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The latest from Rosenfeld Media

The latest from Rosenfeld Media

  • Liftoff! Opening Credits: Contributors, Guests, and Reviewers

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    When Russ and I started writing Lift Off!, we knew right away that we wanted to amplify experiences & perspectives from a broad representation of design leaders. We also made sure we didn’t solely include all the usual suspects who frequently contribute to the greater user experience and design community.

    We’re grateful that these folks wanted to help by sharing their voices, either directly as contributors, as a reviewer who read our chapters from start to finish (and sometimes multiple times over), or by telling us a story that we quoted in the book. It’s also worth mentioning that some folks shared amazing stories that unfortunately weren’t able to be included in the text after much hand-wringing with our editors. In addition to the complete list of resources we footnote in the book, we want to highlight a few of the secondary sources whose work has already been published elsewhere but is especially relevant to our message.

    Foreword

    Kim Goodwin

    Primary Sources:

    Chapter 1

    Surprise! You’re a Design Manager Now!

    Monet Spells

    Helen Keighron

    Alexis Lloyd

    Chapter 2

    Designing Diversity and Inclusion in Your Design Team

    Erin Thomas, Ph.D

    Lisa Welchman

    Gail Swanson

    Michelle Y. Bess

    Amy Johnson

    Eli Montgomery

    Maria Pereda

    Chapter 3

    Designing Your Hiring Process

    Joanne Weaver

    Jasmine Friedl

    Chapter 4

    Performance Profiles and Interview Guides

    Jen Tress

    Chapter 6

    Interviewing Potential Team Members

    Randy Ellis

    Chapter 7

    The Home Stretch – From Offers to Onboarding

    Amanda Schonfeld

    Chapter 8

    Unifying the Team Culture with Charters

    Dr. Steve Julius

    Chapter 9

    Designing the One on Ones

    Richard Dalton

    Shay Howe

    Abi Jones

    Adam Connor

    Elizabeth Goodman

    Chapter 11

    Presenting Work and Everything Else

    Amy Jiménez Márquez

    Brad Nunnally

    Gail Swanson

    Chapter 13

    Developing People, Teams, and Careers

    Jason Mesut

    Chapter 14

    Scaling Design

    Jacqui Frey

    Kim Lenox

    Todd Zaki Warfel

    Chapter 15

    Designing Influence

    Becki Hyde

    Margot Bloomstein

    Anne Hjortshoj

    Chapter 16

    Escape Velocity

    Adam Fry-Pierce

    Peer Reviewers

    Emily Campbell

    Ronnie Battista

    David Panarelli

    Bibiana Nunes

    Emileigh Barnes

    Amy Jiménez Márquez

    Eli Montgomery

    Secondary Sources

    A comprehensive list of references and works cited will be provided in the text. In the meantime, a sampling of our secondary sources include:

    • Chelsey Glasson
    • Hannah McKelvey
    • Jacqueline L. Frank
    • Danielle Mastrangel Brown
    • Camille Fournier
    • Yesenia Perez-Cruz
    • Nathan Curtis
    • Jeneanne Rae
    • Maria Guidice
    • Lara Hogan
    • Julie Zhou

    Avoid Zoom’s mistake! Understand your customers’ expectations

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    Zoom has been my go-to online meeting tool for years because it’s easier to use than competitors. So I was surprised recently when they screwed up so many privacy and security issues. It reminded me of some of the case studies I wrote about in my book, Why We Fail. My theory: our standards for privacy and security increased significantly in the past several years, particularly due to companies such as Apple who made it a strategic issue, and Zoom missed this shift. It looks like they’re moving swiftly to remedy the situation, but hopefully they don’t throw out the baby (usability) with the bathwater (dirty privacy practices). My video explains more.

    Piercings, Power and Getting Older: A User Research War Story by Tamara Hale

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    Tamara Hale leads the research practice at Workday. She presented this story live at the Advancing Research conference. (This post will be updated with videos etc. as available)

    As a researcher, I’m quite used to changing my appearance and my bodily practices to fit the circumstances. I’ve donned a headscarf when recruiting door-to-door at the Mosques of East London. I’ve traded my butch boots for kitten heels when interviewing scientists who adhere to biblical beliefs of Creationism. I’ve dyed my hair black and acquired a rural accent to better pass as a Peruvian when conducting research in Peru. From Managua to Caracas, I received instruction from my hosts about how to walk the Latin American city with purpose, and how to develop a second pair of eyes in the back of my head. That’s right, in my research experiences, I have literally relearned how to walk.

