Re: Cars & Smart Screens

In the first week of March, I wrote about the devastating misapplication of modern technology in cars, and the ample opportunity for car manufacturers to improve the capabilities of rear-view mirrors.

Today, Kevin points me to this Co.Design article which proposes the same: Use cameras, reduce/obliterate blind spots. The article also talks about reduced drag, which I think is a relatively minor issue, and about many governments’ legal requirements for cars to have side view mirrors installed, which could be a substantial roadblock. Nonetheless, it sounds like we’re headed down the right path.

 

I Show Up Early

An overwhelming number of my friends and colleagues show up 5-15 minutes late to everything.

I think it’s somewhat endemic to a certain class of modern busy person, and for a long time, it felt to me like a very toxic problem. When colleagues showed up late to my meetings, that tardiness was an affront. A theft of my time. Maybe a competitive power move — he who shows up last has the most valuable time.

I don’t think these people are really that competitive. Rather, I’m of the impression that they just inherently don’t think this is a problem which a brusque, halfhearted “sorry I’m late” can’t solve.

There’s plenty of ways you might deal with the tardiness problem — rewards and punishments, carrots and sticks. I’ve tried the stick and found very, very limited success. Even the most respectful confrontation imaginable ultimately boils down to my counterparts saying “Wait, you’re really confronting me about 5 minutes?” which creates an even worse working relationship than you had to begin with. Again — you’re reprimanding people who don’t appreciate the problem in the first place.

You might try to replicate the problem and out-tardy the other party, but I can’t see how that’s possibly productive. If anything, it either falls under extreme passive-aggression, or otherwise, simply reinforces among group members that tardiness is an acceptable behavior.

So I take the opposite approach: I show up early.

I think there’s two real core problems.

First: The psychological concept of Present-Biased Preferences. Most humans would trade a little pain later for a little pleasure now. Accordingly, there’s a weird part of your brain which says it’s a good deal for you to read one more Buzzfeed article (okay, twelve more) even though you’re thus overwhelmingly likely to be late and have to apologize to your peers.

Second: People are fundamentally bad at appraising their own commute times. It might not even be their fault. In my experience, Google Maps systemically underestimates how long it takes for me to get places. And it might not even totally be Google’s fault, either — Google says it takes 15 minutes to get from the front door of my apartment building to the front door of the office, but it doesn’t account for elevators or for me packing my bag and putting my shoes on and setting up my headphones and finding my keys. (And again, I want to finish these last twelve Buzzfeed things.) If I’m trying to time my arrival for 9:00am on the button, of course I’m going to be slightly late.[ref]I might argue here that even though it’s not totally Google’s fault, it’s nonetheless a failure on their part if they’re consistently misguiding me.[/ref]

So again, I show up early. And I bring my Kindle.

Showing up early to meetings, lunches, whatever, is actually insanely liberating. It’s where I get most of my reading done. It eliminates a tremendous amount of stress in my day-to-day life. My counterparts arrive apologetic, harried, and nervous, but I appear calm and ready.

My hope is that in consistently highlighting the benefits of promptness I’ll shed new light on the issue. Instead of trading a little pain later for a little pleasure now, I’m saying “Why not have both pleasure before the meeting and at start time?” I can’t totally fix my faulty commute appraising, but instead of it adversely affecting the entire group, a bad estimate now only dips into an individual’s reading time which is much less costly and much less noticeable. And ultimately, instead of “are you’re really scolding me over five minutes,” I’ll elicit “wow, I didn’t realize how valuable your five minutes are.”

On a related note: I all of a sudden need a few more new books to read.

 

 

My Favorite Product of All-Time is a Sponge

Surely this title can’t be serious.

I’m a 26-year old red-blooded American male consumer, and my favorite product is a kitchen accessory. Honest.

Here’s some features of my favorite product:

  • No touch-screen
  • No buttons or flashing lights
  • Can’t access or download adult movies
  • Doesn’t play Angry Birds
  • Not connected to other people or other sponges via Facebook

Despite all those shortcomings, and more, I love this product. This should all probably surprise you, or upset you. It should certainly upset every major consumer products manufacturer. Except one: The company that makes the George Foreman Grill, and concurrently, the Foreman Grill Sponge.

Yep. That’s it.

Here’s why I love the Foreman Grill Sponge (FGS):

First: The FGS takes a real (but incredibly subtle) problem and absolutely, positively obliterates it.

It doesn’t fuss around with trying to be cool or flashy. That’s often a hallmark of a solution in search of a problem. The nascent phenomenon of TVs and phones with curved screens is an example of this. You’re inclined to say “Wow!” because it’s different and heavily advertised and maybe if you use it you’ll win favor with someone you’re attracted to. I doubt anyone said “Wow!” when they saw their first FGS.

