Going Down by Jessica Schwingendorf

Yesterday I had to think.

I was in Young Hall for a job interview which was held on the 2nd floor. I used the elevator to get to the room with no problem. I stepped in, pressed the "2" button and exited per usual.

Elevators are pretty self-explanatory. It shouldn't take much thought to operate one, and I've had hardly any issues with them in the past.

However, upon exiting the 2nd floor post-interview, I was forced to think.

I walked in the elevator alone and went to reach for the button. I wanted to return to the main ground floor, which is often labelled as different things, depending on the building. Sometimes it's a "1". Other times it's an "L" for lobby, "G" for ground or "M" for main floor, and so on.

Whatever the label may be though, it's standard for the ground or first floor button to be accompanied by a star for clarity.

When I went to reach for the "G", "L", "M" or "1" I automatically just looked for the star since I don't often go into Young Hall and was unfamiliar with how its ground floor is labelled in the elevators.

But there was no star!

A wave of panic went through my body and stood there dumbfounded for about 2-3 seconds, which doesn't seem long, but in my state I had no idea how to get where I was going.

Did I want the basement? Where is the "1" button? What does "M" stand for? Mezzanine? Main?

I actually had to read the buttons and think about what floor I was going to and how it was

labelled. It wasn't the automatic process of reaching for the starred button like I usually experience.

I found this experience to be an excellent example of how we as humans are conditioned to follow a routine or standard, and when that routine is interrupted due to poor or variant designs, we panic and have to think.

This elevator, in general, follows logical signifiers that aided in my determination of the ground floor (after a few moments of thinking, of course). During my time abroad last semester I had to get used to the idea of the ground floor not being the "first" floor. In France, the ground floor was simply that, the "ground" floor. The floor above the ground was then the "first floor". I lived on the 8th floor of a
a French apartment building, but by North American story standards, I lived on the 7th floor.

Knowing this standard information, and the fact that I was in a North American building, I then had two choices: "B" or "M". This conclusion was reached because the floor numbers are laid logically starting with the bottom floors as the bottom buttons and the top floors as the top buttons. However, the "B" and "M" were on the same line of buttons.

So I continued to think.

Even if I did not know the definition of the "B" and "M’ floors, I could conclude that the "M" was the main entry floor above the basement because the lower floors on each line are located to the left. Thus, "B" was the lowest floor and I needed to press the "M" button.

After some research into the topic, I discovered that the five-pointed star I so longed for stems from the 2010 ADA Standard for Accessible Design. The star indicates the floor with the quickest available exit in case of emergency. This is namely the ground floor, where the main entry and exit way is located. This is the same standard that requires brail numbering on the buttons.

I am not familiar with the history of this specific building on campus, or why it does not follow this standard, but it nonetheless illustrates how standards and logical signifiers play such a large role in our daily activities.

It is important, therefore, to keep designs streamlined and consistent so that users don't need to figure things out for themselves. It is up to the designers to adhere to modern standards and follow the guidelines laws and logic law out for them. When designers deviate from the standards, people are lost and in other cases may not find a solution as quickly as I was able to do.

The signifiers, and therefore the instructions, should always be obvious. Users shouldn’t have to think referring to principles seen in Steve Krug's Don’t make me think, revisited: A common sense approach to web and mobile usability.

References

Krug, Steve. (2014).  Don’t make me think, revisited: A common sense approach to web and mobile usability.  San Francisco, CA: New Riders