    A few years ago I was about to embark on a research trip to Tokyo. I knew enough about Japanese business culture to consult the interpreter I had hired about appropriate dress for doing business in a large, traditional Japanese company. I wanted to know specifically should I remove the multitude of visible piercings I had acquired in the last few years? Earlier in my career I’d been a consultant, and had done a lot of work for conservative financial services firms and had been part of large sales pitches. But then I joined a California-casual tech company, in an arguably more casual Colorado office. Over the years, what my business suits accumulated in dust, my ears collected in precious metals. It was probably a good idea to remove the piercings, my interpreter confirmed.

    Soon I arrived in Tokyo and in the tiny hotel room I proceeded to carefully remove my jewelry. After my sacrificial act of extraction, I made my way to dinner with the team. I’d only met the product manager a few times, mostly over video conferencing tools, and as soon as she walked in, with her gleaming nose stud, I realized that I’d neglected to share my knowledge about piercings and Japanese business attire with her. What to do now?

    To some people (perhaps non-researchers especially?) the acts of bodily modification and change to my bodily practices that I have undergone for research may seem inauthentic, maybe even a betrayal of my unique “self”- that which has come to be called “identity”. The reality is more complex. Other people familiar with fieldwork that crosses cultural boundaries, will understand that at times such modification comes from a place of respect, and an attempt to lessen the distance between ourselves and our research participants. Further, women, people of color, LGBTQ folks and other minorities are deeply familiar with having to modify bodies and bodily practices as steps for protection and self-preservation, necessary acts to go about living in spaces that were not designed with us in mind or deliberately designed to exclude us. Yet other acts of bodily modification are ways to enact agency, to question and subvert the social and cultural constraints imposed on some, even while some bodies’ trespassings are scrutinized more heavily than others.

    All of these thoughts went through my head over dinner and I was unsure of what to do with them. I chose not to mention anything to the product manager. The next day over coffee before our first customer visit, I fretted with my interpreter, “What should I do?! Should I ask my colleague to remove her beautiful nose stud?!”

    He informed me matter of factly not to worry too much about it since it was going to be obvious to our customers that I was the “serious business lady” and that the PM was the “cool, young California kid”. My heart sank. What the f*&?! Clearly this guy didn’t understand – I’m the one working in the Design department! I’m hip! ‘I have an asymmetrical haircut!’ What’s more, how dare he refer to me as a “lady”? I’m a millennial! Just barely, but still!

    But then he added that what was important was that in the eyes of the customer, I, an important, formidable, business leader had been sent to listen to their concerns and relay them back to executives in our company – and that I conveyed the part authentically. I was reminded in that moment, that whatever image I had attempted to craft for myself was at best tenuous and always subject to interpretations that I could not control. At the same time, I realized that many of the bodily adaptations I have undergone over the course of my career have allowed me to discover and come into alternate and new versions of myself. Through practicing research over more than a decade and a half, I’ve learned not to hold on too tightly to the ideas I’ve constructed about myself. And so, at once humbled, and feeling a little more powerful than usual (at least for the day) I stepped into the elevator to meet our customer.


    Steve Portigal is the founder of Portigal Consulting. He’s written two books on user research: Interviewing Users and Doorbells, Danger, and Dead Batteries. His work has informed the development of music gear, wine packaging, medical information systems, corporate intranets, videoconferencing systems, and iPod accessories. Follow Steve on Twitter or listen to his podcast Dollars to Donuts.

    Don’t Fall Flat: A User Research War Story by Randy Duke II

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    Randolph Duke II is an Experience Strategist with Cantina. He is always open to connecting on Slack or LinkedIn. He presented this story live at the Advancing Research conference. (This post will be updated with videos etc. as available)

    As a researcher, you come to expect the unexpected. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get surprised. I had received my first project as the lead researcher and designer for an internal IT group. The IT group hired me to help them learn about and fix some internal software tool. I agreed to a really tight deadline so the client provided an employee to support and shadow me. We’ll call her “Laura”. Laura was really bright and took well to instruction – the ideal apprentice, if you will. Although I shared some potential questions I might use during employee observations, I warned her that fieldwork could go any which way and that she should try to be ready for anything. I hadn’t realized we were both going to need that advice.

    Two days into visiting offices across their different buildings, we were finally scheduled to meet “Carol”. Carol was important to my small data pool; she represented an important team within the company and previously shared unfiltered, critical feedback. Compared to her colleagues more nuanced responses, we knew time with Carol was going to be different. Upon introducing myself and thanking Carol for her time, she immediately responded with “I know who you are and I have opinions.” Before I could even come up with a response I just instinctively smiled and thought I am going to need to bring my A game. I planned to be approachable and responsible in guiding a fruitful conversation instead of just letting her complain. As therapeutic as it might’ve been for Carol, I needed to help Laura and myself understand why Carol felt the ways that she did so we could do something about it later. That’s what I planned, at least.