The Foreman Grill is prone to collecting the burnt residue of the foods you’ve just cooked, and essentially needs to be cleaned after every use. I believe when the Foreman Grill originally came out, it didn’t come with any cleaning paraphernalia — you used the sponge you already had in your kitchen.

If I asked, back in the day, “What’s the worst aspect of your Grill?” to a hundred Foreman Grill owners, I’d guess the heavy majority would say “cleaning it is super annoying.” If I followed-up and asked “What would you fix,” my guess is the responses would blame the range (“make the range less sticky!”) or blame the user (“make me a better cook!”), but never the sponge. The sponge is a known entity; everyone above age 5 is an expert at using it, and it should hardly be blamed for any of this mess because it was still in the cupboard while you were stupid and not paying attention and subsequently overcooking the chicken. I’m sure if you asked “How do you rate your sponging experience,” respondents would simply say “yeah, it’s fine.”

Here’s the difference that Human-Centered Design brings to the table: I wouldn’t ask that second question, “What would you fix?”

Instead, I’d watch users go through the entire process of cooking a meal on their Foreman Grills. And under those circumstances, what should stick out plainly is the aggravated way home-chefs use their sponges to clean. The sponge is flat and designed to clean flat things. The Grill’s range has a very distinct bulbous shape, like this:

foreman-grill-1

As a result, with a regular sponge it’s relatively easy to clean the most-exposed surfaces of the grill, and relatively impossible—requiring clawing with the corner of the sponge (damaging it), using your fingernails (dirtying those), and no shortage of foul language (disappointing your parents)—to get the recessed nooks and crannies. It’s doable, but it’s not pleasant.

Enter the FGS: A sponge which contours exactly to the grill’s humps. It’s infinitely better at reaching the nooks, and moreover, it just feels mechanically and cathartically nicer to slide perfectly along the grill’s rails. The same “Ahhh” feeling you get when you place the correct piece in the middle of a puzzle, or just generally when things fit perfectly into other things. Product functionality: Massively improved. Product experience: Massively improved. Learning Curve: Completely intuitive. Those are the marks of an insanely great product.

Incidentally, I once wrote this much on my short-lived side website, only there I used 20 words instead of roughly 700.

Second: Like any good Made-for-TV product, here’s the part where I say “But Wait—There’s More!!”

Sponges are a heavily commoditized product. I doubt even Martha Stewart has a favorite sponge brand. (Maybe she prefers lavender sponges to blue?) Perhaps I’m just not a sophisticated sponge consumer, but I know even paper towels try to differentiate in their mopping ability, thickness, and quilted-ness.

I looked on Amazon quickly. (There doesn’t seem to be a sponge-equivalent of quilted-ness, alas.) Depending on the bulk quantity you’re buying, sponges cost $0.50 to $1.00 per unit. The FGS, on the other hand, seems to typically come in packs of three, and sponges cost $2 apiece, or $6.00 total. Which means they’re convincingly commanding a 100%-300% premium on an item that has the most basic, obvious, and clearly copy-able product innovation possible.

And that, to me, is absolutely beautiful.

 

Re: Catfé

A throwaway idea from my Running Shoes & Business Design post:

“What if there was a coffee shop where she could get work done, but also there were a bunch of kittens around that she could play with?”

We kind of handily decided that the idea was a wash. (Though I still stand by the name being divine.)

And yet, here we are. “Cat Café popping up in NYC this week.

Lessons:

  1. The world is bereft of good creative design. Wait, this is a terrible lesson.
  2. Don’t be afraid of pitching and tinkering with ideas, even if you think they’re stupid and you’ll get laughed at. Sometimes you’ll stumble upon something great.
  3. Worth repeating: Don’t be afraid of pitching and tinkering with ideas, even if you think they’re stupid and you’ll get laughed at. Sometimes a really esoteric idea will stretch the conversation’s comfort zone into new areas and possibilities. Maybe Catfé was just the jolt (or even, just the laugh) we needed to allow Black Belt Karate Shoes to enter into the dialogue.

The Buenos Aires Update

I’m humbled that Fritz and I had the opportunity to run press coverage for Lollapalooza: Argentina this year. You can read up on our formal report of the festival over at Consequence of Sound.

Music festivals aside, I thought I’d put together a short list of the most peculiar, odd, memorable, remarkable aspects of the trip. Some things to do, some things to look for, some things to think about. Sort of a list of reflections, sort of a travel guide.

