UX design instructor, Jared Spool, recently tweeted the words everyone who bought anything online will be familiar with. Words that make a foreboding statement, yet plead at the same time for both of your sakes…
“Your purchase is in progress. Please do not leave this page or go back.”
Well I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me not to do something, that’s now all I can think about doing.
Should I try to call its bluff? Do what it says I shouldn’t do out of antagonistic spite? What will happen if I don’t obey?
I’ve seen some sites try to answer those questions, probably because they’ve dealt with both types of people: those who don’t read (ie. everyone) and those who like testing the waters. However, where these good intentful developers tend to get wrong is wrapping their messages with even more system-based jargon—telling me about how the database will create a null request and a black hole will open. Something to that effect.
I don't really need to know what would happen, because if the experience is desiged well, I should inherently understand the value of waiting patiently for the system to process my request. If I’m a good boy, I’ll get what I’m after, but this boy needs to have his anxieties quelled. If I get to tapping my foot or feeling like something is stuck, off the waterfall we go, it’s button smashing time.
Click click click click click, try again, go back, refresh, ESC, did it work yet? Why isn’t it working? Oh, I think I broke it.
“Design for your customers, not for your system’s processing constraints.”
Warning messages like “Please do not leave this page or go back” are written to try to stop us from interrupting their systems with our 'stupid user' impatient actions. All we’re asking for is their designs to satisfy our needs, expectations, and worries—especially when money is on the line.
Nobody likes seeing their Peanut M&Ms dangling precariously by the twisty metal hook in a vending machine after seeing their $2 get eaten with no reward. The same goes for buying a tee online or trying to book a flight, except the impact is much greater.
We’re clicking the Purchase button again when we can’t tell that our click was registered or that it’s begun silently processing it in the background.
We’re clicking Refresh in the browser when the page appears to be unresponsive.
We’re clicking Back during checkout because we might have accidentally clicked that Purchase button before we intended and needed a way to Cancel the order before it’s too late. If we were at the standing at the store counter, it’d be a lot harder to accidentally insert our cards into the point-of-sale machines before we were sure, but online it’s as easy as an errant mouse click or accidental keyboard Enter stroke.
Back-end systems get into these critical, disrupted states when the front-end applications and websites aren’t adequately designed to satisfy our expectations. Duplicate orders being made, orders that appear successful but actually failed to trigger in the back, page loading errors, and getting that package in the post that I definitely did not order, I swear, it must have been someone playing a prank on me, please don’t leave, my darling, I can explain!
I’m not saying we should remove error messages—”Please do not leave this page or go back has” it’s place and time—but let's not treat them like a cop-out for addressing underlying systemic issues in design.
This is the section where I wonder what a parallel universe would look like where the interaction design of our physical world gets the online design treatment…
Your Coke is dispensing. Please do not move your glass or it will shatter.
Your elevator is descending. Please do not request another floor or the cables will snap.
Your shower is heating up. Please do not adjust the temperature or we’ll turn it off.
Your dishwasher is running. Please do not pause it or we’ll flood your house.
Your friend is thinking. Please do not speak or their brain will implode.
We’d be afraid to touch anything! And all of the developers would be happy. Touché.