    I first attempted to build rapport by asking Carol to describe how she works which immediately sent us down another path. One of the first things Carol brought up was a coworker she introduced to the company: Flat Carol. Flat Carol was a nearly life-size cardboard cutout of Carol. It was a 10-year old photo of her, smiling and holding a phone to her ear. It had a blank speech bubble encrusted with the remnants of old pieces of Scotch tape. I was caught completely off guard! Was this something that people just did here? I looked to Laura to gauge if something like this was somehow common and the look on her face confirmed that yes, Flat Carol was definitely out of the ordinary. I had warned Laura to be ready for nearly anything but here I was the one who needed to act. I thought to myself: do I find a way to make this conversation more about the software as scheduled or do I show Laura how to react to the unplanned?

    In the few seconds I had to collect my thoughts I made my decision: I was going to be as present for Carol as possible. How could I hold onto a well-intended plan of talking about software when Laura and I had the chance to meet “someone” Carol was willing to share? I put down my question guide, and just focused on Carol. She told us how she put Flat Carol in her seat when she was away from her desk, whether she was going on vacation or as far as the restroom. How Flat Carol would have kind words or notes taped to the speech bubble for people passing her desk. We occasionally spoke about company processes connected to the software research, but that wasn’t my priority. Every so often I would look over at Laura to see what she was gaining from this experience and saw several approving nods, smiles, and fervent note taking. By the end, Carol shared that she was grateful for our conversation and Laura was relieved. Once we left Carol, Laura let out a sigh of relief and said “I don’t think I could ever recover the way you did.” That’s what research is about.

    In mentoring Laura (who was, after all, still my client), I had spoken generally about being ready for anything, but when we were faced with a real surprise in the field, I had to live up to those words in a way that surely exceeded what either of us had in mind. We all walked away better for it.


    Steve Portigal is the founder of Portigal Consulting. He’s written two books on user research: Interviewing Users and Doorbells, Danger, and Dead Batteries. His work has informed the development of music gear, wine packaging, medical information systems, corporate intranets, videoconferencing systems, and iPod accessories. Follow Steve on Twitter or listen to his podcast Dollars to Donuts.

    Sea Legs: A User Research War Story by Tamara Hale

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    Tamara Hale leads the research practice at Workday. This story is adapted from Hale, T. 2018 People Are Not Users. Journal of Business Anthropology. 7(2):163-183. She will be telling a completely new story at the Advancing Research conference.

    A ferry boat is a place of questionable comfort for conducting research. A ferry boat in a storm is an altogether different matter, as I found out several years ago, when I was researching the experience of travelers sailing across the English channel between Dover and Calais, on one of Europe’s biggest ferry companies.

    My objective was to inform a complete redesign of the newest fleet of ships, based on an understanding of the needs of ferry travelers: from queuing, to parking and wayfinding to the deck, to using the facilities on board and deboarding, all viewed through the perspective of service design. I spent a week observing and interviewing couples, families, traveling groups, truckers and staff on the ship. With time I felt I had become part of its very inventory: adapting to the ebb and flow of passengers for their three hour crossing. At each port, the ferry emptied itself of people, cars, buses and trucks and grew quiet, as if the ship sighed in relief and then braced in anticipation for the next wave of passengers. While the staff cleaned up from the last crossing and prepared for the next sailing, I would organize my fieldnotes and change the batteries on my audio recorder (yes, we had those back then). With multiple crossings a day I eventually forgot which port we were at, and it was only by locating a flag on the docks outside that I would know whether we were in Dover or Calais at any given time.

    In my second week of fieldwork, just as I became accustomed to the daily routine of life aboard the ferry boat, I found myself suddenly in the midst of a formidable storm. As the waters grew rougher, and the ship floor started responding to the undulation of the tempestuous waves, I gave up on asking passengers to show me around the ship because none of us could walk or stand confidently. Instead I wobbled over onto the luxury travel deck, hoping for some relief amidst the red velvet lounge sofas, oak bar, and unobstructed ocean views. There I attempted to interview a retired couple on their vacation, my audio recorder sliding back and forth on the table between us. But I was soon forced to abort the interview, trying my best not to throw up on the red velvet, or worse, my research participants. The ferry staff, seeing my distress, tried to assure me that this weather did not pose a threat to our lives, while simultaneously scooping up the wine and champagne glasses off the bar into the safety of lockable wooden cabinets. At the end of the night, I stumbled off the ship to my hotel, wondering if I could ever set foot on another boat.