Here’s my (of course) Top 11:

1. Everyone loves Jamiroquai. He was on the radio, he was in the background at bars, he was on the playlist at house parties, the live band we saw Sunday played a (tremendous) cover, a friend of ours had his logo tattooed onto his arm.

I mean, Jamiroquai’s great. Listen to this. You might also recognize him from Napoleon Dynamite. The thing is, Jamiroquai’s last album came out 4 years ago, and his last worthwhile album I’d argue was A Funk Odyssey which was released in 2001. Not to say that sort of popularity model is impossible—Daft Punk managed to stay highly relevant throughout the twelve muted years between Discovery (2001) and Random Access Memories (2013). It’s just surprising.

2. When you go out, you’re going to start drinking at 8 or 9pm, you’re going to get dinner at 11 or 12, and you’re going to stay out until something like 7am. It’s a lifestyle choice, it’s probably not a healthy one, it’s certainly not a sustainable one, but it’s a thrill and it’s what all the cool kids are doing.

3. Everyone still uses old-school, heavy-duty style keys for their apartments. Like this. These are super cool. Until you’ve left the keys on your host’s kitchen counter upon your departure because you’re switching to your next homestay, and find that for some reason, you need a key to unlock the front door of the apartment building from the inside.

…So we got stuck inside the apartment lobby twice. I don’t know, I thought that was funny.

4. Pizza is a big deal in Buenos Aires—which obviously makes me incredibly happy—but the most prolific chain is called “Kentucky Pizza.”

…What the hell is “Kentucky” pizza? That doesn’t make sense. I know there’s Kentucky bourbon, Kentucky chicken, and Kentucky (Louisville) baseball bats. There’s no such thing as Kentucky pizza. We made Kentucky pizza jokes relentlessly, which all fell flat because none of our local friends could commiserate on how preposterous a concept this was.

In any event, Argentinian pizza most closely resembles Chicago style. Not quite as thick. Very heavy on mozzarella. Reliably delicious, worthy of a meal (especially if you’re hungry at 5am).

5. Speaking of jokes: We found that poking fun at “Paco” was the only joke you can consistently make as a gringo who can barely speak Spanish. And we tried, frequently, to be funny.[ref]Arguably the problem is that I’m actually not very funny in the first place.[/ref]

But Paco, a horrific street drug with ingredients including cocaine waste, rat poison, and kerosene, unified as a concept both mutually understood and utterly ridiculous.

6. Using the Argentine Peso pretty much felt like the equivalent of going to an amusement park and being given Disney Dollars.

Some illustrations:

  • I think we managed to find two restaurants during the entire trip that would accept credit cards. I’m told that businesses don’t want to wait to get paid at the end of the month by the credit cards because the peso will probably be worth less by then.
  • Nobody—not Bank of America, not the official exchange companies in the airport whose ONE JOB it is to execute this exact transaction—accepts Argentine Pesos in exchange for USD.
  • The stated exchange rate from USD to ARP was about 1:8, but the effective exchange rate was about 20% better if you go to the black market… which, you know, is in the middle of town and out in the open. There’s one street with just a bunch of guys yelling “cambio!” at anyone who walks by.
  • My personal favorite: At these currency exchanges, there’s a better exchange rate for $100’s than there is for smaller bills. Come on… that’s just silly, right?

7. Bomba de Tiempo on Monday nights is utterly sublime and exactly the kind of experience you should seek any time you would ever want to go to a foreign country. Oozes with local culture, suitable for pretty much all ages. There’s space in the back if you want to be quieter and less sweaty, no space in the front if you want to get dancy and meet people, and it’s a totally unique spectacle that’s impossible to do justice by sharing a Youtube clip or a photo.

8. The McDonald’s downtown serves a hamburger with an egg on it during lunch hours. I don’t even remember what it was called (McTasty? McHuevo?). All I know is it’s exactly what I’ve always wanted from McDonald’s. It’s a favorite travel tradition of mine to explore the local Mickey D’s menu, which consistently surfaces items that are simultaneously home-y and otherworldly.

Though I guess if that’s not your style, go to a parilla—a cheap, hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint—and eat whatever they’re cooking because it’ll be cheap and savory and fun and an extremely local experience.

Though maybe that’s also not your style. In which case…

9. You can go to Cabrera and that’s all well and good, and everybody knows about it including all our friends who’ve visited Buenos Aires and wrote us guide notes, including Fritz’s guidebooks, including the locals, the cab drivers, everyone. And it was good. Worth a trip because it’s a fine steak and it’ll cost you like $15 USD ($30, I suppose, if you want side dishes and want to split an entire bottle of wine).

But for the real deal, for possibly the best steak I’ve ever eaten, you have to go to a place that nobody had even heard of except for one in-the-know friend. The restaurant is called Dada.

