Usability and the Importance of Prior Experience
Brian Davidson
In this paper, I’ll take a look at the usability of two sets of instructions. First, a good set – a 20-page full color guide to building a LEGO street sweeper. Secondly, a bad set – a 20-page black-and-white guide to using a cordless Black and Decker FireStorm 14.4 Volt Cordless CutSaw. Though I call one set good and the other bad, it’s clear through use of these instructions and through observation on how these instructions are used that both have their strong points and shortcomings. To analyze these instructions, I’ll break the discussion into subtopics: size, paper quality, layout, type selection, graphics, place of use and intended audience.
Following the analyses, I’ll engage in a brief discussion of how usability and the prior knowledge of users make some instructions more valuable than others.
LEGO – Disgruntled Worker, Good Instructions
Size. As with all LEGO instructions, the size of the pamphlet is dictated by the complexity of the product to be created and the size of the box it’s packaged in. For this set of instructions, the pamphlet is 5 ¾ by 4 inches, folded in half. The size is appropriate for use and legibility, but as will be discussed later, the size and folds in the pamphlet make its durability dubious.
Paper quality. The pamphlet is printed on slick paper with a moderate clay content, like that of Time and other popular news magazines. This paper, while functional for printing in full color, has its disadvantages. At folds and staple points, this paper becomes weak. Given that these instructions are often stored in the same boxes with the LEGO bricks and that they’re typically manhandled by young children, the instructions are easily tearable and wear out quickly. Instructions included in LEGO’s smallest boxes are often folded many times, meaning more often than not, the LEGO collector is left with a collection of postage-stamp sized bits of instructions scuffling around at the bottom of the box. Obviously, LEGO could go with a sturdier paper – perhaps a plastic-laminated cardstock – for its instructions, but the cost of those instructions would have to be balanced against an increased product cost. LEGO, aware of the fragility of their instructions, offers PDF versions of them online. This, to me, seems a fair balance between wanting customers to have good sets of instructions to use without increasing production costs, though searching through their sets of instructions for the right one can be problematic unless you have the specific product number or know precisely what name LEGO gives the creation whose instructions you’re seeking to replace.
Layout. Because of the multi-national appeal of LEGO bricks, the company has taken the approach of using as few words as possible in its instructions. Layout, then, is simple, with numbered drawings showing the building sequence. IN this set in particular, the pamphlet is laid out with one column of instruction per page, with no more than two images per column per page. This layout makes the drawings large enough to be seen in detail, an important considering, given the small parts in this particular model.
Type selection. LEGO has chosen a simple, sans-serif type for the few words included in these instructions. The instructions themselves use no words whatsoever, only numerals. The only words included in this pamphlet are included in one product warning (on choking hazards) reproduced in three languages, along with other necessities such as product numbers, the LEGO logo and a small icon on the back page directing users to
www.lego.com.
Graphics. The simple, back-lit oblique-angle line drawings used in LEGO instructions are the instructions’ strongest point. At a glance, even a novice builder can tell what parts are needed next and exactly where they go. Only on one occasion in a vigorous year of LEGO building have I seen my eight-year-old son flummoxed by a set of LEGO instructions – and they required a close look myself to understand his frustration, which had to do with the use of white and transparent bricks side by side in one model, a reproduction of which was ambiguous in the instructions. Most of the time, if he is confused by a building sequence, all I have to tell him to do is look at the instructions again, first of all to see if he missed a step, then he’s able to continue or go back and make modifications without further assistance.
The front cover of the pamphlet features a photograph of the street sweeper in action, including the unshaven visage of the LEGO man staring glumly out of the cab. Now, when I was a boy, all LEGO men had dots for eyes and an even smile. But that’s beside the point of this paper. The photograph, combined with a line drawing of the completed product inside the pamphlet, however, do serve as models to show the builder what the finished product will look like, if built correctly.
