Let’s start designing experiences that don’t suck
Yesterday I had a relatively common medical procedure. It was the first time I had experienced this procedure but something that will be completed hundreds of times a day across the country. I arrived feeling reasonably relaxed. I thought I had a fair idea of what was about to happen, and as the daughter of a nurse, I have huge respect for, and trust in, the medical profession.
I was given a form that asked a range of questions I didn’t know the answers to (but could have found the answers if I’d known they would be asked ahead of time). I was then taken to a room, asked to pop on a gown and then moved straight into the procedure. Efficient, cold, uncaring. I was asked if this was my first time, but even when I said it was, the response was not… ok this is what you can expect to happen, it was “it’s not as bad as people say”.
So I went blindly through the said procedure. When it was complete, I thought I could get dressed, and that would be that. Nope, I was then taken to a waiting area (still wearing my quite revealing gown and holding my smalls) with other people waiting for what I assumed were other procedures as they weren’t wearing the sexy gowns. I didn’t know what I was waiting for or who I was waiting for.
After 15 minutes of awkwardness and a determination not to make eye contact, I was taken into another procedure room by a nurse who apologised that she wasn’t aware I was even there. I was told the doctor would be in shortly. This is where I started catastrophising. Obviously, if they were bringing in a doctor, who I didn’t know I needed to see, in fact, wasn’t even aware they had doctors in the building, then clearly I only had weeks to live.
The doctor came in and abruptly left as she didn’t have my notes with the incomplete forms. When she came back, she started a second procedure, one I had no clue was part of the package deal my doctor had clearly signed me up for. Of course, at this point in my head, I was writing goodbyes to my loved ones. Two minutes later, it was all done, all clear, no threat to life, and I was free to go.
This rant is not to point the finger at the clearly hard-working and under pressure health care system that I’m very grateful to have access to but more to point out that designing human-centred experiences doesn’t have to mean significantly more time or cost. A few very simple tweaks would have completely changed this experience for me.
Tell me in advance what I need so I can come prepared
Explain to me what is about to happen (and by whom) so I know what to expect
Buy a curtain, so I don’t have to “hang out” with strangers at my most vulnerable moment
Automate your systems, so you're not reliant on pieces of paper or another human to tell you I’m there
So how would this organisation get this insight and know how to improve the experience? This too can be low cost:
Have someone go through the process alongside a client experiencing the process for the first time. Ask them how they are feeling at each step.
Interview people who have recently been through the experience, and ask them to walk you through each step of that from their perspective and how they felt.
At the very least, go through it yourself. Walk in your clients’ shoes and imagine it’s your first time doing each part of the experience - how did you feel?
My challenge to you - what’s the waiting room robe moment for your clients, and how can you redesign it to make it more human?