I Failed. But I’m Getting Better.

Photo by Paul Gilmore on Unsplash

This hurts to write. It hurts to fail. A lot. I failed hard a few months ago. But I’m getting better.

One day everything is perfect. The next day I’m almost fired.

I worked for years to build a relationship with a potential client. Then one day, that relationship bloomed into contractual work. For three months I got to do organizationally-challenging, mindset-shifting, real-world-changing work with them. Everything was great! We even got another team at the client to do a second project with us. It was then that I got too comfortable. I got casual in my relationship, and as a result, offended someone, and damaged the relationship I worked so hard to build.

I never got a warning. I never had a one-on-one where they explained what happened. I’m literally still not quite sure exactly who was offended or why. One day everything was perfect. The next day I was almost fired.

I was hurt. I was confused. Exclamations echoed in my mind—“I’m a good person! What did I say? Who are my accusers? Why can’t I defend myself? What was the context? This isn’t fair!”

The Villain Unmasked

The details aren’t really important. My boss was able to share with me third-hand some of what happened. But honestly, I didn’t remember the instances, and upon review, they seemed contextually trite. But again, with half a year of perspective, I realize now that the details don’t matter. What matters is that others were offended by something I said. It doesn’t matter why I did it, or if I didn’t mean it. Someone was hurt, and they were hurt by me. Because I am not the victim in this story. I am the villain. It’s taken me a while to figure this out, but, as I said, I’m getting better.

It doesn’t matter why I did it, or if I didn’t mean it. Someone was hurt, and they were hurt by me. Because I am not the victim in this story. I am the villain.

It stings to discover you’re the bad guy in a story. Your brain doesn’t want to process it, and actively works to prevent you from accepting an idea contrary to your own, currently-held biases (in this instance, identifying as the victim). It’s like that moment when, as you watch the LEGO movie, you realize you are President Business. (Yes, that happened to me as well). In theatre and cinema, the best evil antagonists are played by actors who know a little trick: The villain thinks they’re the good guy. I can’t begin to sort through and describe the gamut of emotions I’ve gone through the past couple of months, as I’ve slowly discovered this. It still hurts. I haven’t even been physically able to issue an apology or make any kind of restitution. I’m simply cut off. But again, I have to remind myself — I am not the victim here.

I failed, but I’m not a failure.

It’s a simple truth that as a consultant, you’re less than expendable to your client. You’re whatever the client needs you to be. Sometimes that means you shoulder the failure of a project (even if it wasn’t you). Sometimes that means you’re the target of blame (even if it wasn’t you). Sometimes that means you don’t get the benefit of the doubt (even if you should). You simply go away. These are actually all selling points of why you hire a consultant in the first place. When you’ve never had a client relationship go sideways, it’s easy to forget these facts. I pride myself on my client relationships. It’s perhaps the thing I’m best at. Or was best at. But, I’m getting better.

The fact is, I failed my client by not understanding or empathizing with how they expected our relationship to function. I failed my client by blindly, and unknowingly hurting them with casual words. I failed my employer by failing my client. I failed my family by failing my employer. I failed myself by failing my family. I failed, but I’m not a failure.

A Failure to Empathize

As an Experience Designer one of the key pillars of the Triforce of UX is Empathy. It is, perhaps, the most critical emotional skill you can have as a designer. Maybe as a human being. You must channel the thoughts, feelings, habits, routines, and mental models of the people you’re solving problems for. My CEO has written two books on customer experience. He talks a lot about keeping your clients’ needs top of mind and trying to provide your clients with solutions not just to the problems they hired you to address, but also provide solutions to issues they hadn’t even anticipated yet. I lost sight of one of the critical components of the consultant/client relationship. Clients aren’t your friends. You aren’t your clients’ friend. My role as a consultant is to solve problems and provide value to my clients. To ensure that they feel they get more value out of our interactions and my deliverables than the fee they paid. That’s it. Everything starts there. In the end, I wasn’t able to empathize with my client and proactively address their professional needs, because I wasn’t looking at them through the proper lens. In effect, I’d designed my interactions with the client using the wrong persona. I couldn’t empathize with them because I didn’t truly know them as I should have.

