Sympathy for the bedeviled

UX and enterprise software’s imprisoned users

I lost my Social Security card, right when I needed it to refinance my mortgage. I went through the (quite helpful) Social Security website to fill out the application for my replacement card, but in order to receive it, I needed to go to their office to show ID and hand in the forms personally.

The office was painted an ennui-inducing beige, with rows of chairs like tombstones across the waiting area. An electronic touchscreen dispensed tickets assigning you a place in line, a system that took the mostly older users 5 minutes to walk through. A flatscreen TV showed fourth-rate computer animations reminding you to notify them in case you moved, all with a chillout smooth jazz soundtrack that was neither chillout-able nor jazz.

No one wanted to be there. An older gentleman had an issue with his disability. A son was trying to work out his father’s benefit record. A new mother was signing her newborn up for a number. But they had no choice but to be there.

Once they called my number I presented my ID and cracked a joke about being an idiot who lost his card. They did not like the joke. Instead it was constant reminders of perjury penalties if I was lying, of when I could expect to receive a card, and a lot of dour-faced scrutiny.

The experience, for me, wasn’t what we in the UX world call “delightful.” It was just the opposite. But I had to be there. I had no choice. Just as I have no choice but to show up at the DMV every five years for a new driver’s license. I can’t “choose” an alternative provider of Social Security cards and driver’s licenses. That choice has been made for me.

One of the biggest themes in the user experience field is empathy. We want to suffer with the user so that we can build UIs that meets the user where they are. To set them free from complexity. To make them want to choose to use your product.

But users don’t get to choose the enterprise software products they use. A previous employer charged Fortune 500 companies enormous amounts of money to provide a software package I helped design. The companies’ users, those tasked with using this system, had no part in the buying decision.

They were my prisoners.

I will do what I can to make their journey through the system simpler. I can cut the number of clicks they make, simplify their workflow, or make the design patterns match things they’re used to. But they are still there because they have to be. If they want to be paid, they have to use my designs to get their work done.

Beyond empathy, we need sympathy for users. It’s not just that we need to feel their pain. We need to know they didn’t want to be here today, they had no choice on being here, and there are things they’d rather be doing. And that is something we should remember as we’re researching these users, to treat them as people as prisoners who cannot just walk off the island of our product. They deserve to be treated with dignity.

Our aim isn’t to make something they want to come back to over and over again. Our aim is to make it as easy as possible for them not to have to come back.