The Psychopathology of Everyday Things
One everyday design choice that drives me crazy is the QR-code menu that opens as a full-page PDF on my phone. The restaurant may have made its menu digital, but it clearly was not designed with a phone screen in mind. I end up pinching, zooming, and dragging the page around while trying not to lose my place. The text is usually tiny, and it is not always clear what I can tap. If nothing happens, I cannot tell whether I missed the link, the page is still loading, or the entire menu is just a flat image.
Norman’s argument made me rethink who is responsible for that frustration. My first reaction is often to assume I am doing something wrong, but the real problem is that the menu gives me very few clues about how it works. The signifiers are weak, and there is little or no feedback.
A better version would replace the PDF with a responsive webpage designed for a phone. Large buttons could take users directly to starters, mains, desserts, and drinks. A navigation bar that stays on the screen would make it easy to move between sections without scrolling back to the top. Familiar checkboxes could handle dietary filters, and unavailable choices could be grayed out instead of letting users tap something that leads nowhere. The page should also respond immediately when someone makes a selection. Highlighting the current category or displaying the number of active filters would reassure the user that the tap actually worked. Even a simple loading symbol or useful error message would be better than leaving someone staring at a frozen screen.
The same principles matter in interactive media. An artwork can be mysterious in what it means without being confusing to operate. If clicking, dragging, speaking, or moving affects the work, people need some clue that those actions are possible. That clue might be a change in the cursor, a subtle animation, a sound, or a short instruction. The connection between an action and its result should also make sense. Moving a slider upward might increase the intensity of an effect. Moving the cursor toward an object might cause that object, or something close to it, to respond. If an action affects a completely unrelated part of the screen, the participant may assume the system is broken.
Feedback matters because it lets people know that the artwork noticed them. A color change, sound, animation, or shift in text can be enough to confirm that their action had an effect. Constraints can help too. Limiting the participant to a few meaningful actions, or disabling choices that are not currently possible, does not necessarily make the experience less creative. It can make the available possibilities easier to understand.
The main idea I took from Norman is that repeated mistakes usually point to a design problem. If many people struggle with the same interaction, blaming them does not solve anything. Good interactive media gives people enough information to understand the basic rules. Once they have that foundation, they can explore, experiment, and still be surprised by what the work does.
