Honestly, the biggest thing for me in this chapter was just how validating it felt. I can’t count how many times I’ve pushed a door that was clearly a ‘pull’ and felt stupid for a second. The whole idea of the “Norman Door” made so much sense, especially since I see it constantly on campus. There are all these big doors with these handles, the kind of signifier that just screams ‘pull me.’ But half the time, they’re actually push doors. What’s even more confusing is that you can go to another building, see the exact same handle, and that one will actually be a pull. It’s like the design is actively working against you, making it impossible to learn or build a consistent mental model.
And it’s not just doors. My friend’s shower is another perfect example. It’s one of those single, modern-looking knobs with absolutely no signifiers, so there are no red or blue dots, no icons, nothing to tell you which way to turn for hot or cold. Every time I use it, it’s this huge guessing game where I have to turn it on and then quickly jump back to avoid getting blasted with freezing or scalding water. It’s a design that creates a genuinely stressful experience out of something that should be simple.
Now I can’t stop noticing this stuff everywhere. It’s made me realize that good design is basically invisible. It just works, and you don’t even think about it. Bad design, on the other hand, is loud and frustrating. So yeah, I guess my main takeaway is that I’m going to start blaming the objects around me a lot more, and myself a lot less.