. If the company doesn’t progress, so be it. They likely won’t be around long. But if you are able to make a dent in the decision making at the top of an organization by helping them to realize that the product they offer is often the experience, you may help them and yourself at the same time.

I am an evangelist for great user experience, mostly because I don’t think it is actually that hard to do or enable. Unfortunately, the process that makes something efficient often disregards user experience – both internal and external to a company. And companies are expert at trying to make things efficient. We’ve endured several decades now of MBA management that was built on a promise of cost savings and risk assessment, all while sacrificing innovation, product and service experience. It’s time to turn things around and make it not just necessary, but fashionable, to consider the people who are touched by a company’s wares.

As an addendum, I don’t think Citigroup is long for this world after reading the response I received from the head of Citigroup’s customer service. He was very apologetic that it had gone poorly for me – and then proceeded to tell me that it was my fault for not using the service as it was designed. I really don’t think the guy had a clue at the irony of the whole thing. I never received a reply from the CEO, but at least I tried…

Whether you’ve realized it or not, milk is expensive to ship, and a lot of that expense has been dictated by the type of plastic container that’s typically been used for a gallon of milk. Because of the shape, it is not possible to stack for shipment, thus requiring crates. These crates carry a lot of unused space and that increases the inefficiency of transporting milk cheaply. With fuel cost rising and food cost increasing as well, making successful cost savings to packaging can have a big impact. In fact, the new jugs lower the cost of a gallon of milk from $2.58 a gallon to $2.18 (a savings of just over 15%). Not only that, the new design has cut labor in half and water use (for cleaning the crates which birds love to roost in) by 60 to 70 percent. So, lower fuel use, lower water use, cheaper to purchase, and more convenient to stack and store. What’s not to like?

Well, for one thing, it doesn’t work for the customer.

It seems that the jug is extremely difficult to pour from and almost impossible for children to use. Costco even has a representatives demonstating the use of the jug in store who informs shoppers that the correct pouring technique is a “rock-and-pour instead of a lift-and-tip.” Shoppers are not convinced.

Of course with any big change to a common product there will be initial resistance to adoption. But the issue that I find interesting and all too common is that it was obvious that a large amount of effort was put into redesigning an artifact that affects a great deal of people. But, as is all too often the case, the goal of the design was short-sighted. Milk producers pretty much nailed the design requirements for stacking, transport, and resource savings. But did anyone consider those that need to actually use the product that is being shipped? It seems impossible that the designers, or even those who sponsored the change, didn’t try to use the jug themselves. So it appears that it was decided that if anyone needed to compromise on usability, it would be the people who had to use the jug day to day.

There is a hubris to design that often disregards those that we are ultimately designing for. Of course any design problem comes with acceptable compromise – you just can’t please everyone all the time. But this is a case where the key aspect of a milk jug (pouring the milk where you want to as easily as possible) wasn’t actually one of the key design goals. The customer was cut out of the equation. But this type of one-sided design isn’t reserved for just cutting out the consumer. In customer service organizations processes and systems are often designed with the end user in mind (fantastic!), but completely disregard the internal user (whoops!). Call centers are plagued by issues where customer service representatives need to go through complex work-arounds to actually help their clients. Or the informal networks that develop in bureaucracies to get around limited access to needed resources (Call Ted in processing, he knows what to do…). We’ve all experienced these issues, likely on both sides of the coin. What keeps us building half-sucessful designs?

A major factor is that most design challenges are part of a larger goal and that goal is often determined by people outside of managing a user’s experience. In the case of the Costco milk jug, it was likely designed under the direction of an operations manager who had a very specific need – cut costs. And cut cost they did. It remains to be seen if they also will end up cutting their own profits if consumers refuse to adopt the ill-designed jug. So how could this be avoided?