Sacha writes:

You have to eat the Lomo Dada / get it ‘bien Jugoso’ / write all that down / it’s a filet over au gratin potatoes / it’s the best meal on the fucking planet.

And he’s right. He’s absolutely 75% right. Because I’m an idiot and didn’t listen to instructions and didn’t write it down, and once we got there I had to guess which menu item to order, so we wound up with one Lomo Dada and one Ojo de Bife.[ref]Also because I know he reads this and it’s funnier to not give him 100% correctness, just on principle.[/ref] It turns out the Ojo de Bife was equally transcendent.

In any event: Dada is the one completely non-interchangeable thing in my list. No other guide will tell you to go here, and there’s no way you can proxy it by eating something else at a different restaurant. Go here. Better yet, go here at 2am when you and everyone else at the other tables have already had a few drinks.

I’m loathe to give Sacha’s contact info out semi-publicly, but feel free to send royalty checks my way addressed to him and I’ll forward them accordingly.

10. The people are amazing. I occasionally feel like kind of a sap for saying this, but really. The amount of generosity and hospitality we received from nearly complete strangers was utterly ridiculous.

Ben offered to meet us at our hostel on Day 1 to help us get our footing. Celina took out an entire afternoon to offer a guided tour in the footsteps of Borges. We met up with Rocio & her crew four times. Barbie invited us to a show she was performing and also graciously hosted us for an odd night we were left without other housing. Luke gave us an invite and the password to a divinely cool secret house party. Ivi picked us up at the hostel and drove us across town to go out drinking and clubbing. That was within the span of a week, and I’m sure I’m forgetting other acts and actors of kindness. In any event: I send them my deepest, truest thanks.

Also worth calling out my friends Mel, Luciana, Kate, Seth & Steve, Sacha, and Nelly, whose contacts and local insights proved indispensable. Thanks and cheers to you guys, too.

11. To go out with a, erm, punch: Apparently, Captain Falcon has Argentinian heritage—and a history of Captains in his lineage. You can check out his ancestor’s tomb in the Recoleta Cemetery. Here’s a picture. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

054

Cars & Smart Screens

I’d been reading a lot lately about the implementation of touch screens in automobile dashboards — and in particular, how grave a danger this particular use of technology is. In sum: Touch screens have no haptic feedback — when you use a touch screen dash, you have to look where you press rather than being able to blindly feel for the correct button or dial present on a traditional dashboard. Distracted driving = accidents = problem.

Some folks are trying to solve this by inventing a better touch screen dashboard. The same Forbes author suggests a dash where key functions have hardware buttons and auxiliary functions move to the touch screen. TechCrunch raves about a solution where you don’t have to look at the touch screen, but you still have to learn five all-new, unnatural gestures — which makes it seem like operating the dash becomes a skillset akin to operating a stick shift.

Renault is building a concept car where, while you’re driving, you can use a touch screen to operate a remote toy helicopter. Which is…uh… wow.

Suffice it to say, I think all of the endeavors above — not just helicopter-pocalypse — are steps in the wrong direction. Emblematic examples of technology looking for a problem to solve, rather than solving for a problem already outstanding.

The current-day dashboard doesn’t really have an interface problem. Ask anyone aged 18-68 who’s ever been behind the wheel how to adjust the radio, and they’ll probably do it naturally. Dash board interfaces are already pretty smart and comprehensive.[ref]Maybe you could make a case that we’d benefit from a standardized set of dash controls across all cars — the same way all cars have the same interface for pedals and steering wheels. Or point out how many key functions are moving from buttons on the dash to buttons on the steering wheel. Both fair arguments. But that’s not today’s point.[/ref]

On the other hand.

What if I told you that every single car today already has — not one, but three — screens built in which are genuinely stupid, and are the direct cause of an incalculable number of traffic accidents? And furthermore, relatively simple technology could probably completely fix these performance issues?

Thousands of lives, millions of dollars in damages saved. You’d think automakers would probably jump at an opportunity like this, right? Nah. Instead, they’re finding cutesy ways to make questionable improvements on volume knobs.

I’m not about to propose we add electronics and diagnostics to the windshield. God knows the last thing we need[ref]Well, there was that whole remote helicopter thing…so maybe second-to-last.[/ref] is another colorful distraction in the driver’s direct line of sight.

Rather, here are the dumb screens I’m thinking of:

You might not have thought of these as “screens,” because they traditionally go by a different name: “mirrors.” But I see these as screens — as interfaces — all the same. And mirrors, as things go, are especially dumb.

