If I link to a listicle, it has to be good enough to overcome my unnaturally strong negative feelings about those types of article. Alas, Mike Fishbein’s 4 steps to make experimentation a repeatable process in your business is that good. It’s a great overview of the importance of hypothesis testing over “requirements gathering” in product management:

Most new products fail, and most frequently because they do not meet user needs. Running experiments helps product managers validate customer demand for a product concept earlier in the product lifecycle.

By running experiments instead of launching a minimum viable product, product managers in large organizations can gain more autonomy, limit risk and brand exposure, and gain user insights even earlier in the product lifecycle. With this speed to user insight, product managers become better informed to build successful products.

I also especially liked this bit:

In the next evolution of product management, the product leader’s role shifts from making bold assumptions to fostering a culture that encourages learning in an efficient and effective way.

Scott Sehlhorst wrote a really good defense of good product roadmaps in Features do not a Product Roadmap Make:

If your roadmap says “Will include update quantity control in shopping cart” you’re doing it wrong.  Your roadmap should say “Improved shopping experience on mobile” or “Better shopping experience for spearfisher  persona.” […]

When a roadmap is being used to communicate “what” the product will be, it should be in the language of describing which problems will be addressed, for whom, or in what context.  This is the most important type of theme which would be part of a thematic roadmap.  Other themes could be “improve our positioning relative to competitor X” or “fill in a missing component in our portfolio strategy.”

And this, in the context of agile, is a great point as well:

A backlog – a prioritized list of features – is not a roadmap. It is a reflection of a set of design choices which happen to fulfill in product what the roadmap sets out as a manifestation of strategy.

A roadmap tells you both “why” and “what;” a backlog tells you only “what.”

This reminds me of an article I wrote in 2011 called Product roadmaps are safe. Good times.

Marty Cagan has some really insightful thoughts (as usual) on autonomous teams in Autonomy vs. Mission:

In healthy teams and organizations, the way we normally reconcile these views [where the team might have one perspective and the leadership might very well have another] is that the leadership has control of two major inputs to the decision process. The first is the overall product vision, and the second are the specific business objectives assigned to each team.

Problems arise if the leadership does not provide clarity on these two critical pieces of context. If they don’t, there’s a vacuum and that leads to real ambiguity over what a team can decide and what they can’t.

The section on how to ensure consistency in design across different teams is also really good:

In the name of empowerment and also speed, my personal preference is to invest in the necessary automation (with pattern libraries and style guides) so that the team can get the design (interaction and visual) mostly right pretty easily, and acknowledge that on occasion, you will incur some “design debt” where we realize that the design needs to be corrected, and that’s fixed as soon as the problem is spotted. I like this approach because the manager of design is still responsible for developing a strong set of designers, but doesn’t have to be in the review cycle for everything (which tends to slow things way down, as well as undermine autonomy).

Charles Fishman’s They Write the Right Stuff is an incredible profile of the engineers who write software for NASA’s space shuttle missions:

How do they write the right stuff?

The answer is, it’s the process. The group’s most important creation is not the perfect software they write — it’s the process they invented that writes the perfect software.

It’s the process that allows them to live normal lives, to set deadlines they actually meet, to stay on budget, to deliver software that does exactly what it promises. It’s the process that defines what these coders in the flat plains of southeast suburban Houston know that everyone else in the software world is still groping for. It’s the process that offers a template for any creative enterprise that’s looking for a method to produce consistent—and consistently improving—quality.

The article goes on to explore the four propositions that underly everything this team does. Also see if you can spot what’s different about their working hours…

Jessica McKellar gives some fantastic career, management, and leadership advice in This Is What Impactful Engineering Leadership Looks Like. The interview goes into detail on three main areas:

“When engineering management is done right, you’re focusing on three big things,” she says. “You’re directly supporting the people on your team; you’re managing execution and coordination across teams; and you’re stepping back to observe and evolve the broader organization and its processes as it grows.” 

