Embrace Friction in Design & Design Relationships
Recently, a client we’ve worked with on several projects needed design feedback on a development project they’d started before we met. The folks they’d contracted were technically inclined, but neither content nor design oriented. Sharing feedback would be awkward but necessary.
I collated my comments into themes and shared both the patterns I was observing and the individual issues. Then forgot about it.
The project has moved on from design into a development phase (in their world, the two don’t overlap), but upon seeing an image of the site as part of a content discussion, I was confronted with glaring usability challenges (like 300 character lines of text) and I felt it would be irresponsible not to share the feedback.
Ultra-long lines of text is a readability issue you learn about in graphic design 101. Yet even though I’d already been contracted by the client to share feedback, I was conscious that my role was to point out a negative. The feeling was uncomfortable.
Houston Airport famously addressed complaints about eight-minute baggage wait times by replacing waiting time with a less irritating type of friction: walking. They moved the arrival gate further away and sent off-loaded bags to the furthest carousel. Formerly frustrated passengers now walk six minutes, wait one minute, then pick up their bags and leave without complaining.
Friction is a physics principle with design applications.
While it sounds inherently negative, consider about how simple street signs alerting drivers to kids in the neighbourhood affects them. IKEA is a maze for a reason. While it erodes the experience for me, IKEA’s data must show them that the extra departments people wander through trying to get out leads to more sales.
Grocery chains put things everyone needs at the back to give the crap you don’t need a shot at your defenses on the way in and the way out (make a list and defend yourself!). In the many years we’ve designed communications for Fiesta Farms, we’ve never worked on the interior of the store. The store doesn’t boast the wide lanes and bright aisles of its big chain competitors–people regularly bump carts and clog aisles scanning shelves or chatting. The day it looks polished in there is the day people forget it’s an independent family-run business–warts, friction, and all.
Terroni is a storied Toronto and LA restaurant empire that refuses to make substitutions. They claim it’s to preserve the integrity and authenticity of their Southern Italian fare. Management consultants claim the stubbornness offers a slew of benefits from never having to imagine how a new variation should be handled or how it will taste to keeping ingredient supplies consistent. Critics complain, calling the practice arrogant. Though they’ve renovated to expand twice, the Terronni near me usually has a lineup at lunch and dinner. The friction they create by saying “no” and resulting complaints by customers who don’t get it bolster Terroni’s claim to authenticity in the eyes of their fans. It’s good bad PR.
Some of our best design solutions come through creative friction.
Thrashing ideas until they gel is part of the process at many design shops. Experienced communications professionals throw out what Patrick calls a “quick/bad” idea as a thought-starter. We politely exclaim “yes, and” –then build on or ricochet off of the initial volley. It takes a thick skin to throw out the first ideas.
It takes a thick skin to throw out the first ideas. It takes professional trust to run with, evolve, or ignore your teammate’s volley. It can be particularly challenging to do it to a client. Doesn’t it seem like just about the worst thing you can do to have to suggest to a client that their idea is undercooked? That they might be substituting their personal preferences for their customer’s? That there are graphic design, behavioural, or usability challenges they might be missing?
Not that anyone is Maleficent, but part of your job as a designer is to be the mirror on the wall. Sometimes, ideas do look fat in those jeans. The customer isn’t always right–especially when they’re paying you for a professional opinion. If you tell your life partner what they want to hear, that may be a smart move. If you tell a client what they want to hear when it doesn’t coincide with your perspective, you’re a sycophant, a liar, or a fraud. Worst of all, avoiding friction when it can adversely affect your client’s enterprise or initiative is unprofessional.
The good news is that being honest with your client when it causes friction is the fastest way to find out whether they hired you for your skills or because they need a “yes wo/man.”
Friction is only negative when it arrives unintentionally. When you accidentally make something harder to do than necessary. When used purposefully, either as a design principle or to advance a design dialogue, it’s an uncomfortable but vital asset. Embrace it.
