On a recent trip to Oklahoma to visit my grandparents, I found myself needing wheels to take me the 110 miles from Grove to Tulsa where my co-founder resides.
Grandma Dori generously offered with a grin, “We’re happy to share ours, but are you sure you can handle a Chevy?” I presume the implication was that given my penchant for quick German cars, a Chevy might not pamper me suitably. She had a point.
Not only did the Chevy get me there, in some ways, I enjoyed the drive more than I would have in my own ride. No matter what I wanted to change about the environment—radio station, temperature, cruise control—I was able to do so easily and nearly without thought. Upon my report, my Grandma beamed proudly, “Of course, everything is right where it should be and nothing more than you need.”
This is quite a change over my car, which employs the supposedly useful, over-engineered iDrive system—an output of too many technical wizards and not enough customer input. Or, as my husband like to say, “maximum amount of data obtained in the maximum amount of steps.”
Just because you can build it, doesn’t mean that you should. Products should enhance our lives, not frustrate, or cause us to drive off the road. A friend who owns a newer, more luxurious model than mine had difficulty setting up his universal voice command system. After spending 30 minutes trying to figure it out, he was justifiably perturbed and swearing. Now, whenever he wants to turn on his car, he has to assert, “Jackass!”
I’m not suggesting that I’d like to swap cars with grandma. While the Chevy was intuitive, it lacked a sense of the sublime. What my car lacks in simplicity, it makes up for in handling.
For me, this was a greater lesson in product design.
Somewhere between a 2004 Chevy and a 2006 BMW, lies a brilliant mix of intuitive and sublime.
No matter the product, it should pass this brilliance test.
1. Is it easy to use? With cars, if I have to read the manual before I can turn it on, it fails. If I have to pull over to figure out how to switch from FM to CD it fails. With training and coaching programs, if it contains too many acronyms or jargon, requires big binders of papers, lots of diagrams, charts, models (and a partridge in a pear tree), it will at best, be ignored and, at worst, waste someone’s precious time.
Yet, simplicity alone won’t cut it.
2. It has to connect, provoke, inspire. In my field of human improvement, it has to shake someone awake and leave them yearning for a new way of being, willing to invest considerable time, effort, and discomfort until they develop new habits.
We are all designers.
What are you creating?
How would your customers rate you on the intuitive/sublime measures?
And for anyone in the auto business, you could do worse than hire my grandma for your next design panel.










Conversations for Brilliance

