If you want to go quickly…

There is an almost certainly apocryphal proverb that goes something like, “If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together,” and I think of it often when trying to take on large/complex projects, because I see this thinking get a lot of teams in trouble.

One of the things we have to do when we, as designers, take on large projects is integrate complex sets of requirements; but that’s really hard to do with the “two-pizza teams” favored by adherents of this particular folk wisdom. Those teams are designed for speed, because (let’s face it) speed is almost always a requirement. That isn’t a bad thing. The longer a project goes on, the more likely it is to fail or get cancelled. Speed is a determining factor for most projects. The fault lies not in prioritizing speed, but perceiving it as a binary, and as a constant.

So, what do you do when you need to go quickly and go far?

I propose you oscillate between going together, and going it alone. Or, to keep things in the realm of apocryphal proverbs, you oscillate between Two-Pizza Teams and It Takes a Village. Recognize that there are times to go fast, skimming the surface and plowing through (or skipping off) surface-level disruptions; and times to slow down, sink in, and roll with the waves a bit. I know. My metaphors are all over the place.

This requires that you spend your time building a coalition of people who trust you and understand that there will be times that you will need their attention, and times when you don’t. There will be times when it seems like you’re ignoring them, and times where you will be joined at the hip. There will be times when you are asking them to weigh-in, and times when you are asking them to butt-out.

It takes an enormous amount of trust to get that last part to be okay; but that’s what it takes to do the big stuff quickly and well.

This, for what it’s worth, is why I end up being a proponent of facilitated collaboration methodologies like Design Thinking. At the points where you need to get input from that coalition, a well-designed workshop (or series) is a great way to get what you need from those people, while setting the ground-rules for asking them to get out of the boat so you can start going fast again.

No, it’s not all “User Experience.”

Last night I had a simultaneously exhilarating and frustrating conversation with a group of designers that I know through AIGA. It was the night before the national conference starts in earnest, and the hotel bars are chockablock with excited designers from all over the country, gathered to get inspired, learn from each other, network, and engage in group catharsis.

Clients/Developers/Stakeholders, as it turns out, really do be like that sometimes.

The conversation was a free-wheeling exploration of the relationships between all the various design disciplines, and what makes them “the same” and different. What was frustrating about it was the obvious lack of context of one of the participants, who was insisting that “everything is UX,” and then talking about something that is very clearly graphic design. More specifically, graphic design within the context of advertising.

At some points in the conversation, another participant and I would be having a side-bar about design history, engineering, computer science, design thinking, Design Thinking™, or whatever, and find ourselves saying exactly the same thing as the main conversation, only to hear it punctuated with “That’s what I’m saying, it’s ALL UX!”

No, it is not.

What we were discussing is design.

That’s the power of design thinking. It’s a mindset and problem-solving discipline that can be applied in any space. The lens you focus it through determines what it is, but that does not mean that “it’s all UX.”

Each of the various disciplines has facets of their execution that place emphasis/value on domain-specific concerns that would be useless in the other disciplines. For example – the selection of paper stock is irrelevant to UX. The understanding of Human Factors/Usability is largely irrelevant to print designers. There are, of course, overlaps in our understanding, because these are adjacent disciplines. Being able to select type combinations and judge their legibility is relevant to both, but even within that similarity, there are distinctions because of the technology being used to produce the end results, and understanding of those limitations is key to the success of the execution.

As I’m writing this, I am recalling various points in my transition from mostly doing print and brand work to doing 99% UX work, and the ridiculous number of times my print-based judgments of the overlapping parts of the two disciplines failed me. The more I think about it, the more I can see how my early judgement that these things were “the same” led me astray.

No, it’s not all UX.

It may all be design, but even in the similarities in disciplines, there is nuance. It’s not the same at all.

My Blind Spot

I really enjoy strategy, but I’m not as good at it as I want to be. I’m pretty bad at chess. I’m awful at Monopoly. I’m even pretty bad at tic tac toe sometimes. Recently I’ve been analyzing my own behavior, and I’ve started to see a pattern. I have a blind spot.

I am far more concerned with winning than not-losing.

That is, I spend far more time and energy thinking about how I am going to win than I do thinking about ways my opponent could beat me.

This is probably responsible for most of the arguments I get in with product managers, who are clearly biased toward not-losing. They’re far more concerned with keeping the customers we have than getting new ones.

Ideally, a good strategist is concerned with both making gains and keeping them.