They say the sale doesn’t start until the customer says “no.” Perhaps it’s not much of a stretch then to say growth doesn’t start until a client fires you.

I am sorry for causing any discomfort or distress to my client. I am sorry for the pressure it put on my team to adjust for my abrupt departure from the project. I am sorry for the uncomfortable conversations that were had by everyone surrounding this whole mess.

So What?

I’d like to mention how grateful I am to my employer for not firing me. They could have. Easily. But, once my boss had reviewed all the data, he didn’t believe it warranted dismissal. So instead, we had a radically candid 1:1 where we discussed how and why this all happened, and how we’d ensure the client and project were handled moving forward (under a new manager) to ensure future success. Now, damaging a relationship with a client could easily garner a pink slip, but instead, he used this as a teaching moment to help me become a better manager, consultant, and professional.

So…what am I doing about it? How will I learn from this, ensure that it never happens again, and help others avoid it altogether?

The short answer is anything and everything. Like most of us, I’m figuring this out as I go. The first thing I’ve done is radically shortened the list of topics open for discussion with clients. Work is work. There are times and places for discussions of various topics, and work should carve many of those topics out completely.

Next, I’ve tried to weave a stronger filter between my brain and my mouth. (I think this is something just about everyone can use a healthy helping of from time to time). Not every stupid little thought that blunders its way across the stage of our minds needs to be trotted out the mouth for all to hear. The first step of this is continuing to improve my active listening skills. We have two ears, and one mouth and should be using them in a similar ratio. Perhaps if I’d been a better listener, or even simply spoken less, this all could have been avoided. I’m painfully reminded of the adage “Tis far better to keep one’s mouth closed and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

Next is this article. I don’t know what will come of it. I don’t know what people will make of it. It may be the only apology I get to offer my client. I’d like to make amends, and repair any damage if possible, but that remains to be seen.

Lastly, it may simply be that the purpose of my experience has been to serve as a warning to others. Let my mistakes help you avoid making any of your own.

It hurts to grow. A lot. I’m growing now. I’m learning from my failures.‬ I’m thankful for more chances. I will do better.‬

When we’re successful, we worry we got there by accident. When we fail, we feel justified in our self-doubt. But we can’t allow failure to color, hinder, or prevent future efforts. We must double-down on investing in ourselves, knowing we’re worth it.

I failed. But I’m getting better. You may fail. But you’ll get better too.

Here’s to future opportunities, major personal improvements, growth, and most of all, to second chances.

The Triforce of UX : Part I — Empathy

3 Qualities To Seek In Your Next UX Designer

The Triforce

Preface

After 2 awesome years with Improving, I took a leap of faith and joined Precocity. Leaving my former employer also meant leaving my client. It was one of those rare golden client/consultant relationships; it felt like we’d worked together for ages and were always on the same wavelength. Upon my departure, the client wanted to hire an in-house user experience (UX) designer that could meet or exceed the relationship we’d had. They contacted me and asked 2 key questions:

What three skills would you place as most important for a UX Designer?

How you might phrase some interview questions to validate a candidate actually has those skills?

Having both interviewed and been interviewed for UX positions many, many times over the years I must shamefully concede that I’d never actually asked myself those questions. As I began to answer those questions (now more for myself than the client) I realized I had incredibly strong opinions on this subject. Then as I began to compile my thoughts a friend of mine asked me the exact same questions but from the candidate’s point of view. Thus this 3 part series was born.

The Triforce

What geek worth their salt can be asked to codify anything in 3 parts and not liken it to The Triforce?

The Triforce is one of the most iconic symbols in video game lore. In Nintendo’s The Legend of Zelda, it’s an omnipotent sacred relic. Each triangle represents a Triforce all of which make up The Triforce when combined. In the game, they represent Power, Wisdom, and Courage.