The back cover of this pamphlet is set aside for promotions. As a parent, this is the most aggravating portion of the instructions, as they advertize additional products, this time with full-color photographs showing the little LEGO men in action on cranes, in front-end loaders and in dump trucks which, apparently, tear the hearts out of little boys until they have them to play with. To throw a bone to parents and children alike, the company includes a small circular logo on the back cover, featuring a LEGO man with a questioning look on his face encircled with the words “Service?
www.lego.com.” Of course that leads to more heart-ripping photographs (and games, and buy me now products) on the web page, but at least there’s some free content there to assuage the brick-building masses, allowing parents to get back to work long enough to earn money to buy more LEGOs. (Disclaimer: I did the exact same thing to my parents, without the luxury of
www.lego.com, so I know all this is comeuppance.)
Place of use. LEGO makes it clear in its larger sets of instructions that it’s best to build with these bricks at a table, rather than on a carpet, because it’s nice to have a hard, flat surface on which to build. Given my own history with these bricks and the spread-out way in whcy my children play with them, it’s clear that this advice, on the most part, is rejected. This disconnection between LEGO’s intentions and the obvious preferences of LEGO builders – not just in my family; everyone I’ve seen playing with LEGOs always play with them on the floor, rarely at a table – makes the instructions more prone to tearing and eventual destruction and loss. We have also tended to store the instructions with the bricks themselves, and, as mentioned earlier, this practice has led to the instructions falling apart more quickly than if they were stored separately. But storing them separately means any time the users want to build a specific model, they have to leave the bricks momentarily to find the instructions. Anyone with an impatient eight-year-old can see how this diminishes the joy of play, as the instructions have to be hunted up from elsewhere.
Intended audience. I see two audiences here: The young LEGO enthusiast, hot on the trail of building his or her newest creation. Secondly, the older LEGO enthusiast or parent helping a younger one out. LEGO treats both audiences the same because of one factor that unites them – they don’t necessarily speak the same language. The only words in these instructions are warnings (in English, Spanish and French) that the bricks represent a choking hazard. The invitation to the LEGO website is ostensibly in English “Service?” but the word is the same in French and close enough in Spanish to be understandable. Nomenclature used in Web URLs is universal. Both audiences want to be able to construct these products quickly, without a lot of head scratching. The instructions work wonderfully well in this respect.
The usability of LEGO’s instructions clearly has helped in the company’s international success. It’s interesting to note that LEGO started using the oblique-angle line drawings in the mid-1960s, with only the color and printing quality changing (for the better) in the past four decades. Looking at pre-1960 instructions – which very much resemble architectural drawings and drew more heavily on Danish words in the instructions – it’s easy to see when the LEGO company saw its growth potential outside of Denmark and adjusted its instructions accordingly.
Black and Decker -- Handy Tool, Ignored Instructions
Size. Tough folded into a neat 5 ½ by 8 ½ inch package, the instructions for this cutting tool have to be unfolded into a poster measuring 27 ½ by 17 inches to be read fully. It’s possible to unfold only sections of the instructions in order to make handling them easier, but a poster size isn’t exactly the handiest when you’re looking for a bit of information on the new tool you’ve bought or on the used tool you’re trying to troubleshoot.
Paper quality. These instructions are printed on what appears to be ordinary office stock paper, albeit in poster size. The paper is durable enough for occasional use, but continued use in messier areas would quickly make these instructions fall apart. Luckily, that may not be a significant hazard (see discussion on place of use).
Layout. My first general impression of the layout is one of confusion. At the bottom of the first page, after an introduction in English, Spanish words appear just above the fold. I have assumed on more than one occasion that the placement of Spanish at the fold meant what followed was also in Spanish, so I opened the instructions further, without looking below the fold, to find English words. I found them, but found them mid-sentence. English does continue below the fold; the placement of the Spanish paragraph fooled me.
Because of the way this pamphlet is folded, the instructions are printed in columns that match with the folds. They’re wide, justified columns. Nearly everything is done in lists, either numbered, with alpha characters or with bullets. There appears to be no rhyme or reason in the use of numbers, letter and bullets for emphasis, possibly revealing that some sections of these instructions were pulled from a generic set of instructions written for a wide variety of tools, while other sections were written specifically for this tool.