I guess.

Right?

I don’t know. Keeping what you have is way less interesting than getting more.

I mean…I am aware that keeping the customers you have is WAY cheaper than getting new ones. Cost of acquisition is a major issue. But, there’s a balance there, right? You can’t play all-defense. You can’t play all-offense.

At any rate, now that I’ve noticed my own personal bias, I’m going to start trying to modify it. Maybe one day I can achieve balance. (Although it would probably be more fun to be at least a little biased toward winning.)

Support for IE[-3] has ended…

The site I work on at work gets requests like this pretty often:
“When will you support Internet Explorer [version number way lower than 11]?”

And, the answer is, “Never. A very small part of our users use IE[-3], and the cost would be prohibitive.”

And their answer to that is typically something like, “Our IT guys won’t let us install Chrome or Firefox or upgrade windows and get IE[n].”

At first I felt bad for these people, and told my bosses that we could support IE[-3], gave them an estimate for how long it would take to do, and told them how it would affect the design. After all, as a long-time Mac user, I used to get these “you’re a second-class netizen” messages all the time, and I know it’s frustrating. But now…I don’t feel bad at all, and here’s why:

From Microsoft’s website, “Windows Internet Explorer [-3] is also no longer supported, so if you use it (or any other browser) to surf the web, you might be exposing your PC to additional threats…”

This is IT’s job, right? To keep the technical resources running and safe? No one thought it was a huge surprise that XP was discontinued (and along with it IE[-3]), and they gave us plenty of warning. Computers and OSes have a predictable useful life. Upgrades should be planned spend.

If you’re using IE[-3], the web sucks for you. You’re not seeing most of the cool (and useful) new stuff that people are making. Supporting your out of date browser means we can’t make as many cool (and useful) things as we want to, because each one takes twice as long. Selfishly, I like making cool stuff. Not selfishly – The 80% of users who are using modern browsers are better served by the stuff we make using modern techniques.

What you’re asking for, when you ask for support of your out-of-date browser is that we slow the pace of creating cool (and useful) things for everyone, to accommodate the pace of your IT staff not doing their job (or you not wanting to have a conversation with them about it, which I’m sure is often the case).

When viewed through that lens, I no longer feel bad for these people. I will not be their enabler. Talk to your IT staff about getting you the tools that you need.

UX isn’t as important as User Experiences

In the past few years UX has become a big part of the conversation about design and its benefit to business. It had previously been a relatively small corner of the design universe, mostly concerned with how information is organized, how a user gets from Point A to Point B inside your application, and what form fields they’ll have to fill out (and how) once they get there. It is now a growing discipline that seems like it will consume all aspects of product and service design.

UX becoming important to business is not because business suddenly came to understand that what we were doing was important, but because UX slowly drifted into a holistic design discipline at around the same time that businesses finally became aware that products aren’t as important to people as experiences.

Spending vs. Wasting Time

I frequently have arguments with people about wasting time “re-doing” things they spent time on already. They’ll say things like, “I know this isn’t the best solution, but if we change it now, we will have wasted the time we spent making it.”

Here’s the thing. You’ve only wasted that time if you never learn from it and fix it.

If you spent your time making something that isn’t very good, and has little or no value, then you have wasted it. If, however, you spend some more time making a better, high-value, thing, based on what you learned, then it was only a small investment in the resulting high-value product.

Crazy Visionaries and Faster Horses…

I am particularly fond of the misattributed (or completely fabricated) Henry Ford quote,

“If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.”

It’s spirit is something I identify pretty strongly with…that the market is incapable of thinking beyond the horizon. Buyers and users have a really hard time conceiving of anything that isn’t pretty similar to something they’re already familiar with. Steve Jobs also said something similar (and mostly true),

“…people don’t know what they want until you show it to them.”

This creates conflict for me internally, because at my heart, I am a human centered designer. I solve problems for people, and I want them to use and enjoy and find value in the things I create for them. Their input (the user) is critically important to the creation of valuable design. So, how do I reconcile this belief that people/the market are incapable of conceiving of radically high-value solutions to their own problems?

Easy. I don’t.

There’s a world of difference between solving a problem in a way that users can’t have seen coming, and spending your time, money and resources solving a problem that doesn’t exist, or solving it in a way that won’t be accepted. There’s also a world of difference between studying a user and their needs, and simply asking them what they want. It is in that difference that these ideas become not just strange bedfellows, but amplify each others effect.