While admirable all, in answer to my client and friend I believe The Triforce of UX consists of Empathy, Curiosity, and Humility.

The Triforce of UX

In each part of this three-part series, I discuss why I believe each of these are the three most important aspects of a good UX Designer and three questions to ask to discover if the candidate matches these qualities. I’m sure many of you will disagree with me on some or all of these. That’s okay. I understand how you might feel. I’m curious to better understand why you feel that way, and would be humbled by your responses ;-)

Read Part II here. Read Part III here.

PART I: The Triforce of Empathy

The Triforce of Empathy

In The Legend of Zelda, your health is measured in little hearts. The more hearts you have the more health you have, the stronger you are, the longer you’ll live, the longer you’ll last in battle. The same is true in UX.

When considering a UX candidate, ask yourself some questions:

Does the candidate know how to get into the heads, and hearts of the users/developers/stakeholders? Can they walk a mile in their shoes?

Or, is this some hot-shot MY Experience designer? (A UX Designer without the U is a MyX Designer). Do they think the answers to all of their questions lie in their own background, knowledge, and experience? Do they cloister themselves atop Mount Sinai then descend bearing the stone mockups from on high with God’s Gift to Software®, or are they sitting at the feet of the people who will actually use the software, studying them? Are they trying to discern what the users’ and business’ problems are, and how the customers might more easily accomplish their goals?

This is what I mean by empathy. It’s also not just for the users. The best designers are good negotiators, mediators, and bridge-builders. If each member of the business, development, and user pool are the spokes of a wheel, the UX designer is the hub around which these things turn. They bind disparate parts into a functional whole with a centered and unified focus. They don’t make enemies, they make allies. They build relationships of trust and accountability. Everyone needs to be able to trust the UX designer, and feel free and encouraged to come to them with the gnarliest of their problems.

When designing solutions the best UX designers will be juggling all of the research and notes from all of those involved trying to come up with the solution that fits the customer first then all others accordingly.

3 Empathy Questions For Candidates

1. What’s your primary goal as a UX Designer?

After all the chit-chat, ice-breaking, and weather talk, open here. We want to discover if this candidate’s mental model of UX aligns with yours. Their answer to this question (and how quickly they respond) could help save both of you an hour wasted. If you don’t sync here there’s not much reason to continue the conversation.

The answer I’m looking for speaks to making people rock stars at their jobs/tasks/etc. while balancing the needs of the business, and the realities of the humans involved in the process of making it. I want to know that they’re as passionate about creating amazing experiences for humans as I am. Basically, do our UX visions align at the macro level?

Listen for the order they rank items as they sift through their responses. They may never have voiced this verbally so give them some time to collect their thoughts and the freedom to rearrange. They might first mention developers and last the users; get them to clearly rank-order their responses after the fact.

1. In terms of importance, for me, they need to first focus on the end-users. It is after all the U in UX.

2. Next, do they care about shipping the product the client or business actually wants? Can they speak to helping the business steer clear of pitfalls and mistakes using their expertise and position to guide the business to the best possible version of their vision?

3. Lastly, but never least, do they care about the humans that will actually build it? Are they cognizant they may be asking people to give up time with their families and friends to build some lofty, impossible dream requiring new chip architectures and improbable bandwidth speeds in 6 months? Good designers understand that although the customer and business may want a thing, even need it, every feature we add, every interaction we invent means a developer’s time to implement — usually a lot more time than it took us to dream it up. We should never be anxious to volunteer other people’s time.

2. Tell me about your user-research techniques and methodologies.

What A UX Designer Actually Does

Here we’re starting to delve into soft skills. Can they talk to other humans? Is he meek as a mouse? Is she a blustering braggard? Neither is optimal. Even if you have separated your UX Research role from your UX Designer role, they still need to have a broad overlap of soft skills.

