My husband and I recently spent a long weekend in Madison, WI, and almost immediately, we noticed the bright red bikes of Madison B-cycle scattered throughout the Capitol Square area. Our friend Felix spotted a similar bike-sharing service in Montreal a while back, but this was my first time seeing this kind of transportation alternative outside of Europe.
(Image via compujeramey on Flickr)
We'd already decided to forego a rental car in favor of Zipcar on the trip, and so I was pretty excited to have yet another collective transportation option. When we decided to meet a friend several miles away, we walked up to the kiosk, hit the buttons to purchase a one-day membership, swiped a credit card, and ... failure. "Card read error" flashed on the screen. The same happened with other cards and at other kiosks, and finally, we had to admit that we weren't going to be taking rental bikes anywhere that afternoon.
Some usability issues compounded my frustration: There was no image to show which way to hold the card when swiping it — so I wasn't sure if the system was down or if I was just doing things wrong — and it was annoying to have to enter my zip code, phone number, and several other pieces of information before finding out there was an error. The bottom line, though, was that the kiosks just weren't working. That was a shame, but I understand that it can happen. Unfortunately, no hardware or software works perfectly 100% of the time.
But as I've been thinking about the experience over the past few days, what's stood out is how it's changed my enthusiasm for bike sharing as a whole. Now, that's probably unfair and irrational, but it's also true to how I'm feeling. And I've started to wonder if maybe the burden on truly unfamiliar technologies or systems to work right is higher — whether that's fair or not.
I can also see an argument for the opposite reaction: It's a new program! Cut it some slack! But apparently that doesn't work for me. If I'd gone to a familiar place — say, a Starbucks — and had a bad experience, I wouldn't have made much of it: "Starbucks is fine, but that Starbucks was awful!" But trying something unfamiliar and having a bad result prompted a different response in my mind. Now the next bike share I see will have to prove wrong my expectations of city bike-shares being finicky, frustrating, and ultimately non-functional.
Many of our clients, and the startups that launch every day in Silicon Valley and elsewhere, are trying to do radical things to change basic behaviors — how we power our homes or feed our bodies or get from place to place. After this experience, I want to beg those companies to be extra-sure that their products and systems are in tip-top shape, lest a failure derail their greater goals.
But maybe I'm too judgmental in this case. Where do you fall? Are you more permissive of failure in something radically new?
(Image via compujeramey on Flickr)
We'd already decided to forego a rental car in favor of Zipcar on the trip, and so I was pretty excited to have yet another collective transportation option. When we decided to meet a friend several miles away, we walked up to the kiosk, hit the buttons to purchase a one-day membership, swiped a credit card, and ... failure. "Card read error" flashed on the screen. The same happened with other cards and at other kiosks, and finally, we had to admit that we weren't going to be taking rental bikes anywhere that afternoon.
Some usability issues compounded my frustration: There was no image to show which way to hold the card when swiping it — so I wasn't sure if the system was down or if I was just doing things wrong — and it was annoying to have to enter my zip code, phone number, and several other pieces of information before finding out there was an error. The bottom line, though, was that the kiosks just weren't working. That was a shame, but I understand that it can happen. Unfortunately, no hardware or software works perfectly 100% of the time.
But as I've been thinking about the experience over the past few days, what's stood out is how it's changed my enthusiasm for bike sharing as a whole. Now, that's probably unfair and irrational, but it's also true to how I'm feeling. And I've started to wonder if maybe the burden on truly unfamiliar technologies or systems to work right is higher — whether that's fair or not.
I can also see an argument for the opposite reaction: It's a new program! Cut it some slack! But apparently that doesn't work for me. If I'd gone to a familiar place — say, a Starbucks — and had a bad experience, I wouldn't have made much of it: "Starbucks is fine, but that Starbucks was awful!" But trying something unfamiliar and having a bad result prompted a different response in my mind. Now the next bike share I see will have to prove wrong my expectations of city bike-shares being finicky, frustrating, and ultimately non-functional.
Many of our clients, and the startups that launch every day in Silicon Valley and elsewhere, are trying to do radical things to change basic behaviors — how we power our homes or feed our bodies or get from place to place. After this experience, I want to beg those companies to be extra-sure that their products and systems are in tip-top shape, lest a failure derail their greater goals.
But maybe I'm too judgmental in this case. Where do you fall? Are you more permissive of failure in something radically new?