The EchoUser Experience

Living in San Francisco it’s all too easy to get wrapped up in the social media bubble.  There’s always a new service to use, an iPhone app to try out, a social network to join - it’s a constant game of catch-up, and I have to be honest that some days I positively hate it.

That said, I’m constantly learning about myself and my friends (and total strangers) by being so immersed in all this web 2.0 stuff. Who knew that I’d love broadcasting short messages to the world about what happens to be on my mind (good and bad)? Or that I’d feel compelled to log each entry into a cafe, office, or surf spot with one of my location-based apps?  If you’d asked me 2 years ago, the answer would be have been a definitive “not me!”

But things are different now, and as I adjust to a life where I’m always connected, I’m starting to rub up against some social “seams” I had totally ignored. For example, it turns out that not everyone I know on Facebook wants to know when I’ve “checked in” to a bar or cafe - especially when I change locations a half dozen times a day. Equally surprising is that my friends who use Google Buzz complain about the same, which is weird because it means that they monitor Buzz religiously since I barely ever notice new Buzz notifications!

So while I’m theoretically meant to use these tools with abandon and feel free to send out the minutae of my life to anyone who cares to pay attention (which isn’t always that many people), it turns out that what I actually have to do is carefully tip toe through the social media minefield, censoring myself as I go.

I wonder if social media tools will eventually take into account the social seams they’re potentially bowling right over, and try to maintain a little social order and sensitivity. For now, I’ll be sure to tread lightly…

It’s almost as if the speakers and panelists at South by South West 2010 had all prepared together beforehand. Time and again, no matter what the topic of the panel, the same theme came up again and again:

Gaming is where it’s at.

From the more obvious cases, like Dennis Crowley’s location-based Foursquare app (effectively a multi-player game replete with rewards and badges), to the more esoteric, like crowd-source astrology platform GalaxyZoo, more and more examples of game-based platforms are popping up.

While it’s clear that certain web-based services can benefit from a game-like component given that typical incentive structures simply aren’t there (like the social need to be recognized as a “local”, represented in Foursquare as becoming “Mayor” of a particular place), it gets really interesting if/when applied to other examples. Like tacking on a game component to a hospital’s internal report tracking system to encourage nurse diligence, or rewarding taxi cab drivers for picking up fares on time, or rewarding kids for reading newspaper articles online - the list is endless, which I have to admit is slightly scary.

In the Augmenting Maps with Reality panel, one of the audience members asked what the endgame (pun intended) of this “life as a game” is meant to be: will every part of our lives be represented as a game? Will I be competing - with myself or others - when I go shopping for groceries (10 points for buying kale!), buy a drink at the bar (minus 5 points for the carbs), or meet 3 new people in one day (You’ve received the social butterfly badge!)?

The panelists’ answers were mixed: Dennis Crowley thought it was totally fine that social interactions are rewarded through a game platform, while Flickr information architect Kellan Elliott-McCrea felt that games are an intermediate step - that a world where we need such explicit, constant incentives to do basic activities is likely the poorer for it.  Casey Stengel’s quote, “Most games are lost, not won” comes to mind, along with apocalyptic visions of our Pacman-like future.

Thoughts? Is gaming here to stay, and if so, is it a good thing?

Does not compute image

This morning, while recruiting participants for an upcoming startup usability study, I stumbled upon a mythical creature I didn’t think existed. After chasing it through the underbrush of the internet to no avail, I eventually gave up, disgusted and disheartened, for the creature was gone - potentially forever.

And the creature in question? That rare breed of human who doesn’t have access to a DSL connection.

I know, I know, breathe in deeply - I didn’t think they existed, either. But it turns out that this kind of person is out there, and we have to plan for them accordingly.  More and more I find that people respond to my online recruitment ads, often for a remote study that needs screensharing and the like, without having the necessary technological hardware to actually complete the study. Like that story where from the band of monkeys eventually one will write Shakespeare, sometimes potential participants make it into the pool when they really shouldn’t.

It would be easy to blame the participant - I mean, who doesn’t have DSL access these days in the U.S., anyway? As it turns out, quite a few people don’t, so in the end it really is our bad as user researchers, not the participants. We need to make sure we’re designing studies - and recruitment procedures - that aren’t exclusionary from a technological perspective, even when we’re building a product or service that requires (relatively) advanced technology.

Examples of non-traditional recruitment abound: Etan once stood in a BART station for hours to recruit BART riders, while Mick loitered in a Best Buy (with permission of course) hoping to snag potential wireless hub buyers. The main problem, however, is that these methods, while often very effective, are time consuming - and expensive.

So how to recruit in an internet-ready world, when we’re not all on the same technological page?  Any thoughts? Examples?

Fatal error message in a terminal window

While I understand that command line interface programmers don’t feel like they need to adhere to the same rules as UI designers, I think it would be best if they reconsidered.

Under no circumstances is it necessary for an error message to tell me something was “fatal”. It evokes feelings of panic and makes me feel as though I’ve done something irreversible. In the example above I simply called “git pull” (grab the latest code from the repository) on the wrong folder.  Because that folder wasn’t tracked by git, it doesn’t do anything… it just exits.

Consider using another response, such as “Not a git repository, nothing has been pulled. Are you in the right directory?”. I don’t need to hear about what process was killed or how it died, I just want to know what happened and what I should do about it.

Thanks