The very conversation you’re having will help you suss out much of their natural abilities. But to be a good researcher they should also have a conscious, purposeful method. Candidates need to be able to talk about interviewing people over the phone and in person. Are they able to help customers talk about their problems without leading them (open-ended vs close-ended questions)? Most importantly — are they capable of shadowing people in their own environments, seeing what their needs are and how and where they do their job? Do they even have a desire to do this and do they know why it’s so important? Are they able to mention these items free of prompting from you and can they eloquently articulate them?

Find out when they do research. How prominent a role does it play in their process? Is it an after-the-fact A/B test kind of thing? Do they like focus groups (and if so, dear Ganon WHY!?) Is this where they start or end? Is this iterative?

Ultimately the ability to accurately assess users’ needs will be the primary dictator as to whether the product solves anybody’s actual problems.

3. Who has final say what a UI looks like, and why?

This is a tough one. I know that my answer to this question has cost me at least 1 job. But it was actually a good thing — because the would-be employer’s opinion was fundamentally different from mine, and would’ve been a major source of contention. Fair warning: here be monsters.

UIs are designed by those who commit code.

IMNSHO the correct answer here is the developer; this is the answer I look for. Why? Because so much of what a designer does is consensus-building, and human coordination, it is vital that the UX designer, the hub of all these human interactions, recognize where true power lies: to extend the wheel metaphor, where the rubber meets the road. My friend Tim Rayburn told me once “Decisions are made by those who show up.” Let me be bold then and say similarly “UIs are designed by those who commit code.” When all was said and done your Sketch file went into the garbage, but code was shipped; that’s what the user sees and interacts with. All the rest of us make suggestions (functional specs, business requirements documents, flow charts, user stories, wireframes, prototypes, hi-fi mockups)— but ultimately those writing and committing are making the final call. The crux of it is this: When the designer builds a relationship of trust and accountability with developers everyone’s jobs become exponentially easier. And better. Another way to put this as Tim is wont to say

The .PSD is a lie.

“But Brandon,” you say “we have peer reviews, QA, UAT, checkpoints, sprint reviews, and…”. That’s all great I say. If you guys love it — keep it going. Self-managing, self-correcting teams should create processes of checks and balances that work for them. I prefer to trust my team to execute well and look to me for confirmation rather than approval. In that landscape, those same processes only work better.

[embed]https://twitter.com/diaryofscrum/status/469202961839968257[/embed]

Some might say stakeholders (business, CEOs, POs, etc.) own the final UI look and feel because they write the checks, are in charge of hiring/firing, etc. I’ve heard designers and CEOs alike say things like “They better implement what was designed or they’ll be out of a job!” Really? Where’s the trust? Where’s the empathy? Where’s the respect? Nobody wants to work for or with that person. Don’t be her; don’t hire him. The opposite is just as bad — we shouldn’t bow and bend to the whim of every architect. Many developers feel their sole duty is to say no every time new or changing work is presented. This is an okay checks and balances approach on the surface, but this too lacks trust, empathy, and respect. Nobody wants to work with that person either.

Remember — your UX designer is the hub of interaction for the business, design, and development. If the hub of the wheel doesn’t work well, the whole wheel fails.

I hope you’ve enjoyed Part I of our foray into the Triforce of UX. Stay tuned for Part II: The Triforce of Curiosity. Did I miss anything? Did I not pick your 3 favorites?

What would you say are the 3 most important aspects of a great UX designer?

Read Part II here. Read Part III here.

Empathy In Your (inter)Face

In The Media Equation Reeves & Nass find that people interact and respond emotionally to computers pretty much the same way we interact and respond to other humans. Stephen P. Anderson illustrates pretty much the same thing in his book Seductive Interaction Design:

We identify with (or avoid) certain personalities

Trust is related to personality

Perception & expectations are linked with personality

Consumers choose products that are an extension of themselves

We treat sufficiently advanced technology as though it were human

If the interface is cold, heartless, and unforgiving, we respond to it emotionally the same way we would if we were interacting with a cold, heartless, unforgiving person.

