Lights, Toilets and Doors

If you have read my previous blog will be relieved to know that the two identical green buttons on the lightswitches in the toilets of my Paris office have now been helpully labelled on and off. This means that I am no longer in the dark when the energy saving light sensor turns them off.

I was discussing my problems with poor user interactions of everyday objects with Jennie Winhall and Chris Vanstone, previously of  the Design Council RED research unit that has recently spun off. Jennie told me of a french public toilet that, following a revamp, was suffering from twice the length of queue it had previouly had. Was this because it had attracted twice the customers through it’s luxury or comfort ? No, it was because a brilliant new flush system had been installed that was operated when the door was opened. Unfortunately, people in the loo were frantically trying to discover where the flush was. Finally, having given up and overcome the embarassement of leaving the loo unflushed, they became brave, or desperate enough, to leave, when they were relieved to hear the loo flush as they opened the door.

France is proud of it’s technological achievements and is always looking for a smarter and cleverer way to do everyday things. But this story is a warning to all well meaning technologists; find out what the human experience of your wonderful new idea is like because the result could be the opposite that you had intended.

Toilets are the basis of one of my favourite examples of user insight. This story comes from Jeremy Myerson at the Helen Hamlyn Foundation at the Royal College of Art. London’s Heathrow airport are developing a new terminal, T5, and sensibly carried out forecasting studies to understand transportation needs over the next few decades. One clear prediction was that travellers would be older, we are living longer, are more prosperous and keen to travel with more leisure time. To understand the needs of older travellers, British Airports Authority (BAA) commisioned the Helen Hamlyn Foundation to research older travellers through Heathrow and see if there were special requirements that BAA could design into their new terminal.

The research team quickly reported back that older travellers went to the loo, a lot. Obviously, more toilets were going to be needed to cater for demand.

But some of the team decided to go into the loos to see how they were used. Inside the toilets, they found old people standing around, not using the toilet, but listening to the anouncements. Nervous and worried about missing their flights, this was the one place they could clearly hear announcements, away from the hub bub of airport noise.

So the real solution to the real problem is to create quiet areas where announcements can be easily heard. We wait to see whether BAA manage to do this in the new T5.

To move back to where we started, lightswitches are a great example of good and bad interaction design combining physical object, intuition and learned behaviour. A Martian, asked to turn a light on or off, would naturally inspect the lightbulb itself, and intuitively remove it or even break it to turn it off. Given that the right place for a lightbulb is up in the ceiling, we have to place the switch closer to our reach, but precisely where can be a matter of cultural disagreement. In Europe, light switches to toilets are often outside, in the UK they are often a piece of string to be pulled. In energy efficient office spaces, lightswitches are fast disappearing. At the new Orange offices there are no switches at all. And as the presence detectors don’t work yet, late working office workers work in gloom, trading rare desklamps from fellow workers who look like they’re about to leave for the day.

But having decided where to place the switch, the status of the switch is easily communicated by the form, with one half raised and the other flush. This is simple and easliy understood message to push the side that sticks out to change the light from off to on, or vice versa. Often the face sticking out reveals a red face, which may mean the light is on, or that it will be off if you press, I am never sure, nor why we need to know as we can see the light is on. But in a power plug, this is more important, so we learn over time which is on and which is off.

My perfect lightswitch would have that slight orange glow that french switches have, so you can locate them in the dark, have a clear, intuitive physical shape to show where to press and have a satisfying feel, with no delay for the light to come on or go off. My nightmare switch would be hidden in the door frame, be covered in graphics and say thank you when you use it.

And despite thousands of years of trying, we still can’t get doors right. There’s only a few things you need to know about doors. How to open them, which side they are are hinged and which way they move. Plus perhaps what’s behind them and that it’s safe to open.

Suprisingly though, we still have many problems. Most modern office doors require extensive signage to explain whether to push or pull. With security systems, there is the added complication of where and how to place your card. A door opening button is often required, usually cunningly placed near a lightswitch requiring a « this is or is not, a lightswitch » notice to be placed along side. And with so many doors split in two, with only one side opening, knowing which side to pull or push is not always straightforward either. One office in Paris has thoughtfully stencilled the pull sign right on the door. But as the centre plate cleverly hides the door split, it is impossible to know which side it is referring to, I get it wrong half the time still.

Whereas most of my day is spent trying to understand complex user interface options of mobile phones or web services, it makes me feel good that we can’t even get the simple stuff right.