Design of Everyday Things [1]
Before I wrote this book, I was a cognitive scientist, interested in how the mind works. I studied human perception, memory, and attention. I examined how people learned, how they performed skilled activities. Along the way, I became interested in human error, hoping that my understanding of error would provide ways to teach people how to avoid mistakes. But then came the nuclear power plant accident at Three Mile Island in the United States, and I was among a group of social and behavioral scientists who were called in to determine why the control-room operators had made such terrible mistakes. To my surprise, we concluded that they were not to blame: the fault lay in the design of the control room. Indeed, the control panels of many power plants looked as if they were deliberately designed to cause errors.
My interest in accidents led me to the study of human-centered development procedures that might eliminate those problems. I spent a sabbatical year in Cambridge, England, at the Medical Research Council’s world-famous Applied Psychology Unit and was continually amused and frustrated by the workings of the building. It was difficult to figure out which light switch controlled what light. Doors were another puzzle: some had to be pushed, some pulled, and at least one required sliding, yet there were no clues to the unwitting person attempting to go through the doorway. Water taps—“faucets” in the United States—were capricious; some sinks had the hot water on the left, some on the right. Moreover, whenever people made errors using these ill-constructed devices, they blamed themselves. What was going on? Why did people blame themselves when a device itself was at fault?
I started to observe how people coped with the numerous devices that populate our lives. In more recent years, my studies have expanded to include aviation safety, complex manufacturing plants, medical error, and a wide range of consumer products such as home entertainment systems and computers. In all these situations, people often find themselves flustered and confused. Worse, serious accidents are frequently blamed on “human error.” Yet careful analysis of such situations shows that the design or installation of the equipment has contributed significantly to the problems. The design team or installers did not pay sufficient attention to the needs of those who would be using the equipment, so confusion or error was almost unavoidable. Whether kitchen stove or nuclear power plant, automobile or aircraft, thermostat or computer, the same problems were present. In all cases, design faults led to human error.
My frustrations while in England caused me to write The Design of Everyday Things, but the problems I encountered there are universal and worldwide. When I wrote the book, I was a research scientist interested in principles of cognition. But I found myself more and more fascinated by the way these principles could be applied to improve everyday life, to minimize error and accident. I changed the direction of my research to focus on applications and design. Eventually I left my university so I could devote myself to the development of products. I joined Apple Computer, first as an “Apple Fellow,” then as vice president of the advanced technology group. I served as an executive at two other companies and then, with my colleague Jakob Nielsen, cofounded a consulting company (the Nielsen Norman group) to apply these ideas to a wider variety of firms, a wider variety of products. It has been exciting to witness the principles in Everyday Things realized in products.
The Book Title: A Lesson in Design
This book has been published under two titles. The first title, The Psychology of Everyday Things—POET—was much liked by my academic friends. The second title, The Design of Everyday Things—DOET—was more meaningful and better conveyed the contents of the book. The editor of the paperback edition explained to me that in bookstores, titles are what readers see as their eyes wander the shelves, skimming the spines. They rely upon the