Here are some examples of some notifications that something went wrong. Which do you prefer?

While perhaps technically accurate and helpful to a programmer, the first error is pretty much useless to the regular user, who is left to wonder in dismay at what just happened and what it means to the action they were performing.

This explains in very human-readable terms what probably just happened, what the error code is (for those who might care), and some possible solutions (retype the URL, send them an email).

Here’s another way to look at it

You’re shopping for a spice called Garam Masala. You know what it is (if you don’t, try some!), but many don’t. You walk into the store and ask to be directed to the spices. You spend a few minutes searching but just aren’t able to find any garam masala — so you ask an employee for some assistance.

You: “Pardon me — do you know if you carry garam masala, and if so, where I could find it?”

Employee: “No.”

You: “No? No you don’t carry it or No you don’t know where it is.”

Employee: “Yeah.”

You: “Ummmm…okay.”

vs.

You: “Pardon me — do you know if you carry garam masala, and if so, where I could find it?”

Employee: “Hmmm…I’ve never heard of it. How’s it spelled? Let’s see if we can find it.”

…employee helps you look…

Employee: “I’m sorry — if we do carry it, it doesn’t appear to be in stock. I’ll ask my supervisor about it. Is there a way I can reach you to let you know what I find out? Meanwhile, you might try <Super Spice Store> — they tend to carry a really large variety of spices and you’ll probably find it there.”

You: “Sure — thanks!”

Which scenario would make you feel more at ease? In which scenario are you more likely to return to that store again even though they weren’t able to help you out this time? Which scenario is more like interacting with a heartless, non-empathetic machine?

One example of this that has always bothered me is the PoS system (aptly named) at the grocery store. You slide your card and type in your PIN. When the cashier has finished ringing everything up (if, in fact, you didn’t slide it too early and have to do the whole process all over again) you’re presented with something akin to this:

Total: $123.35

Is this amount okay?

[ YES ] [ NO ]

And every time I want to hit the [ NO ] button. What if I feel that this amount is too costly? What if I really only want to spend $95 instead of $123? Heck, what if I want to pay more? Most of the time, if I’m honest with myself, and the machine, I must hit the [ NO ] button. I can’t though, because I know that’ll probably void the transaction, which is why I’m here in the first place. So, I’m forced to answer ‘yes’ to a question that I adamantly believe should be answered ‘no.’ The machine made me lie, and now I’m not only unhappy about the cost, I’m unhappy about the experience.

What if you at least corrected the English in the question, and instead you were presented with this:

Total: $123.35

Is this the correct amount?

[ YES ] [ NO ]

This is actually what the system is asking for. Now I’m not being asked to lie — but now the computer, whose job it is to add things up since the abacus, is asking ME to do its job for it — add up all the values, calculate sales tax, etc. This doesn’t breed confidence in the system. I could guess, by we pretty much trust the machines to know these things. So now I’m not sure — did everything get rung up correctly? Did my sale items register at sales prices? I don’t know if it’s really correct. Is there an “I don’t know” button? Nope. This message still lacks and I’m forced into answering something I’m not comfortable with.

I LOVE the convenience technology affords us, but it’s not justification to substitute an impersonal experience for a cold, heartless one. We can have convenient tech and warm-n-fuzzy mom-and-pop-shop-style interactions too!

Cause I’ve got an idea!

What if it went down like this…

You’ve swiped your debit card. The system knows who you are now (your customer rewards card is linked to your debit card) and pulls up your recent purchase history etc.

Hey Brandon! Your total today is:

$123.35

Is this amount okay?

[ Sure ] [ Not Really ]

You’re not really feeling the total today, so you click [ Not Really ]

I’m sorry about that. How about this total?

Total: $115.00

Is this amount okay?

[ Sure ] [ Not Really ]

Hey — that’s cool. It just gave you an $8.35 discount! Maybe it’s still too high, and heck, it won’t hurt to try again…you click [ Not Really ].

