I can’t be sure if this is how it happened, because it was so long ago, but I remember it going like this. There’s a discussion on the internet about some software that has been updated. Previously, a particular feature of this software could be accessed with three mouse clicks; now it takes two mouse clicks.

If you can let the user do the same thing with less effort, it’s an improvement.

But… a mouse click takes so little effort. One less click seems like such a minor improvement that it’s barely worth mentioning. Yet people were talking about it, making comparisons to other software, as if one less click seemed like a big deal. Why would you make a big fuss over one less click? I thought it was very curious and maybe silly to even mention it, let alone make a big deal out of it. Yet at the same time, somehow, it seemed strangely important to me as well.

The mystery is: what is it that makes such a small thing seem like a much bigger thing than it actually is?

It doesn’t seem to be explained by the reduction in effort, which is very slight. Is it because the action can be repeated, and therefore all those clicks add up? A certain piece of software can be used over a long period of time, after all. But that still seems like an inadequate explanation. If it turns out, for example, that this particular action, having been reduced by one click, is actually rarely performed, then it would still seem to be highly notable. Even if this action were to be performed 1% of the time. That makes it even more baffling.

What the heck is going on here?

A fraction of the time, all the time

The reason why it seems so notable is that the change also affects the user’s relationship to the design. Whenever you use something, whether it’s a piece of software or a physical object, you have a relationship with it. The fuss about one less click has to do with what it means for the relationship. Changes in the design can have consequences for the relationship.

If a feature is used 1% of the time, an improvement to that feature may not necessarily be experienced as an improvement 1% of the time, because it may also improve the relationship. And the relationship is not there 1% of the time.

It is always there.

How and when do changes in the design affect the relationship? That’s just one of those things you won’t know until you see the user in action. You could see a small improvement in the relationship… no improvement in the relationship… or perhaps a surprisingly large improvement in the relationship.

The reverse is also true. You would think that getting rid of an almost never used feature wouldn’t be problematic. But how would getting rid of that feature affect the relationship? Maybe it wouldn’t change the relationship. Or maybe, it would cause the relationship to deteriorate.

Having to make such considerations certainly makes the design process seem like a minefield.

That reminds me of a similar phenomenon about powerful sports cars. What’s the point of all that power if you rarely use it? A driver could reply with “it’s good to know it’s there”, or something to that effect. Well, I say that it is a similar phenomenon, but actually, it is the very same thing. The power of the sports car may rarely be tapped into, say, 1% of the time. But the mere presence of that power strongly affects the driver’s relationship with the car. Because the relationship is there always, it can be said the power is used always.

I guess the lesson here is: design is complicated, okay?