Observation in Interactivity

This assignment sort of began in reverse. After noticing peculiar interaction with a device we all likely use several times a week, I decided to compare this to the more common type of interaction to which we are most accustomed. The identity of the device itself should be easily implied, but certain conditions sometimes cause a change in activity.

The user approaches the device with relative ease and familiarity but sometimes must meet certain conditions in order to even approach it. These conditions include entering a foreign building, using a small plastic card to unlock a door leading to the device, and more and more commonly, walking up to a freestanding device right on the street. The device is ubiquitous.

Once facing the device, the user either sticks a plastic card into a slot or slides it through a card reader. The user must then enter a code on a keypad or directly onto the device’s screen which offers the user a series of options. The apparent user success rate for these types of devices is high. The user typically walks away from the device with his or her card, some green paper, and a white piece of paper containing a record of the exchange.

For most, this is a completely emotionless experience. The user’s countenance remains unchanged while completing the series of steps. Aside from the age old time killer consisting of anxious movements by the unused hand, there is not much physical activity between steps. Some users make the experience more fun by exaggerating motions – a sweeping arm throwing the hand to the card slot, rhythmic button pressing, or perhaps a fist pump at the sight of green paper.

However, some devices have a much lower user success rate. One such machine in Austin, Texas made for some interesting observations. Located in a rather desolate part of town, the device stood between two restaurants. The user that piqued this writer’s curiosity began scanning the neighborhood when he should have nearly completed is encounter with the device. Something about the encounter chagrined him. He took to the green paper, but walked away appearing confused and angry.

Other users expressed similar dissatisfaction with this particular machine. After reaching what appeared to be the same step in the process, several walked away without the success marked by the acceptance of green paper. A few had choice words for the inanimate device. An equal few called over their walking companions for what appeared to be reassurance.

It is interesting to note that the design of the machine, similar to the freestanding variety found on the street described here, is as close to human as any machine we encounter with such frequency. Its height is that of an adult. The card swipe, the ‘hand shake’ as it were, is the greeting that determines the future of our brief relationship with it. We stare at its face, and if we provide accurate information, it rewards us with green bank notes that we are all too happy to accept from nearly any human being.

Since I was due a trip to one anyway, I decided to try the device myself. The step that caused such a stir on this otherwise sparsely occupied street was one in which the machine would provide the service requested if the user agreed to give it $3.95 in return. I suddenly found myself exercising some of the same motions of those who preceded me. I looked around the neighborhood without another device in sight, and I certainly had a few choice words to offer it.

Alas, I needed the green notes, which I suspect is the reason why others decided to complete the experience as well. To the machine’s credit however, it was very friendly to use, and it issued the finest (albeit only) green paper I’ve ever exchanged for $3.95.