As we can all clearly see from my exhaustive and logically impenetrable arguments, leftovers are unquestionably the cuisine with the single greatest user experience around. Now run, don’t walk, to your fridge and grab that finely aged carton of Kung Pao Chicken and have the meal—and experience—of your life. You can thank me later.
]]>I’ve gotten used to all these things. Still, on a recent hotel stay, I came across the single most unforgivable design flaw I’ve ever encountered in a hotel room: unusable power sockets. For years at the start of the computer age, hotels had yet to upgrade their in-room power receptacles to account for the proliferation of personal devices that required access to plugs at multiple locations throughout the room (not just a single desk-adjacent 2-plug outlet). Now that they seem to have grasped the need for an overabundance of outlets, charging your phone within arm’s reach of the bed while your laptop remains plugged in on the desk is no longer just a pipe dream. Great. About time. This is what makes my recent experience so frustrating. As shown in the picture above, the room I was in was equipped with lamps on either side of the king-size bed, each with two outlets apiece (excellent!) Except that the design of the lamp itself made plugging anything into the outlets utterly impossible. To be fair, whoever manufactured these crimes against usability is mainly at fault, but did no one from the hotel procurement team think to QA these objects for functional suitability before purchasing what I can only assume would be hundreds, if not thousands, of them?
There is more than enough incompetence involved here to allow me to spread my dissatisfaction around thoroughly, but that still doesn’t help me charge my phone overnight. Good design is in the details; we ignore them at our peril.
]]>Now, obviously, the original and most important application of the Waffle House itself is to satiate cravings for breakfast foods at any hour of the day or night. This it does without compare. No matter where you are across the southeastern portion of the United States, you are rarely more than a short drive to breakfast nirvana. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. 365 days a year. Rain or shine. For the most part, anyway. Another fun fact about the southeastern portion of the United States is that this is also, more often than not, the terminus for Atlantic-borne storms, often referred to as Hurricane Alley. Strange coincidence, huh?
The dedication and resilience of the Waffle House and its employees are almost as renowned as its deliciously eponymous waffles themselves. It takes a lot to close down a Waffle House, and only even more dire conditions would be required to keep one of their restaurants offline for more than was absolutely necessary. Any dedicated Waffle House aficionado would know this. And now, so does FEMA.
The Waffle House Index was created by an act of design serendipity so profound I hesitate to credit a governmental bureaucrat with its discovery. What was realized was that the simplest solution to tracking the path, severity, and lasting damage of a storm was not to build networks of sensors and on-the-ground reports of what happened where. Instead, all that was needed was to simply tap into the freely available and publically posted operating status of the network of Waffle House franchises. With this single tool, it was possible to tell, with great accuracy, where the most significant storm damage occurred (Waffle Houses are closed) and where services were merely limited (Waffle Houses are operating at diminished capacity). Brilliant in its simplicity.
I don’t know about you, but such a great design solution really builds up an appetite. Who’s up for waffles?
]]>via uxbooth.com
]]>via newyorker.com
]]>via wired.com
]]>