Even though the interview is focused primarily on engineering teams, it’s applicable to all types of leadership and management. Highly recommended.

My day didn’t start great. The first thing I read was Michael Dubakov’s statement about enterprise software people (i.e., people like me) in Enterprise software vendors have no taste:

My current theory is that enterprise software vendors have no taste. CEO, VP of development, Product managers that focus on enterprise market — all of them have no fucking taste. There is no taste in companies [sic] DNA, nobody cares about design and aesthetic. Profits, revenue, sales and new features — yes! Beautiful design — no.

Nobody, you guys. Literally nobody. I guess I don’t blame Michael for this false cause fallacy. It sure seems like a logical conclusion: product bad, therefore product person bad. As with most things, though, it’s more complicated than that.

Let’s start with the most difficult thing about designing in the enterprise space: in most cases, the people who buy the software and the people who use the software are completely different, and therefore have completely different needs. This is not a problem in the consumer market, where the person who gives you money is usually also the person who uses your product.

The people who buy enterprise software — IT managers, HR managers, etc. — care about things like configurability, control, more features than a competitor, and most of all: the ability to customize the thing just so, so that it fits in with whatever systems already exist. End users care about none of those things. They care about getting a job done as quickly and with as much enjoyment as possible.

So, what happens is what happens in most organizations that rely on outside sales. Many Sales teams go out and sell things that don’t exist in the product. And they often sign contracts that have two things in it that make designers wake up in a cold sweat: (1) a list of features (or — ugh, I hate this term so much — “product requirements”), and (2) delivery dates.

Product people then have to fulfill the needs of the contract/promise (as opposed to the needs of end users) in never enough time. Instead of having the time to understand a problem and user needs, building hypotheses and testing them, and taking time to iterate, they make a thing to hit a deadline and then move on to the next thing that has a deadline.

And that’s why enterprise software looks the way it looks. It’s not that product people don’t have taste. It’s that they don’t have agency.

But, I do want to say, there are welcome signs that this is changing. There is a new realization that the needs of buyers and end users can co-exist peacefully, and the result is better products. As an example, our new CEO is a huge advocate for design, and is pushing the organization to create “simple, smart, beautiful products.” This will take time, of course, but if you look at the new suite of apps that we’re working on, you’ll see that these are starting to look more like consumer products.

There are other things I think we can do to help along this shift:

• Train sales teams on the ins and outs of product development. How prioritization works, how long things generally take, what the major user needs are that the product is trying to solve, etc. If they have more knowledge about how their promises affect the teams, it will go a long way to change behavior.
• Spend as much time with end users as possible, record the sessions, and share it widely. Nothing gets an organization riled up about good design like seeing end users struggle with a product.
• Start on a small product that no one cares about (like the mobile site maybe?). Follow a Lean UX process (or whatever methodology you subscribe to). Build it well, and show people the results. Then start moving the process into other areas.

So, anyway. Yeah, enterprise software is still, for the most part, pretty bad. It’s time for us to break out of the constraints of the past that caused that, and do something better. It’s actually a good time to be in enterprise software. There’s so much opportunity, and a newfound agency for designers. I’m optimistic. The day can only get better from here.

I’ve been thinking about product feedback. We do alot of it at Jive, since most of our work happens in the open. It’s one of my favorite things about Jive and I wouldn’t change it for the world. We all want to make the best product possible, and you can only get that if you put everyone’s heads together.

So I’ve been thinking about how we can make sure we give each other good feedback. I went back and reviewed some of the things I’ve learned over the years about what makes product feedback useful. I wanted to share three articles in particular that have been really helpful to me. I’m going to try to use these techniques more, and I invite you to join in.