Effective study of a user’s needs and behavior gives you the background to design exactly what they want, even if they don’t know it yet. Studying the user doesn’t need to raise the probability that you’ll create something mundane. But, not studying the user does raise the probability that you’ll create something that doesn’t solve their problem.

What Henry Ford (allegedly) understood about his users is actually born out in that quote. “Faster Horses,” tells him what problem he’s solving. The value he as an innovator brings to the market is that he solved the root problem in a novel way.

Ignoring your user does not make you a Crazy Visionary, it just makes you crazy. Your value as an innovator does not come from the ability to invent completely previously un-thought-of things from whole cloth, it comes from the ability to solve real problems for real people in meaningful ways.

Who wants crazy visionaries anyway? I would much prefer cannily sane ones. 😉

Opportunity Costs

This, to the best of my recollection, was an actual objection I recently faced when discussing the future of a product with its manager.

“We can’t afford to radically improve [our product]. If we do, the customers we have now might decided that, since they’ll have to transition to the new version, they might as well transition to a competitor’s product.”

At the time I just stared at this person, absolutely dumbfounded. This notion is so foreign to me that, uncharacteristically, I did not argue the point.

After some consideration, I have formulated a response, which I give you now as food for thought.

You should assume that your customers are constantly evaluating alternatives to your product. If you don’t have a new offering, if you’re not setting pace, if you’re not constantly improving, if you’re not always getting a little bit better at solving their problems, you can be damn sure that their short list of solutions to replace your product won’t include your product. Not giving them a radically improved product to transition to is giving them no choice but to transition to a competitor.

I ❤ Michael Bierut

I love this talk. It’s, seriously, one of those things that made the light go off in my head the first time I watched it, and here’s why:

  1. “Educating” Clients is patronizing bullshit – Clients don’t need to know what font it is, or what Pantone color, or what the fuck Kerning is. They hire you to know that stuff. All they care about is whether or not they accomplish whatever they set out to accomplish. Most of the time I hear people talking about “educating” clients, it’s because the client didn’t make the decision they wanted them to on some thing that’s fairly arbitrary. Here’s the thing: Clients ALWAYS make the decision that is in their best interest. They’re selfish like that, thankfully. If they don’t like the same font as you, it’s because they don’t perceive a strategic value. In order for them to perceive a strategic value, there must BE a strategic value. You LOVING whatever gorgeous H&FJ font you just spent all your pocket money on doesn’t count. It has value to you, but not them.
  2. They hire you to do things they’re bad at – Good clients know that they didn’t hire you to make the thing, or to conduct the software, but because you know about things like color theory, typesetting, and information architecture.
  3. The best clients don’t give a shit about design – Mr. Bierut says in his talk that there is a continuum between clients who love design and clients who don’t give a shit about design, but know that it’s valuable. He says that he tends to find that people on the ‘not giving a shit’ side of the spectrum tend to make better clients, because they’re less likely to mistake their own personal taste for what a good solution looks like. There are great clients who love design, and trust you to push them and make them uncomfortable, but they’re rare.
Anyway. There’s lots more great stuff in the talk. If you see something that you think is noteworthy, leave it in the comments.

Recognizing Red Flags

So, as it turns out, I need to take my own advice. This is a companion piece to my previous piece on the Virtues of Being Expensive.

Twice in my career thus far, I have issued a refund. Both times, it’s been for logo design, and both times, it’s been for someone who couldn’t afford me, but ‘loved my work.’ In both cases these individuals have made personal appeals for me to do the work for less than my standard fee, and in both cases, when they insisted that I refund them their money, they have attacked my character.

Of course, it’s flattering to be picked out of relative anonymity on the internet and asked to do a thing you enjoy doing. Everyone like to hear, “Oh, you’re so good at [X],” or, “I love your work so much, I simply must have you do my [project].” It inclines one to be kind to the person stating such things…and this is why it’s so goddamned dangerous.

These people are frequently the ones who want you to work for cheap…or free; and it’s also been my experience that they are also the biggest pains in the ass.