As designers, we need to be much more concerned with the complete picture of the work that we do. Personally, I am a strong advocate that design as a method needs to play a much stronger role in the actual day-to-day management and decision making of all organizations, both private and governmental. The role of design will be expanded to include all aspects of business and public policy. To do this, those that are playing lead roles for these organizations will need to rely on design strategy, development, and integration on a whole new level than what they are used to. This also invites the traditional designer to step up to roles not typically adopted, or even desired, to influence decision making where it matters. The end result should be a much more “user” focused world. Products would be designed not just for the consumer, but also for the environment, for processing, for cost, for support staff, for shareholders. You see where this is going.

Should design evolve into the role of making and influencing key decisions, it will require designers who ensure all aspects of a design problem and all those who would be affected by it are considered. The milk manufacturing and distribution business has a vested interest in solving a major problem in cost savings and their new jug has adressed that narrow aspect almost completely. However, they seem to have created another problem that even the most perfunctory testing would have revealed. The opportunity for designing to the “whole problem” was not entertained. The shame is that a “whole problem” approach is not de rigueur for most industries.

When I first heard about American Airlines adding charges to checked bags (with other airlines following suit), I shuddered. Let’s face it, there are a lot of things that prompt flyers to avoid checking bags these days, and it’s only gotten worse with post-9/11 security measures. Between the airlines and the TSA, checking bags is a pretty awful aspect of customer experience in air travel. And now they expect people to pay for this experience.

There are three reasons people avoid checking bags. The first is that the airlines make it just too difficult to deposit your bags. The queues at airport check-in are typically terrible and often force you to risk missing your flight. I’ve had many experiences arriving 90 minutes to 2 hours early to the airport, only to barely make my flight because I spent so much time waiting to check my bags. The check-in counters are never adequately staffed and are clearly one of the first places to suffer when airlines cut back on costs. It is much easier and faster to go straight to security with your over-stuffed rolling bag and directly to the plane.

The second reason has to do with handling. We’re all suspicious of what happens to our bags once they disappear down the conveyor belt. How many times is that bag going to be dropped, kicked, crushed, nicked, or even searched in its time moving onto and off of the plane? Especially now that we know that airport employees can open and search our bags with impunity, there is a level of violation associated with leaving your luggage in the hands of the airline. Of course, we all want to travel safe, and are happy to have potentially dangerous items checked and removed from other people’s luggage. But you can’t help but feel personally affronted by all the abuse your bags get.

The third reason has to do with recovery, or baggage claim. The airlines will say this is the airport’s fault, not theirs. But it is confounding how long it can take for your bags to reach the conveyor belt in baggage claim. And if the airlines can’t control this part of the experience, do they have a right to charge extra for bag handling?

Now, if I’m paying an explicit fee to check my bags, I will have an expectation that all three of these things will be improved as a service I am specifically paying for. Are the airlines prepared to deliver on this? I doubt it.

Paying separately for one’s bags raises people’s expectations for the service they will receive. If I pay $15-$30 to check my bags on each flight, I’m going to expect them to be checked efficiently and come rolling out of baggage claim tout de suite, rather than the 45-60 minute waits I’ve often had at many airports. And if a bag is lost or mishandled? My tolerance level is going to be nil. I’ll repeat it again. Are the airlines prepared to handle this additional level of expectation that they are building into the experience?

And let’s look at the on-board experience that not checking bags creates. (We all know that the byproduct of charging for checked bags will mean a proliferation of carry-on bags.) It affords all the kinds of selfish, rude behaviour that makes air travel so unpleasant most of the time. Take the overhead bins. There is never enough room in the overhead if each seat has a carry-on size suitcase, and I dislike the way people assume that someone else will not be using their storage space, just because they got there first.

People charge the boarding process in order to be first on the plane to get their roller bags in the bins, because there isn’t enough room for everyone’s. If you board later, there is often not even enough room in the overhead to stuff your jacket, let alone a book bag or a small backpack.

We rely on the fact that our neighbors will have varying amounts of carry-on material, so that if we have a large bag, we hope the guy next to us will have just a briefcase to put under the seat in front. The problem is that you can’t rely on this. Sometimes we all have large bags, and then it becomes an ugly first-come, first-served competition.