For example:

  • Isn’t it dumb that you have to rely on tricks of light to judge the presence of traffic around you?
  • Isn’t it dumb that you have to adjust these screens every time someone who’s taller or shorter takes a turn driving the car?
  • Isn’t it dumb that these screens can be blinding if hit with headlights at night?
  • Isn’t it dumb that one of the screens is explicitly inaccurate and says “Objects may be closer than they appear?”
  • Isn’t it dumb that, even after all of those hurdles, these screens are still wildly unreliable, and have blind spots which you can only avoid by turning your head completely away from the road in front of you to double-check?

Sounds like a pretty ripe opportunity for progress. My solution (like pretty much all the best solutions) is painfully simple:

  1. Rear-facing cameras.
  2. LCD screens swapped in for these mirrors.
  3. Connect (1) to (2).

Totally solved, no? Let me reiterate: We’re talking about completely obliterating blindspots on cars. You could easily position the cameras around the hood of the car to form a perfect viewing radius. If you’ve ever used a television you’ll know that LCD screens are clearly viewable by people of all sizes, and are also good at the nominal task of not blinding people.

So what’s the holdup? Can’t be a cost thing; we’ve already got high-quality cameras in all of our ~$X00 cell phones, so they can’t be prohibitive. Can’t be a reliability thing; our cars already rely on a litany of other electronics just as likely to default. Can’t be a durability thing; we’ve already got jumbotrons in outdoor sports stadiums that hold up fine against the elements (and besides, side-view mirrors only have to be outside the car because of the tricks-of-light thing — the new smart screens could easily be located inside the cabin and work just fine).

Look, technology is great. Imagination is great. It’s admittedly wrong of me to harshly criticize the Renault prototype, which is so clearly a concept car designed to inspire creativity and which will assuredly never see the light of day.

But the best innovations are the ones that solve real problems, first and foremost, method of implementation be damned. Ford SUVs save untold anguish by truly understanding a unique and universal car use-case and thus enabling drivers to open their trunks hands-free. And I save untold lives by re-framing the concept of a “screen” and thus opening new opportunities for interface. No 31st-century technology required.

The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread

I think I’ve always wanted to write a post with that title.

As many of my friends — and especially my food-enthused colleages at Farmigo — are acutely aware, I’m a sandwich kind of guy.

What especially piqued the interest of my Farmigo crew, though, was the fact that I’d tend to eat the same exact sandwich for lunch every day of the week: Turkey, ham, swiss, hummus, with some week-to-week variation.

I don’t progressively benefit from eating the same meal several days in a row.[ref]This isn’t going On Fire we’re talking about here.[/ref] Rather, it’s the result of my own sandwich hacking: I figured out that I could cut down precipitously on sandwich-making process time if I made a week’s worth of sandwiches all at once as soon as I unpacked my groceries.[ref]Here’s Brian Regan who better articulates all the time I’m saving.[/ref]

Recently I took another critical look at my sandwich-making process, and as the post title states, I literally came upon the best thing since sliced bread.

Here it is:

Tirtollas

The Tortilla. It’s AWESOME.

Here’s why:

  1. Since I’m just going to roll everything up at the end, I can be even lazier about building my sandwich — I don’t need to fold oblong-shaped slices of turkey to fit my rectangular bread.
  2. On a related, but subtly distinct note: Sandwiches prepared tortilla-style have walls. In the past I’ve never really invested in complications like tomatoes, which on a normal sandwich are all but guaranteed to slide around, fall out, or leave one really strange bite at the tail end. But now, an entire world of slippery supplements is possible. (Thanks for reminding me, Peter.)
  3. I know exactly how many sandwiches I can make. Tortillas come in packs of 4, 6, 8 — you name it. I have no idea how many slices are in a loaf of bread. I can’t imagine there’s an industry standard (though at least the bread gods all seem to have agreed that there should be an even number). And I’m not about to sit there and count individual slices by looking through the plastic bag.
  4. No crust. I’m over the hurdle of eating the crust on the individual slice of bread, but I still don’t like the crusty slices at the ends of the loaf. I throw them out, which makes me feel bad because it’s clearly wasteful. But at the same time, why should I subject myself to a clearly inferior — and inherently avoidable — sandwich experience on at least a weekly basis?
  5. You know what the absolute worst part is about bread? It’s the crumbs. Crumbs which fall out of nowhere and spill everywhere. Crumbs which wind up spread all over the counter just densely enough to be a clear nuisance but not enough to really merit cleaning up. Crumbs which are magnetically attracted to the little cracks underneath the keys on your keyboard if you so much as think about taking a bite out of your sandwich and you’re standing anywhere in the same timezone as your computer. Tortillas? No crumbs.

