Deceptive download

I was just sent a large file - ironically by a usability supplier.  I recieved the email saying "you have been sent a large file - click here to download it".  With services like YouSendIt or WeTransfer, what follow is a pretty simple experience.  But with Sendspace, I was faced with one of the most deceptive interfaces I've seen: 

 Take a look at the interface above and guess which link needs to be clicked to download the large file I've been sent...




Nope, it's not the black "Download" button...

 

Nope, it's not the yellow "Download" button...



Nope, it's not even the link that says, "Click here to start download".


It's the little blue link low on the page stating "Chlick here to start download from Sendspace"


Tricky.

The ultimate bad experience

So far, this has been the ultimate bad experience.  My purse was stolen on Saturday.  I only have (well, had) one purse, and in it was everything credit-card sized.  This included 4 bank cards, driving licence and numerous loyalty cards.  There was also some money, but as I am notoriously badly organised when it comes to carrying cash around (fortuitously in this case) I only lost about £15.

As soon as I realised it had been swiped, I got hold of all the numbers I needed to ring to cancel my cards.  First call, Nationwide (the building society, not the insurance company).  It was all going well until the man on the other end of the phone asked me whether I wanted to receive marketing materials from them.  Are you kidding me?  You're asking me whether I want to receive marketing materials from you when all I can really think about right now is the fact that I have no money, no access to money and someone has run off with quite a personal possession of mine.  He then went on to say 'Have a nice day'.  Have a nice day?!  Really?  Are you a monkey or a human?  I might expect something like this from a website, but from an actual living and breathing human?  No, I expect a little empathy.

Next call was to the Royal Bank of Scotland.  They were highly efficient, putting me through to their credit card cancellation department in the same call.  I was feeling a bit less worse now.  The lady I spoke to about cancelling my credit card was a real live human.  She did empathise with me.  Which made me feel a little better.  And she immediately checked my account to reassure me that no transactions had been carried out.  Yay, you've made some effort to understand your customers.

And then the pendulum swung the other way again.  This time I was trying to get hold of someone at MBNA (after mistakenly calling American Express, as that is what I recall seeing on my credit card, not MBNA).  They have a voice recognition phone system.  Problem number 1 - I'm in a public space, there is a lot of background noise, and I don't particularly want to shout my personal details to an automatic voice at the other end of the phone.  Problem 2 - after telling the automated voice that I've had my card stolen, it asks me to read out the long number on the front of the card.  Maybe it's just me, but I don't know the long number along the front of my card.  And then, because I couldn't read out the number they asked me to enter it using my keypad.  Just let me speak to someone already please.

Why is it so difficult to think about your customer when designing a service?  Who's using the service?  Yes, that's right, it's your customers.  Who pays your wages?  Yes, that's right, it's your customers.  Now, please think about how they would like to be treated and start your service design from there.

Augmenting reality. Using digital to make reality cool again.

When I told someone I worked in digital marketing they replied, "What? You sell fingers?" (boom, boom)

No, I don't sell fingers. In fact, whilst a lot of the work I produce digitally does eventually manifest in something real (like a product or an experience) much of what I do is very unreal. Perceptions are the original virtual currency, and much of the work I've done for Pepsi, Bacardi, Danone, Carlsberg and the like has traded in that currency alone.

How refreshing then to experience a site that connects the real and the virtual seamlessly.

Made.com allows one to buy furniture, not unlike any other online retailer. But in every other way, they are vastly different from other online retailers. And for that reason, I love them.

At this stage it's worth noting that I still haven't actually taken delivery of anything from Made.com. Yet even before fulfillment, I'm already a massive fan. How amazing is that? :-)

So how are Made.com different?

They use time as a currency

Their business model means there's significant time between order and fulfillment. Other companies find this a problem and see long delivery times as an embarrassment, hiding them away. But instead Made.com use this lag to their advantage: building drama, anticipation, affinity, connection and loyalty. They provide a countdown to delivery date and visual cues that help you to picture your actual product on its way to your door. A map and a nice description shows the path the product has gone through and it's current position. I like this.

They're are good value for money

We've got used to an Amazon.com next day delivery culture. We've got used to not having to wait for things. As a result, we inevitably pay a premium for this near-instant gratification. What Made.com have done is remind me that I don't, in fact, need everything by tomorrow. And by helping me realise that, they've helped me stop paying that premium. As a result, I've bought a product for a third of what it would cost in John Lewis. That's good value.

I find this really exciting. By merging real and virtual in a way that adds to reality, makes reality more tangible and more fun, the creators of Made.com have made reality cool again. And digital marketing that little bit more real. And my job just a bit more meaningful as a result. And that's a very good thing.

When fast service is bad service

Speedy, same hour (let alone same day) responses are what we all want from the customer service people we contact. Correct?

Not always.

I recently filled in a form on a furniture removal website. The form was titled "Get an immediate quote online". I filled it in during a 5-minute break at work. I expected to get "an immediate quote online".

Instead, I got a promise that my quote would be sent to me. Then, within half an hour of filling in the form, I got a phone call. I couldn't answer the phone. Furthermore, the voicemail left on my phone left me no clearer on what my move was going to cost me. What was intended to be a quick, faceless interaction with an immediate response has ended up requiring returning of phone calls to named individuals to "further discuss my requirements".

Yes, the response was fast. But the response was not what I asked for.

The service provider missed the point of the service they were providing. The "online" element was what appealed to me in my context. However, there was no online fulfilment to speak of. The fastest service in the world can't make up for misunderstanding what your customers want.

Resurrection is actually quite a big deal

It's a stumbling block for many when it comes to religion. Whilst the premise of Christianity is appealing to many, they struggle to chew on - let alone swallow - the concept of resurrection. Why then, is the same phenomenon so acceptable in the world of technology?

Last weekend, my Internet access at home died. I tried to save it with a new router and an hour-long chat to a helpful man at BT Broadband. The diagnosis was terminal. The only treatment possible - an engineer would have to visit.

This was a big deal in our house. No Skype to Granny and Grandad. No Facebooking. No catch-up TV. Nothing.

Less than a week later, however, I noticed some other devices in my house were quite happily enjoying themselves on the Internet. iPhones and TVs were flitting about the Web to their heart's content. Unbeliever that I was, I sceptically fired up my laptop once more - expecting the same error message as before. But no - it lived! It died and rose again! Hallelujah!

A week on, and I've moved on from this miracle. I can't explain it - I probably never will. It happened once - it'll probably happen again. And somehow in the world of technology - this phenomenon is perfectly acceptable. We get over errors and crashes and things fixing themselves without so much as a reboot. The miracle of resurrection in the world of bits and bytes is something we're cool with. Why then do we give God such a hard time?