First, Mike Monteiro wrote a great post called How To Give Better Design Feedback (it’s now mysteriously gone from the internet, but I managed to resurrect a copy from my Pinboard archive and post it on Evernote). This part, in particular, is a great point to remember:

First rule of design feedback: what you’re looking at is not art. It’s not even close. It’s a business tool in the making and should be looked at objectively like any other business tool you work with. The right question is not, “Do I like it?” but “Does this meet our goals?” If it’s blue, don’t ask yourself whether you like blue. Ask yourself if blue is going to help you sell sprockets. Better yet: ask your design team. You just wrote your first feedback question.

Cemre Güngör’s How to give better product feedback is also a great article to go through, and this is some good advice:

Describe objectively what you expected and what the product delivered (or fail to deliver). Speak about your particular experience “I got confused when I used this…” instead of generalizing “This is confusing…” or speaking of hypothetical user-beings “Users will get confused…”. This should help disarm the team and empathize.

The worst kind of generalizations speak on behalf of the whole wide world: “Nobody will like/use this”. Being dramatic is unlikely to make the product team start thinking about their work in a new context and change their ways.

But my favorite article on this, because it provides such a great framework for feedback, is Jared Spool’s Moving from Critical Review to Critique. The whole thing is fantastic, and it goes over how to structure a good review. Here’s the gist:

What makes a critique different from a critical design review is we are not there to find flaws. We’re there to learn from the design and to explore where it works well and where it could be improved.

In a well-run critique, we explicitly separate out the discussion of “What are we trying to do with this design?” from the discussion of “Does this rendition accomplish it?” By separating out these two pieces, we avoid digging into the designer’s work just because they unaware of a critical requirement or need.

This part is particularly effective:

The audience also now can explore the design. Often this is done, not with critical commentary, but with exploratory questions. “Have you thought about how users will share the photos with their friends?” “Have you considered how the application works when there’s no network connectivity?”

By posing their thoughts as questions, the designer can say whether they’d thought about that issue or not. If they have, it gives them a nice chance to talk about their thinking. If they haven’t, well, they just say, “No, hadn’t thought about that yet.”

If you have any other tips on giving good feedback, please let me know!

Lukas Mathis’ False Dichotomies is a great post about how quickly design feedback can turn into an argument about the wrong things:

In creative endeavors, tribal, black and white thinking can be problematic, because it prevents you from noticing all possible options. Whenever the discussion veers from «how can we solve this problem» to «should we pick option A or option B», you need to take a step back, and ask yourself — and your team — if these are really the only two options.

Is there any kind of middle ground?

Are there entirely different approaches we didn’t consider?

Are there valid concerns the other group is raising, and can we take these concerns into account without completely dismissing our own concerns?

Steve Barnett makes some great points on long-term planning in Plans, Details, Dates, and The Future1. I especially like the point about how user research fits into planning:

Before development starts on a new bit of work, you should be building prototypes and doing user testing with them. This always results in some changes to the plan, and often results in rather large charges. You can’t plan what these changes will be: you don’t know until you’ve done your user testing.

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1. And bless his heart for using an Oxford comma. ↩

The Paradox of Empathy is such a great post by Scott Jenson that I pretty much want to quote the whole thing. But I’ll stick with just this one gem, and encourage you to read it in full. It is a fantastic exploration of empathy in design, and includes a framework for making empathy part of our everyday work in a very practical way:

Designers will be the first to admit that not every empathic observation leads to a miraculous insight. However, it’s called “Design Thinking” for a reason: it’s how we process and explore, taking a complex problem and breaking it down before we build it back up. Product managers seem to expect a designer to walk up to a product, say something brilliant, and drop the mic. Experienced designers deeply understand a simple fact: design isn’t a deliverable, it’s a process. A process paved with dozens of small empathic observations that lead you, slowly, iteratively to a better product.

The problem for us designers is that our fellow teammates don’t always think this way and unfortunately, we as a community don’t reflect on this difference. It’s ironic that designers are passionate about how a product interacts with people but not how they themselves interact with their team.