counternotions

NewScientist.com reports:

A computer program that emulates the human brain falls for the same optical illusions humans do [Ed. like the White's Illusion example above where the two gray areas actually have the same value].

It suggests the illusions are a by-product of the way babies learn to filter their complex surroundings. Researchers say this means future robots must be susceptible to the same tricks as humans are in order to see as well as us.

Obviously this has certain implications in designing systems that mimic human vision:

Most creators of machine vision try to copy human vision because it is so well suited to a variety of environments. The new findings suggest that if we want to exploit its advantages, we also have to suffer its failings. It will be impossible to create a perfect, superhuman robot that never makes mistakes.

Why do I feel this is somehow reassuring?

Fast Company says:

The Swedish retail giant [Ikea] encourages customers to use fewer bags by charging shoppers 5 cents for each disposable bag they take. (Ikea gives the nickel to American Forests, a nonprofit.) The policy, in effect since mid-March, has already cut bag consumption in the United States by more than 50%, far more than executives had expected… In the United Kingdom, the policy, which started in June 2006, cut bag use by 95%.

Customer behavior modulation through price changes, especially by adding a nominal fee for what used to be “free” is a well known retail strategy. The fee is really a vehicle for highlighting a specific usage pattern.

For example, travelers often leave behind hotel bathrooms in a mess: water splashes all over the place, dirty towels thrown about, toiletries scattered by the sink, toilet paper on the floor, etc. There’s no price incentive to keep it clean, and there’s no penalty for behaving badly. If hotels were to charge, say, a $5 fee for cleaning up the mess, I’m sure most customers would likely start behaving more like they do at home.

Out of sight, out of mind. The fee is the price of focus.

Therein lies a lesson for us designers.

I am one of those designers who gets physically ill when confronted with a particularly egregious design mistake or a complex problem that assaults my design sensibilities. My heart rate quickens. I get sweaty. Sometimes I get a red flush on my face and neck. Usually, followed by a headache, mild nausea and general malaise until I manage to solve the problem. I’ve lived with this for a long time and even publicly discussed it on the Internets on several occasions.

There are some advantages, though. Especially for my clients. I am highly motivated to solve their design problems, even if it’s just to make myself feel better.

Until the solution is at hand, I’m angry. Angry at the problem. Angry at the people who created it in the first place. Angry at others who didn’t try harder. Angry at technological barriers. Angry at our lack of understanding of cognitive processes. Angry at the tax it places on my enjoyment of life and the burden it dumps on users. Anger is often my motivator to slice through design problems.

The payoff is the heightened feeling one gets when the problem is solved…all the more sweeter as it comes after an anger-coated adrenaline rush.

Apparently, I’m not alone:

This is why most dorks and nerds fail to launch start-ups that last. The technology is good and the applications can be fun but they approach a problem the wrong way: to a nerd, a problem is fun. It just doesn’t make them angry enough.

Product managers worrying about adoption curves for their new application should stop concentrating on features and look to the emotions and the experiences of their customers. Consumers change behaviour through anger. Skype, for instance, tapped into a general feeling in the market of “I’m angry at my telco”.

Jeff Bonforte, a senior director at Yahoo!, talks about anger driving innovation in a podcast at ITConversations.

I’d love to know if anybody else feels the same way.