Section headers are present, but only one, “Operation,” is presented in a way that helps it stand out from the otherwise gray sea of words (“Operation” is set in white on a black bar that crosses an entire column.) Other sections of the instructions appear to be started with safety warning specific to the task described (work area maintenance, battery charging, warnings specific to this tool), but there is no “at a glance” distinction between these sections. The layout includes six figures and two tables (discussed in the “Graphics” section of this analysis).
Type selection. The type in these instructions is sans-serif, likely Arial or something similar. Leading is tight and the type face is small, making the instructions hard to read in poor light conditions. The type is justified.
Graphics. As mentioned earlier, these instructions have two tables. The first, discussing symbols that “may” appear on the tool’s labels, is presented in a way that it’s meant to be read as a paragraph, rather than as something to refer to. The second table is presented in reference to discussion in the instructions on use of the tool with extension cords. The first table is more helpful, as the novice user may be unfamiliar with the symbols present on the too, but the second is of marginal use, since the average tool user isn’t going to fuss over what type of extension cord to use with the tool, but, rather, will use whatever extension cord is handy.
There are also six line drawings included in these instructions. They are lumped together and numbered, the numbers referring to places in the text. Despite a long search, I never could find a reference to Drawing 1 in the instructions. To refer to the other drawings, the reader must jump from text to drawing in order to make visual sense of what is being said. The drawings could just as easily been included in context in the instructions themselves, making such jumping – and likely some of the text – unnecessary.
Place of use. To be honest, the place these instructions are most likely to be used are in a paper on instruction usability. There may be users who will keep these instructions with the product in a workshop, garage or shed. It’s likely these users will consult the instructions on an occasional basis in messy situations, so it’s clear the paper used may have durability issues. However, I believe most users of these instructions are like me – we look at them cursorily, may consult them for the first battery charging either in the shop or in the house, but then, more likely or now, will set them aside and simply use the tool, consulting the instructions only if the use of a feature is unclear. I haven’t used these instructions in any capacity since I got the tool two years ago, until I fished them out for this paper. For those like me who look at them then store them for long periods of time, the paper type and general layout and composition of the instructions is adequate.
Intended audience. The intended audience for these instructions is limited to the novice user who is overcautious about using power tools. A jack-of-all-trades or an expert tool user might glance at the instructions, but this user is more likely than not to set the instructions aside and use the tool without consulting them. Troubleshooting is more likely to take place in consultation with other users, rather than with the instructions. These users are also more likely to consult with other users if they’re considering using this tool on materials or in ways they’re not familiar with.
Conclusion
Now, I’ve been hard on good ol’ Black and Decker. Truth be told, comparing Black and Decker instructions alongside LEGO instructions is patently unfair, because the necessity of instructions for one product is unclear, while it is clear for the other. Anyone marginally familiar with hand-held power tools can pick up the Black and Decker CutSaw, spend a few moments looking at the buttons, adjustments, blades and attachments on the tool and know how to use them, with only cursory references to the instructions. Building a LEGO set and having it look exactly as it does on the packaging, without having instructions to refer to, sounds to me like a much more frustrating endeavor, including the consideration that LEGO is prone to tossing in extra parts with every set.
So why should a tool capable of cutting fingers off be easier to use without instructions than a toy that, at worst, can make your foot hurt if you step on it in the dark? It has to do with the knowledge already possessed by the user. A person purchasing a hand-held power tool is likely to have used such tools before and is thus familiar with the common place warnings on battery charging, storage and use of such beasts. Using a drill presents similar challenges and hazards as using a CutSaw. Those who write instructions for such tools know their work is going to be ignored 90 percent of the time. A person purchasing a LEGO set, however, while familiar with other LEGO sets, is bound by the necessity to have what is built appear exactly as the product photographed on the box. Familiarity with other LEGO sets does not easily translate into building a new set, as the pieces and their assemblage vary from set to set. A person using a CutSaw to size a two-by-four has to know that the battery is charged, the blade is in place and that fingers are securely tucked away before proceeding. That comes from experience, not from an instruction manual. A person building a new LEGO set may know how pieces fit together generally, but without the instructions provided, the time spent building will be longer and more frustrating without referring to the instructions. The LEGO instructions are part of the product. The CutSaw instructions are not.
