Month: February 2010

In November 2006, British Airways started deploying a redesign of “Club World”, their long-haul business class cabin. While retaining its predecessor’s unusual seat arrangement¹, the overall appearance has become bolder and “edgier”. The redesign also resulted in changes to how some of the cabin’s key features — the “privacy divider”, the reading lights, and the electric seats — work, unfortunately making each one more difficult to use than before.

Please respect my privacy

Because of the cabin’s seat layout, you more or less look directly into your neighbor’s face when seated. For this reason, a “privacy screen” is mounted between pairs of seats.

In the previous cabin design, this screen was a large, sturdy fan that was operated manually. The hinge was made from aluminum whose color contrasted nicely with the deep blue fan, providing a reasonably clear visual clue as to how the fan was operated: just pull on the open edge to unfold it, and you are effectively shielded from your “next-door” neighbor’s gaze.

The new cabin design sports a screen made from frosted-plastic segments and is operated by an electric motor. Pressing a button, which is located on top of the divider, lowers and raises the screen.

For use by the cabin crew, the location of this button is just fine. When seated, however, you cannot see the button, and there is no label that points to its location. From a passenger’s point of view, therefore, there is no indication of how to lower or raise the privacy screen, and I have seen quite a few frustrated passengers who tried to operate the screen manually — by pulling it up or pushing it down — to no avail.

A better solution would be to place buttons on each side of the divider wall, so that each passenger could easily find and reach them. Placing them higher up on the wall would prevent inadvertently pressing it while moving around in the seat; this would also keep it easily accessible for crew members standing in the aisle.

To make the operation easier still, the design should use dedicated buttons for raising and lowering the screen, arranged vertically to create a natural mapping of the controls vs. the movement of the screen.

Shine a light

Both the old and new cabin feature adjustable reading lights for each passenger. The old design used a “satellite” housing mounted on a ball-joint, so that the light could be adjusted vertically and horizontally.

The button to switch the light on or off was part of the seat control panel, and pressing the button cycled through four operation modes: low, mid, and high brightness, and off. Although it was placed away from the light, the button’s unambiguous icon made it easy to identify, and the position on the control panel made it easy to find and convenient to access.

In the new Club World cabin, the light and its brightness control are mounted in a little recess in the divider wall slightly behind and above the passenger’s head. A sliding fader controls the brightness, and a tab lets the passenger adjust the light’s angle. The movement is limited to one pane, however, since the light is mounted on an axle instead of a ball-joint.

Because of its location, adjusting the light’s position as well as its brightness is much more awkward than before. Even worse is that the designers did such a “great” job of hiding the light, that some passengers have trouble even finding it.

Lights provide a wonderfully natural visual clue: once you switch them on, you’ll likely be able to locate them. So, all that is required to help users find a light is placing its switch in an easily discoverable location.

In this specific case, the designers should have left the light switch in its original position next to the seat controls. Just by operating the switch, passengers would have been able to find the light itself.

Controlling your seat

The Club World seat in is an impressive piece of technology: powered by an electric motor, it can be adjusted from an upright-back office chair position via a deck-chair-like “Z-shape” to fully flat.

For take-off and landing, the seat must be brought into a specific position by pressing a dedicated button: as long as this button is pressed, the seat moves towards this position, and once it has reached it, the motor will stop. A green light on top of the divider wall serves as an indicator to the cabin crew that the seat is locked into the take-off/landing position.

On the old seat control panel, the graphics made it easy to recognize the shape of the seat, and the arrows perfectly illustrated how the seat or the lumbar support would move when pressing the respective button. Although it may not have been directly obvious what the button with the airplane was for, it’s position and the link between this and the two arrow buttons indicated that it somehow affected the seat position.

The person who designed this panel made good use of the Gestalt laws by letting the bezel flow around the light button and using the blue background for the seat controls to create a visual clue that these are two distinct groups of controls.

Within these two groups, it was obvious that there was a group of four buttons for controlling lumbar support and a group of three buttons for the seat angle. Taking this concept even further, the latter group was divided into a one-button and a two-button group via the shape of the buttons: perfectly round vs. “lozinge”-shaped.

All in all, this was a textbook example for intuitive control layout and mapping. Now compare this to the new layout.

All buttons are arranged on a single line, and they are all in direct proximity of each other. The visual “grouping indicators” — the oval frames around the two two-button groups on the left and the blue color on the center button — are very subtle.

The graphic representation of the seat has been reduced to an extreme: Is that an “L”? What does it stand for? What do the arrow buttons move, and in what direction do they move the thing that they move?

The mapping of these arrows is actually reversed from the old design: they are mapped vs. the seat surface, i.e., when pressing the arrow facing away from the seat back, the seat surface will move towards the passenger’s feet, and the seat back will move backwards/down, and vice versa.

In fact, I pressed the wrong button several times, because I intuitively expected the arrows to be mapped vs. my upper body as was the case with the old design: when I want to sit up, I want the seat back to be moved to a more upright position, moving my upper body slightly forward. Consequently, I would hit the button pointing away from me — and achieve exactly the opposite of what I intended.

Once you have made sense of the new controls, you’ll understand that the buttons with the “seat stick figures” are seat position presets for “fully upright”, “deck-chair”, and “fully flat”.².

How to improve this control panel, then, if the goal is to absolutely have them arranged on a line as they are now?