Apparently, NASA feels the same way. I suppose they’ve been too busy playing with the dirt on Mars to clue the rest of the planet in on the fact that they knew the best thing since sliced bread — and have been using it for over 30 years.

Or maybe they just figured “The best thing since flour tortillas” doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as easily.

Credit Card Design, Pt. IV

In November 2012 I wrote about how I’d re-design a credit card. The overarching premise:

  • Rearrange a few card elements to better suit actual card use cases
  • Remove clutter as much as possible
  • Physical and visual design which feels unique and stands out

My mockups:

clack bard front

clack bard back

A year and a half later, I saw that Visa launched its own Black Card.

visa_card_front

visa_card_back

Many of the similarities are uncanny.

  1. Visa’s Black Card is highly minimalist in design
  2. Making the card stand out from a visual and physical perspective is a huge selling point. The implementation differed slightly. My design offered punched-out numbers. Visa’s (ahem, “patent pending”) offering is made of stainless steel
  3. Getting the name “Black Card” right was kind of easy and straightforward. The Visa logo was a little more of a gambit, and the similarities here were a pleasant surprise
  4. I correctly pointed out that the “24-hour” label is superfluous on the 24-hour service number — if you don’t tell me when I can’t call, I’m just going to call whenever. Accordingly, Visa’s 24-hour Concierge number makes no mention on the card of the fact that it’s an all-hours line. I’m not sure why Visa’s card also lists Cardmember Care and International Collect numbers — I’d think there would really be no reason for a cardholder to want to call anyone besides their super-premium concierge…but maybe this is a regulatory thing

A few notable differences:

  1. Visa’s card isn’t really optimized for new use cases like mine was. Again: I moved the Credit Card Number, Expiration Date, and CV2/Pin to one side so it’s easy for you to reference all three at once when you’re filling out an online checkout form, and I moved the Name and Signature to the same side so that the cashier at a brick & mortar store could reference both at once when he was checking your identity. In Visa’s version, you’d still need to flip the card and reference both sides, adding a step in each use case
  2. I’m disappointed that Visa’s design says “BLACK CARD” in bold on the front. I made the point last time that truly great minimalist design should speak for itself, noting that the iPhone doesn’t need to say “Apple iPhone” on the front anywhere and you still know what it is. The Visa logo is also still on the front, though perhaps this is a regulatory thing which can’t be fought
  3. I’m also disappointed that on Visa’s card you’re still required to have a manual signature. This grey box takes up a ton of space and is kind of clunky. Again, perhaps a regulatory thing
  4. I really didn’t put much thought into the auxiliary benefits of the card — whereas Visa touts things like a members-only magazine, VIP airport lounge visits, the aforementioned 24-hour concierge service, and so on. I’m not really bothered by this — that’s all more service design than product design, and as such wasn’t really the point of my exercise back in ’12

 

Six Thoughts on Longform (Print) Media

Some tablesetting to make sure we start from the same page:

  1. “Print is Dead; Long Live Print” etc., according to pundits everywhere.
  2. I used to work in print. So you might argue that I’m biased. I’d argue that I’m just passionate about the space.

Given the above, I find myself thinking about the future of print media quite frequently. I wanted to present a few thoughts.

First: We need to better support the idea of “progress.” Not “progress” in the chronological or Darwinian sense, but “progress” in the sense of “how much of this article do I still need to read?”

Right now, if you want to write something on the internet longer than 140 characters, your best bet for success is a Top 20 list. Buzzfeed.com nails it on this. Cracked.com had its heyday, too.

There are plenty of arguments for why lists work. Here’s a list article on why list articles work. (Wow, so meta.) It argues that lists make for attention-grabbing headlines. You can also argue that it breaks content up into bite-size chunks, which people need because they’re theoretically now more distraction-prone.

Here’s my favorite feature — by far — of list-based content: It gives me a progress bar. It affords me a guess as to how long this is going to take and how far I’ve come as I’m poring in. So when I’m reading something like, I don’t know, 10 Ways Wall Street is Just Like Sesame Street, I have an internal sense of how close I am to completion. I’m not actively monitoring it, but I’m passively aware of it.

And as enjoyable as it is to read lists, the pleasure pales in comparison to the euphora of completing a list.

For a regular internet article, it’s rather difficult to gauge how much reading you’ve got to do. Even list articles that aren’t all quick hits like “Here’s 20 Cat GIFs!” are tough to gauge. (In case you’re wondering now, you’re about 20% done with this blog post.)

Classic print used to have this baked in. You didn’t need explicitly need a progress bar — you could gauge it yourself by observing the the weight and size of the pages.