I’ve had a frustrated flight attendant slam someone’s carry-on suitcase into the backpack containing my laptop, just in an effort to get everyone seated. I’ve also overheard other passengers griping when someone moves their things over to create more space. How do we expect a bunch of strangers to reconcile the ten-pounds-of-$#@&-in-a-five-pound-bag phenomenon? Is it fair when one passenger loads up the bin with a suitcase, a briefcase, and two dozen Krispy Kreme donuts, leaving another passenger no choice but to stuff a duffel bag under the seat or wander the aisle with a flight attendant, searching for an open spot? Should overhead bins be evenly divided into quadrants for the 4-6 seats sharing them, with a seat assignment to each quadrant? But that would leave less space than could accommodate the average carryon suitcase. It’s the same phenomenon in a city parking garage where the Ford Expedition “steals” space from a neighboring Civic. God forbid two Expeditions have to park side-by-side.

And I’ve always wondered why the luggage industry hasn’t done more to work with the overhead bin restrictions. I realize that overhead bins vary in size on different aircraft, but many of the bags that get sold as “carry-on” size are clearly too big and give people an inappropriate sense of entitlement.

And the whole weight thing is suspect, in my view. The idea that luggage weighs a lot and therefore drives up fuel charges is valid, but I am a 130 pound person who often finds myself seated next to someone who weighs 250 or more. And yet we pay the same fare. I doubt my luggage ever weighs more than 30 pounds. If we are going to use weight as a determining factor for fuel surcharges, why not take it all the way and charge passengers by their total tonnage, so to speak?

Obviously that would be extreme solution with even less dignity for passengers, but it does expose some of the twisted or incomplete logic here. I get that the airlines have to cover fuel costs somehow, and that this *seems* like a fair way to assign the burden. But in the past, we always assumed that this cost was borne trough ticket price, and that in effect, we were all effectively subsidizing the cost of checked luggage, whether or not we chose to check our bags. (Indeed, many, if not most, people consider it a bonus to be able to skip the bag check, regardless of whether their fare may be subsidizing the extra luggage carried by the family going to Disney World.) Why take a cost that is hidden to the consumer and make it transparent? That just seems like asking for trouble. When hotels first started offering internet, people were outraged to have to pay extra fees for using the hotel’s network. These days, I know the cost of my hotel room includes the small surcharge built in to cover the cost of network coverage, just like it covers electricity for the TV.

People just don’t like being nickel and dimed for everything. You are providing a service, not a cafeteria meal, folks. My travel experience includes my luggage, and I don’t want to have to go out of my way to think through every little subcomponent of my trip. Luggage is part of travel, and my luggage is part of me.

If the end result is encouraging everyone to travel lighter, then that’s probably a good thing. But I doubt that the airlines are preparing for the added level of frustration that they will be introducing to the experience. How far can passengers be pushed and prodded before the experience become untenable? We’re all aware of, and surprisingly tolerant of being treated like “cattle”, even in business class. But there are limits on what human dignity can bear. I wonder how this baggage fee is going to play out and how it is going to affect passenger behaviour long term. A new AP story just today noted that the airlines would now more strictly enforce the FAA-defined restrictions on carry-on sizes. We could all see that coming.

We all know that there’s no free lunch. It’s just a question of how a business chooses to expose its business model to its customers and what level of commitment it has to delivering a positive experience. I suspect that most of us would have preferred to pay an extra $5-10 as an embedded cost in each ticket to cover a fuel surcharge for luggage, rather than have it itemized out, especially when people with large carry-ons start getting turned away at the gate and forced to pay the additional surcharge. What if people decide that as long as they are paying $15 a bag, they might as well bring the largest bags they can and pack as much as they can? Will that help the airlines’ problem?

My prediction is that at best, that this *might* solve the problem of accounting for the additional fuel costs of excess baggage, but it will hurt the airlines by raising the frustration level for both customers and employees and further degrading the passenger experience.