    After a few nights of rest, I returned to the ship to complete my research over a span of a few much calmer days, this time focusing on truck drivers who regularly made the crossing with different concerns than my holiday travelers. I attempted to regale my research participants with the story of my storm of Titanic proportions days earlier, an endeavor which sparked pity and laughter rather than admiration. I wrapped up fieldwork as I always do, with a sense of deep humility and an expanded sense of different lifeworlds. This time, however, that humility was less intellectual in nature than corporeal.

    The storm had added a new layer of complexity to my role in the project and to my personal and bodily relationship with the site of my research, the ship. Through the storm I became acutely aware that, despite my best intentions, I had treated the ship primarily as a backdrop for my interviews instead of considering it as a space and material object that seemingly possessed its own agency. The affordances of the ship when activated by the storm had challenged my sense of safety, comfort, and routine and replaced it with fear, confusion and malaise. Through my own body I learned of the ship’s potential to make its passengers feel a range of emotions and physical sensations. This attuned me more fully to the ship’s design shortcomings, to travelers’ and staff needs, and ultimately enhanced my ability to shape the decisions in the design and funding of the new fleet. While I never did fully find my sea legs on that research trip, I had reached a turning point in my appreciation of the spaces and environments in which research takes place.


    Steve Portigal is the founder of Portigal Consulting. He’s written two books on user research: Interviewing Users and Doorbells, Danger, and Dead Batteries. His work has informed the development of music gear, wine packaging, medical information systems, corporate intranets, videoconferencing systems, and iPod accessories. Follow Steve on Twitter or listen to his podcast Dollars to Donuts.

    Writing Is Designing: Words and the User Experience is now available for pre-order!

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    Preorder our newest book, Writing Is Designing: Words and the User Experience and get 15% off!

    Without words, apps would be an unusable jumble of shapes and icons, while voice interfaces and chatbots wouldn’t even exist. Words make software human-centered, and require just as much thought as the branding and code. Writing Is Designing: Words and the User Experience by Michael J. Metts and Andy Welfle will show you how to give your users clarity, test your words, and collaborate with your team. You’ll see that writing is designing.


    What Others Are Saying

    “This book doesn’t just formalize the discipline of writing for the user experience; it empowers all digital product writers to stand up for their craft and take a permanent seat at the design table.”
    Kristina Halvorson, CEO, Brain Traffic and author, Content Strategy for the Web

    “At last! A book that treats writing for products as a design practice that has tangible, lasting impact on the user experience. Andy and Michael don’t just help you write better—they help you design better products.”
    Jonathon Colman, Senior Design Manager, Intercom

    DesignOps Summit videos, speaker decks, tripnotes and sketchnotes now available

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    Speaker decks, presentation videos, Natalie Hansen’s tripnotes, and MJ Broadbent’s sketchnotes are now available via the conference’s program page; enjoy! You can also see all the photos from the conference here.

    We hope to see you again next year—or even sooner at Advancing Research 2020 (March 30-April 1 in New York City)

    —Lou Rosenfeld and the DesignOps Summit team

    Tickets to the Inaugural Advancing Research 2020 Conference now Available

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    Tickets are now available! Register now.

    What makes the Advancing Research 2020 conference unique?

    • A research-driven conference: Practicing what we preach, we’ve designed the conference and its program based on two robust phases of user research, involving nearly 1,000 responses and analysis from over a dozen highly-experienced researchers.
    • A diverse, compelling speaker line-up: We’re carefully selecting speakers for their ideas and for the diverse perspectives and experiences they represent. 40% of our conference proposals come from members of under-represented groups; 17% come from new speakers.
    • Presentations that set the standard for quality: Once we select our speakers, we work with them iteratively over months to prepare and rehearse their presentations.
    • Our attendees shape and lead the industry: You’ll meet more research leaders, high-level research managers, and experienced research practitioners than you’ll find at perhaps any other conference.

    Who should attend the Advancing Research 2020 conference?

    • Experienced researchers: People who conduct research projects, select methods and develop methodologies, design studies, and evaluate products and services.
    • Research team leaders and managers: People who select research tools and platforms, hire and onboard researchers, manage research operations, develop methodologies for their teams, and represent research in the C-suite.
    • Senior leaders, innovators, and strategists: People who have invested heavily into building cutting-edge research organizations.