A few platforms that do make it easy — or otherwise leverage the idea of “progress” –exceedingly well:

  1. Medium.com.  It’s the only place on the internet that comes to mind where each article has an expected time length explained right up front. This article about LEGOs is going to take you ~5 minutes to read. Not that I expect you to set a stopwatch before opening it. But I do expect your internal clock will guide you, and that you’ll feel satisfied when you complete your task within the allotted time.
  2. Bleacherreport.com. They do this maniacal thing with lists where they’ll write “Page X of 34” at the top of a 33-page article, and I’ll be so driven to complete the list that even when I’m on what’s clearly the last page (for example, the Seahawks were the #1 team in the NFL Power Rankings) I’m still driven to go to the next page — and will subsequently find myself on the next article.
  3. The Amazon Kindle has a progress bar at the bottom of every document to let me know what page I’m on or my percentage completion. It’s delightful.
  4. Feed readers, like feedly.com. Feedly explicitly tells me I’ve got four unread articles left from TechCrunch. It automatically counts down as I careen through each update, and it automatically repopulates as the day goes on and new content is posted. Finally arriving at “TechCrunch (0)” ? Zen.

Second: Embrace the Blockbusters. That’s the term coined by a really smart person I know to refer to superstars. Everything in media today revolves around the biggest, brightest 1% of talent. ESPN gets this, and it’s why they run a wildly disproportionate number of stories on LeBron James and Johnny Manziel compared to their respective athletic peers.

In the context of print, I understand there’s some tension. Is the “Blockbuster” the publication — say, Rolling Stone — or is it the author — say, Matt Taibbi?

I think the world is moving in a direction where the authors are becoming the kings, and the smart media entities are embracing and investing in the blockbuster authors — which ensures that they’ve still got skin in the game.

Platforms that get this idea really well:

  1. ESPN. Who realized they had a blockbuster on their hands in Bill Simmons, and responded by giving him his own entire website in Grantland.com.
  2. ESPN, again. Who realized Nate Silver was a burgeoning blockbuster, so they hired him and are presently partnering with him to relaunch FiveThirtyEight.com.

Third: We need to better embrace the idea of being an “archive.” Back in print’s heyday you could print Yesterday’s News and accurately describe it as “Today’s News.” Classically, this was called a “Newspaper,” and classically, the primary value proposition was something like “this is the news as up-to-the-moment and relevant as possible.” It’s obvious now that technology has supplanted newsprint on the element of speed, which has consequently led to the masses writing off print.

So we need to re-consider the present and potential benefits of print. And where I think the medium really shines is in its ability to archive and catalog content. The heavy majority of online shortform content is ephemeral. It’s nearly impossible for me to look up a tweet I wrote a year ago — not that I’d really want to. Longform, however, affords the magical opportunity of being linked temporally. The New York Times has an archive dating back to 1851 — searchable on their site and I think at the public library.

Here’s what I’m also getting at: The difference of One Day is a pretty significant deal when we’re talking in terms of breaking stories. But when we’re talking in terms of archiving stories, the difference of a day pales in comparison to the importance of proper thought and consideration, of illustration, of context. For Longform to be successful, I think it really must harp on capturing “This is the complete picture of the way your world was at this point in time,” and defer to shortform media for the breaking stuff. With that perspective, I think I can better stomach the idea of waiting a day in exchange for assurances that A) This is important, and B) It’s been given careful thought and vetted for perspective.

A few platforms that do capture the idea of archiving well:

  1. Grantland.com. They produce the Grantland Quarterly, which is largely the same exact content that was already published on their website — but it’s revitalized with elegant graphics and print setting, and contextualized under the premise of “this is what it felt like to observe sports & pop culture for this 3-month window of time.” I think Pitchfork.com is moving into the same territory.
  2. Feed readers, like feedly.com. There’s a big difference between this and the social news aggregator types that seem to be en vogue these days — things like Flipboard, Prismatic, Twitter. With those, it’s nearly impossible to track and consume everything published by the sources that are most important to me. You can do it if you’re on the platform all the time. I’m not, because I have things to do. Feed readers let me pick the voices I want to hear and ensure I get all of it — I feel lost if I’ve missed even a single update from my favorite writers.

Fourth: Embrace more modern technology. For years we’ve been treating these computer screens as if they’re just iridescent pieces of paper. Which they’re not. Screens can do things besides put black words on white backgrounds. Things that make reading a better experience than anything even possible on paper. They can also do a lot of things which make reading a worse experience, so we’ll have to be careful.

Many people argue that screens make reading longform untenable because it’s unnatural to stare at what’s essentially a big, flat lightbulb for long stretches of time. I have to emphatically disagree here. Because otherwise the movie and TV industries would be dust.