Dang — I’m really sorry. That’s the best I can do today Brandon.

Total: $115.00

Would you like to continue with your purchase, or come back another time?

[ Continue ] [ Come Back Later ]

Now you’re feeling like you were able to get a deal and have a positive interaction with the (more humane) system. You click [ Continue ].

Thanks for your purchase, Brandon. I’m printing out some relevant coupons that might help you save a bit more next time.

Heck, even if you clicked [ Not Really ] and it straight up said the first time “sorry dude, no deals this time” you’d feel like you’d at least tried and the machine empathized with your lack of desire to part with your money.

You see, as in life, even when the answer is NO, when executed well and empathetically, you can foster good-will and trust with your customer/user which will encourage repeat business. It’s not hard — just inject some personality into those dialog boxes and copy. Breathe some life into those warnings, errors, and success messages. After all, it’s not really the computer we’re interacting with, but the designers and programmers that brought the system into the world.

So all you supermarkets and convenience stores out there with your fancy PoS machines and rewards cards — build me something cool and empathetic that might potentially throw me a bone now and again with some relevant coupons or an immediate savings of a few bucks just to let me know you value me as a customer and understand what my needs and desires are. That would make me RAVE about you to my friends and family and return again and again in the hopes that maybe this time I’ll get the response:

“Hey Brandon, you’ve been a loyal customer over the past few months, so today, your milk is on the house. Have a great day!”

Arrr, Know Yer Personæ

Today the conversation at lunch inspired me to start writing a movie about a Megalodon that travels through time — that’s right, a time-traveling, prehistoric shark. Deal with it. Anyway, in the prologue, there’s a scene with a pirate captain. Oh yeah — it’s got pirates too. Sharks as big as Blue Whales: check. Time Travel: check. Pirates: check. I’m telling you — MEGA blockbuster. So, anyway, this pirate captain is carousing with his, um, cabin-mates, and he senses something is wrong. He grabs his [I have no idea what to put here] and heads up to the deck.

I have quite a bit of life experience. I’ve seen a LOT of movies. I’ve seen quite a few pirate movies. And, for the life of me, I have no idea what the pirate captain grabs when heading to the deck to see what’s wrong with his ship. Does he grab his sword? Does he grab his eyeglass? Does he grab his pants? A coat? I have no clue.

If I were designing software for pirate captains who fight prehistoric sharks, my software would suck. Why? I don’t know enough about how they function and what options they have available to know what item(s) are most important to them in time of potential crisis. I haven’t developed that persona enough to adequately comprehend and empathize with them in order to affect a design capable of responding to or, better yet, anticipating their needs.

If I’m designing a widget for a camping trip — and I make it so that widget requires constant access to wi-fi or cellular data I’ve probably failed. I’ve failed because I’ve not understood the personæ enough to know that they may not (and most likely will not) have access to wi-fi or even a cell signal whilst out and about.

If I’m designing an app for a nurse and it requires to be held with one hand and accessed with the other hand’s index finger, I may have failed. What if the nurse has to be doing task X with his left hand while using the app? Now all he has is his thumb — but I didn’t design it to be used with the thumb, so it’s awkward and slow and causes him to lose focus on his other duty — now Mr. Johnson’s catheter has to be reinserted, and we all know what a curmudgeon Mr. Johnson can be…

Knowing your persona can be a life-saver. I’m not saying you have to know how many kids Cindy has and their ages and favorite Power Puff Girls when designing the icon for the shopping cart button, but knowing that Cindy always has her Fred Meyer rewards card on her could be the difference between frustrating and delighting her. All I’m saying is — know your users/customers/clients what-have-you. Know them better than they know themselves, and you’ll know how to better serve them through your craft.

Now, time to get in the head of a pirate captain…what would he grab…maybe his spare leg? Rum? Lucky amulet? Time to do some ‘user’ research…(suggestions welcome).