I’d start by removing the three preset buttons altogether, and using the newly found space to place the remaining buttons a bit further apart to create three groups: lumbar/neck support (four buttons), take-off/landing seat position (one), and seat-back adjustment (two). For good measure, I’d also move the switch for the reading light into this panel, and place it at the far end facing the seat-back to align the button mapping with the physical position of the light vs. the seat.

Finally, I would add a graphical representation of the seat back — similar to the icon found on the lumbar and neck support buttons — to the two arrow buttons, and also reverse the buttons’ functions to re-create the mapping found in the previous design’s control panel.

Don’t ignore usability over aesthetics

When updating the visual aspects of a design, it is imperative to keep an eye on how a redesign affects the usability of a device. In the case of BA’s “Club World” cabin, the designers may have achieved more elegant, more stylish aesthetics, but they also caused the usability of the passenger-facing controls to degrade noticeably.

What’s more, I’m convinced that it would have taken a usability expert a single short flight in the new cabin to identify all of these problems and suggest effective improvements.

During my recent visit to Macworld 2010 in San Francisco, I ran into a few issues with two door handles in my hotel room. How can something as simple as a door handle be anything but perfectly easy to use?

Getting into the closet

In my home country, the predominant door handle design is that of a horizontal bar mounted to a rotating axle at one end: to open the door, you push down on the horizontal bar to disengage the door lock, and then push or pull to move the door. The closet door’s handle in my hotel room looked exactly like one of those.

There is, however, a minor, yet important peculiarity about this exact specimen: although the round axle and faceplate provide visual clues that its axle can rotate, the handle is mounted fixed into this position. Unlike most other handles of this type, this one cannot be pushed down. There is simply no need for this, because the door is held in the closed position by a roller catch.

Although you realize this fact as soon as you open the door for the first time, my mental model of this type of door handle is so deeply ingrained in my brain that even after a couple of days in this room I kept intuitively pushing down on the handle almost every time I wanted to access the closet. The few times I managed not to do this, a conscious mental effort was required to remind myself of how this specific handle works.

What’s more, when opening a door that opens towards me, I usually pull on the handle, let go of it completely, watch the door swing open, and grab the handle on the other side to prevent the door from crashing into the wall. Unfortunately, this specific closet door does not have a handle on the other side…

This is a neat example for what happens when a device’s visual appearance conforms to a mental model that the user has developed for a type of device, while its actual operation differs considerably from that mental model.

It would make for interesting research to analyze whether users who grew up in a country where rotating door knobs are more popular than the horizontal-bar-on-an-axle kind, would have the same problems with this closet door handle that I had.

Would they have developed a mental model that is anchored as strongly in their subconscious as mine is, or would it be easier for them to grasp, and adapt to, this specific model, because they have no experience with how this handle design usually works?

A slippery slide even when dry

The hotel room’s bathroom door is an elegant-looking large sliding door with a frosted-glass panel, but the design of its door handles creates a few rather un-elegant functional issues.

To move the door, you push with your fingertips against the left or right inner vertical walls of a rectangular recess in the side of the door. This design requires you to switch hands or at least change your hand’s position, whenever you want to change the direction in which you move the door.

This is problematic, because the sliding door is rather heavy, so when you open it with too much force, it will gain enough momentum to noisily bump against the end-stop and rebound a few centimeters.³ Due to the handles’ design, however, the door will have crashed into the end-stop well before you are able to get a proper grip on the handle.

What’s more, as you can see in the photo above, the handle recess is partially covered with a metal plate that is rather thin. Oftentimes when you open the door, the edge of this plate will cut into your fingers, which, due to the door’s weight, is very unpleasant, if not painful.

Switching handles for an easy fix

Interestingly, the problems outlined above could be fixed easily by exchanging the handles between the closet and the bathroom doors.

The closet door’s hinges and its position in the door frame provide sufficient visual clues about how this door will move. Mounting the recessed handle on the closet door would afford the required pulling motion by having the user curl her fingers behind the front plate.

Since pulling the door open requires force to be applied to the inside pane of the handle’s front plate instead of to the inner vertical walls of the recess, the front plate would not cut into the user’s fingers.

With the handle’s front plate facing away from the door hinges, the user would have to use her hand that is facing towards the hinges when standing in front of the door. That hand would also be in a natural position to grab the door’s edge to prevent it from flying open and smashing into the wall.

Using the closet door’s handle on the sliding bathroom door, on the other hand, would literally afford a “good grip” on the door. If the handle pointed towards the floor, this vertical mounting position would allow the user to open and close the door without having to change hand positions, and it would also provide an additional visual clue that this is a sliding door.

Update 2011-02-08: Just recently, I stayed at this hotel again. This time, instead of the fancy sliding door, a hinged door graced the entrance to my room’s bathroom. Since this door is equipped with a latch mechanism, opening the door requires you to push down on the door handle — which looks identical to the fixed-in-place one on the clothes closet.

With two identical-looking but differently-behaving handles in one room, I happened to press down on the closet’s non-moving handle a few times during my stay, and I also tried to pull open the bathroom door without pushing down on its moving handle every now and then.

Unfortunately, the handles’ beautiful, elegantly sleek curves provide only poor consolation for the fact that their specific application in this hotel room violates a fundamental rule of user interface design: user interface elements that are perfectly identical in visual appearance should also be perfectly identical in the ways they operate.