I don’t do pro-bono work anymore. Really, ever. It only goes well once in every ten times. The odds just suck. Best case scenario is that I’ll spend hours and hours and hours on a thing and the client will accept it as-is, and thank you and move on. Worst case, they hate it, want to make a billion changes that don’t improve the quality of the piece or accomplish any of the goals, and then stop returning your phone calls. Normally it’s somewhere in the middle. (‘Client’ hates it, but accepts it anyway and just doesn’t use it.) Everyone starts the project with the best of intentions, but the ‘client’ (in quotes because they aren’t paying you) doesn’t take the briefing process seriously, gives lip service to the idea of creating a thing that exceeds their needs or bucks trends, and then revises any hope of success right out of it. What you’re left with, if you have the patience to continue being treated like a short order cook, is a thing that not only would you be ashamed to show people, but it doesn’t really serve the client’s needs either. So, all around, it’s a failure.

It all comes down to value. The whole project is poisoned by the briefing process that the client doesn’t take seriously…and they don’t take it seriously because they aren’t paying for it. They also don’t take the revision process seriously, because they aren’t paying for it.

Cheap clients are essentially the same as non-paying ‘clients.’ They don’t value the time that goes into the creation of the thing, so they don’t think they should pay for it. I have actually had a prospective client say to me, “How long could it take to draw a logo? 4 or 5 hours? Do you mean to tell me you charge $250/hour?” (I don’t. I charge much, much less.)

I’ll explain to people that the reason I charge so much (which, apparently is a lot in my market, although it is below the national average according to the GAG) is that I do a ton a research, and spend a lot of time with clients trying to divine their needs, instead of just taking and filling orders. Drawing a logo, after all, should be simple. Designing one takes time, and strategy, and rigorous testing. The cheap people don’t care. They don’t want, and do not value, the insight generated by that effort.

What it really comes down to is that these clients do not value the thing I actually do, generate insight and value. They only value the artifact of that insight. That makes them terrible clients, and almost certainly will lead to dissatisfaction, arguments, and ultimately, if my experience is any indication, irrational name calling. The fact that they ask you to discount your fees, cut “unnecessary” chunks out of your process, or fail to participate in whatever small part of the process involves them signals that they are terrible clients. The project will likely end badly, and the blame will likely fall on you, because no one ever blames themselves.

So, how does one deal with these people? It’s been my experience that there is no good way to do it. I have a long list of red flags by this point in my career, and it’s generally pretty true that once I see one, I can tell you what type of dysfunction I’m dealing with and how this project will go off the rails, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. So, what do I do? Walk away from every contract with a red flag? If I walked away from every contract where a red flag went up, I’d basically walk away from half of my contracts.

I think this is what I’m going to do for now:

Never Give Discounts. Ever

That means no pro-bono, no bartering, no stock options or equity or royalties in exchange for lowering my fees. Ever.

Going Back to a Longer Contract

I used to use this really long and intimidating contract and a lot of people would remark that it was long and intimidating, so I made a shorter one that people found more approachable. So approachable that I fear people don’t think it’s legally binding. Both of the people who have ever asked for refunds have expected that they be let out of this contract.

Raising My Prices

Yep. If, as I’ve covered previously, cheap skates are the problem, raise your prices. In order to make a living doing logo design at my current price, I would have to do 50 per year. That’s one a week. It takes me WAY LONGER than that to do one using my process that I really feel provided the minimum acceptable level of quality to make it worthwhile. And, I can make a lot more money building a website that takes a lot less time. My time is my time is my time is my time. Those things should be equal. So, logo prices are about to go up.

Publish My Prices

It’s generally frowned upon in our profession to talk about prices in public. The traditional wisdom is that you don’t want to quote Nike and the Mom ‘n’ Pop client down the street the same price, because the value you are providing to those two groups is very very different. Here’s the thing though – Nike ain’t calling me. 75% of the local small client calls I field have their eyes bug out of their heads when I tell them what I charge anyway. All I’ve done is waste both of our time. I need to allow potential cheap skate clients to self-select, by which I mean, go away.

Turn Away Work

At the real point of all these things is that I need to stop working with people who don’t value or understand what I do and what it is worth. All these strategies result in me turning away work from people who will be scared off by them. They’re essentially ways for me to allow clients to disqualify themselves so that I don’t have to actually tell them, “No” myself, which clearly, I have a problem doing.

Will it Work?

Who knows? I’ve been concentrating a lot on identifying the red flags that help you figure out which clients are going to be awesome and which ones are going to be assholes. However, I have often said to people, “If you think everyone you work with is an asshole, maybe you are the asshole.”

Maybe they aren’t the problem. Maybe I’m the asshole.