Right now GIFs are en vogue. They’re prone to being cheesy and extreme (again, we have to be careful) — I wouldn’t expect a GIF-illustrated article to ever be published by an upstanding news source without derailing any sense of prestige and credibility.

But then… there’s cinemagraphs. Which are GIFs… but elegant. Cinemagraphs.com has a bunch. iwdrm.tumblr.com has a bunch from movies.  They’re subtle, and often, beautiful.

wab cindow

There’s also HTM5, now — which better than anything up until this point gives us the power to really upend the idea that the screen is a piece of paper.

A few places that get this idea:

  1. Pitchfork.com. I link to their Daft Punk Cover Story quite often. (Here it is again.) It does so much, so well, and it’s the best digital experience I’ve ever had reading close to 4,000 words in a single sitting.
  2. Rolling Stone once published something similar.
  3. New York Times’ Snow Fall is the piece that started this whole conversation.
  4. The aforementioned Cinemagraph repositories.

Fifth: We need to think really critically about Product Placement. I know. Sounds sketchy. And dangerous. Nobody wants to threaten the integrity of their voice. I’m not proposing that.

I’m not the biggest fan of traditional display ads. They were fine and enrapturing when the idea was invented some 100+ years ago. If anything’s changed since then, it’s not our collective attention spans, it’s our ability to tune out non sequitur advertising. We’ve just got more experience doing it now.

I think longform is the last major medium to really adopt product placement, and it’s killing profit potential. Why is print so far behind? Arguably it’s because it’s more natural to employ product placement in other media. In Back to the Future II, Marty McFly isn’t just outfitted with shoes and a hoverboard, he wears Nike HyperDunks and rides a Mattel hoverboard. Maybe it’s easier to place product without appealing to or breaking the principal of Checkhov’s Gun — the idea that every element mentioned in a narrative should be necessary and irreplaceable. You can get away with flashing Marty’s Nike sneakers on-screen; it’d be far more difficult to surface in longform print without the reference feeling blatant and Checkhov-ey. If I’m reading BttF2: The Novel, I can get by on simply assuming Marty’s wearing generic sneakers; in BttF2: The Movie, he needed to be wearing something anyway, it might as well have been Nikes.

We recognized this gap years ago when I was running Eleven, and started developing initiatives to address it. I’m tremendously proud of our work with Scion, where we created a concept that was intrinsically linked to the car, and afforded ourselves the opportunity to talk about the car (which was thus a Checkhov’s gun) without having to force it, without it being a distraction, and without it hampering the objectivity of the story — which was about cities, adventure, and music.On the road againA few places that do this really well:

…umm, nothing else in print really comes to mind. I could be missing something; I’m not omniscient/clairvoyant. Maybe you’ll consider something like Coors Light Cold Hard Facts, where the brand is somewhat relevant in the title but the beer really has little to do with the content contextually.

A recent trend is something called “native advertising” — these are the ads you’ll see if you use Facebook and Twitter on your smartphone, called “native” because they’re perched right inside your (otherwise content-filled) news stream. This is close.

A sponsored venue or setting seems to be the most reasonable opportunity for product placement. This was our angle with Scion — the venue was the car. Video series Always Open gets this with Denny’s. I think Jerry Seinfeld’s Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee has the potential to accomplish the same thing — which is ironic, given that the show is pointedly about being in cars and drinking coffee.

Sixth: Perhaps we’d better call it “Longform Media” instead of “Print Media.” Because I don’t think a war based on medium — print vs. digital — is winnable if you’re anti-technology. A conversation around content length however is I think inherently tenable, now that technology is sometimes on your side.

Conclusion:

You know, I usually like to make lists that are eleven items long, but this already turned into a 2,000-word behemoth. Print is an exciting place. I’ll be eager to see what the future holds.

 

Spotify, Part II

Spotify announced today that they’ll be launching a free playlist-based product for mobile devices, with an eye towards increasing user trial and adoption.

For smartphones, you can access all of your precompiled playlists, as well as use the Shuffle product. However, you can not perform unlimited search and listen queries.

About a year ago, I wrote a post about Spotify Mobile Playlists which called for very nearly the same thing:

Can Spotify have its advertisers curate (and pay for) playlists, which I can listen to or even temporarily download for free for a period of time?

Let’s say Pitchfork, or heck, even Harley Davidson, now let me download a playlist which I could listen to for a week. Instead of ads after every other song, build in liner notes. … Bits are catered so that they’re both relevant to the sponsor and to the music, so that all of a sudden the ads aren’t an apologetic interruption to the listening experience.

Chalk another one up to the “I love it when I’m right” column.