designing experiences

When I think about my hometown, there are a few defining experiences that come to mind. Running through Mountain Park on Thursday evenings in the fall, surrounded by the sights and smells of football in the South. Summer nights at Bruster's that seem to stretch on for hours, laughing at jokes that are still funny after retelling them for years. IHOP breakfasts and Ponko lunches. Traffic on Cole Road at 6:45 every January morning.

Sawra enjoying her iced green tea. (feel free to use with credit)

And of course, our Starbucks. We have a beautiful Starbucks that sits out on Lake Lucerne. On clear days, you can watch the ducks playing on the water. At Christmastime, lights shine across the lake, giving it an almost ethereal glow. And on stormy days, the black water will chop at the dock and patio, lending the atmosphere a pensive aura. There isn't a drive through, meaning that everyone that comes by has to stop inside the little shop and say hi. For the past ten years, since I've been able to drive, Starbucks has become a staple of our Lilburn routine. Meeting friends for a cup of coffee, writing a paper for my research project, or having a conversation that changes everything - that Starbucks has played host to a number of memorable moments, in my life and in others.

It's amazing how that atmosphere, that design changes things. Because it's a small shop, because there are only a few well-worn couches and small tables, because there is no drive through, the ambiance inside that Starbucks is far less commercial than any chain coffee shop I've ever been into. The manager once told me that that particular location has one of the highest percentages of "regulars" of any Starbucks in the nation. As for me, three or so mornings a week, I'll stop in for my green tea and vanilla bean scones (you have no idea how good these things are). Patty and Shanna know what my order will be before I get to the counter. I'll say hi to Joe and Greg, and wave at the police officer who has undoubtedly stopped in for a drink before getting on with their shift. The experience of Starbucks has come to mean more than just scones and tea - it's come to mean that I will always walk out in the mornings with a smile.

Today, that Starbucks is closing. The landlord has decided not to renew the lease, and despite being very busy and very profitable, tomorrow, after a beautiful white Christmas in Atlanta, the doors won't open.

The best experiences are the ones that linger for days, weeks after they're over. It's one thing to be able to create that kind of experience with a one-time event - a special outing, a big celebration. It's another to design an environment that consistently leaves people walking out with a smile. I will miss my Starbucks, for sure. Although I may find a replacement for my morning tea and scones, I will not find a replacement for the experience that changed my mornings.

what is your relationship with money?

Not sure if any of you are Bank of America customers, but I dropped by IDEO Palo Alto on Friday afternoon to have a conversation with Altay Sendil about the emotional and human aspects of the goods and services we use.

(photo courtesy of... )

The Keep The Change program (I'm not a BofA client) is one of my favorite examples of good design strategy. When BofA was looking at creating an easy savings account, the questions started (predictably) about how we use savings accounts - about interest rates, linked accounts, online tracking, and other functionality that we classify as "account features". But the interesting question is not how we save, but why we save. What is our savings paradigm? Fundamentally, how do we interact with money? What are our deep-seated attitudes, our internal scripting about spending and savings?

Understanding the why was important to making the how work. The Keep The Change program is very well-received in the consumer banking arena.

Microfinance in developing countries caters to similar attitudes. Repayment rates for microlending in Bangladesh are unbelievably high - not because people are more capable than in other countries to repay the loans, but because the lending structure - the women-centric, group-accountability, installment-structured system of lending - works for the villagers who take the money. The process fits with their relationship to money and the way they view capital and investments.

I have a Way2Save account with Wachovia (Wells). As I build my own financial paradigms and explore my attitudes toward wealth and savings, it's been interesting to take a deeper look at how I interact with money, and to talk to others (including my parents) about how they deal with their own finances. About saving and spending. About the things that I value and what I'm willing to pay for them. About creation and consumption.

So how do you interact with your savings? When you were growing up, what did you learn about saving and spending? Ultimately, what is your relationship with money?

the internet is full

Flying from ATL to SFO tonight, and was going to post earlier about use case, airports, and long flights, but as GoGo informed me, "the internet is full."

Seriously, though, kudos to Google for sponsoring free wifi through the Holidays.

See you on the West Coast!

the difference between health and public health

For the second time in two months (and despite getting a flu shot), I'm sick. This is strange for two reasons; the first being that I grew up in a developing country and have an immune system bolstered by 1+ billion people living in an area smaller than half the United States; the second, because I'm a relatively healthy individual who exercises regularly, doesn't (didn't used to) get sick often, and maintains a fairly healthy diet (sleep schedule notwithstanding).

(photo courtesy of... )

If I had to guess, I picked something up at work. Because workplaces, like elementary schools, are incubators for illnesses. It's all fine and well to be a healthy individual with a strong immune system, but throw that healthy individual into a building for 9+ hours a day with others of varying immune capabilities, and it makes no difference how healthy they were to begin with. Essentially, I need my coworkers to stay healthy if I plan on staying healthy, and I derive a very real benefit (in economic terms, an externality) from my team not being sick.

That's the difference between health, and public health. Healthcare, like education, provides benefits not only to the individual that purchases the good, but also externalities to others in society such as increased productivity, lowered disease transmission, and reduced microbial resistance to medication.

Here's the real kicker (and especially in the context of healthcare reform): if all of society derives these benefits from me not being sick, who in society deserves to pay for my health? We've managed to answer that question in education - society pays to educate its children because society benefits from an educated population. Should society be paying for healthcare when that society derives benefit from a healthy population?

And let's take it one step further. In the developing world, individuals cannot afford to pay for the most basic of health services. In these places, though, because of the prevalence of infectious disease, keeping individuals healthy delivers huge impact to others in the population. Globally, preventing an outbreak of infectious disease in Niger means a smaller chance of a compromised population in Atlanta.

So, today's good question: who should pay to keep people healthy?