Design Matters

Sooner or later it happens to all good ThinkPads. The performance curve starts to lag, some new highly desirable feature is introduced, the newer ones are thinner/lighter, and before you know it, the “new computer bug” bites you. Typically, people like to discuss the intimate details of what new ThinkPad to buy. The purchase decision often takes months of research and in depth analysis. Oddly enough, we rarely discuss what to do with the old one. We usually become very attached to them, a bit like a trusted and time tested friend. I personally have a stack at home of nearly every ThinkPad I have ever used. The Hill archive looks like a neatly stacked cord of all black firewood. Most of them still boot up. I could tell you about each machine’s unique personality, where they have been, and even their secret quirks.

Following the BusinessWeek article, I received a great letter from a ThinkPad owner and fellow Oklahoman that felt compelled to share with me the story of his vintage ThinkPad 510C. This was an early example of the subnote class of ThinkPad. He wrote a touching story articulating his love for the machine he purchased in 1994 and how he could not bear to throw it away. So what did he do? He sent it to me via FedEx . It arrived neatly wrapped including all the original manuals, floppy disks, cables, and all the accessories. It looks almost new with nary a scratch or ding. Even the original TrackPoint cap looks fresh. He asked me to either keep it in our archives if we had such a thing, or as he put it “just give it a good burial as I can’t do it.” Truth be told, I can’t stand to throw it in the trash bin either.

I now have the “little guy” proudly on display in our design studio as an early example of ThinkPad achievement, but more importantly to remind me of how strongly people feel about ThinkPad. We aren’t just designing lifeless machines out of plastic and metal. If we do our job well, we are creating an emotional bond and a trusted friend. This is what a real brand is all about. Don’t worry Thomas, your friend is in good hands. Thanks for thinking of me.

David Hill

Enough suspense, it’s time to reveal what this thing really does. There were lots of very creative and humorous attempts, a few actually got pretty close. The machine was created, notice I did not use the term designed, to cut grooves in concrete so that a fresh layer of blacktop adheres properly. Imagine a few dozen diamond crusted blades spinning wildly as the concrete dust is flying. I’m sure the sound must have been deafening as it crawled down the highway at speeds of close to 1 MPH. The racing steering wheel makes so much sense now doesn’t it? The company would nearly give the beast away if you signed up to buy the blades from them. If you have ever purchased a diamond encrusted cutting blade, or anything else for that matter, you understand this business model perfectly. Glad you enjoyed the story about this one from my archives.

David Hill

I’ve seen a few comments about the new X300 ThinkVantage button illumination. Some people like it, others don’t. We added the illumination feature to help bring attention to the various software utilities that are quickly accessible by pressing the button. The light also helps people understand when to push the button during system start up to access the ThinkVantage pre-boot environment where you can recover important data. The subtle illumination also makes the button a bit more visible in  low light situations. It was not about blue light bling. That would be off-brand for ThinkPad design.

If you don’t like it, we have you covered. Push the ThinkVantage button, click on customize at the bottom of the menu, and select the tab called button light. This is where you can turn it off. You can also enable a MS mail checker feature that will blink the light when you have mail if you are so inclined.

David Hill

I’m a designer who lives by the credo that great design blurs the boundries between form and function. In a perfect world they support each other in a synergistic way so strongly that they are nearly impossible to separate without destroying the design. Interesting that Sapper spoke on a similar topic in his recent video I posted. Over the years I have accumulated quite a stockpile of things that exemplify this concept. I’ve blogged about many of them here on Design Matters.

Unfortunately, I have also seen many things that tilt the balance to the extreme of either pure form or pure function. Each of these gives either the design or the engineering disciplines a black eye. Designers who seek pure form can be seen as artsy beret wearing types who would readily endure sitting in an uncomfortable chair as long as it looked avant garde. Engineers conversely can be seen as robotic calculator slinging nerds who think an abandoned wooden spool would make a great coffee table .

I once was involved with a client at the design consulting firm I worked at years ago that probably created the most extreme example of pure function I have ever seen. I have carted around a well worn product shot of this machine in my personal archive for more than 25 years. I occassionaly like to break it out to illustrate exactly what I mean by pure function. It never fails to raise an eyebrow or evoke a laugh. It is so amazing that few have ever been able to guess what it actually is or does. I must admit that was my immediate reaction when I first saw it. So here it is.

Imagine being part of the design team asked to make it ” look pretty”. I think my first comment was ” nice racing steering wheel, it must really go fast”. It’s easy to imagine Willy Wonka at the wheel with puffs of colored smoke belching out of the smoke stacks as bits of candy pop out onto a conveyor belt. How can you possibly design something if you can’t even determine what it is or does? The engineering team had an arguement to rationalize the existence of every belt, cog, wheel, pulley, or bolt . They even had a reason for the steering wheel selection. The problem was that nobody could explain to us how a person would ever use it. Every decision had been made based on shortest hydraulic lines, fewest bolts, welds, or off the shelf objects. Some of the lever handles were even made from the steel punch outs for the gauges on the control panel. “Why waste them” was the engineers explanation. We were expected to bend a few slabs of sheet metal around it and make it instantly beautiful.

Fortunately for me I moved on to another company. My former colleagues were faced with the nightmare of trying to make this into something. In the end all they could do was specify a new color that looked a bit less like Smurf blue, and apply some extra large graphics to draw your attention away from visual disarray. Maybe you can guess what it does?

David Hill