To the designers in the UK government, whose commitment to building better services has meant that this book was an idea in the first place.
To my wife Sarah, without whom this book would be just another idea on my ever-growing list.
And to Mum and Dad, whose unwavering support has meant it’s been possible for me to have ideas that turn into books.
The 15 principles of good service design
Be easy to find
Clearly explain its purpose
Set a user’s expectations of the service
Enable each user to complete the outcome they set out to do
Work in a way that is familiar
Require no prior knowledge to use
Be agnostic of organisational structures
Require the minimum possible steps to complete
Be consistent throughout
Have no dead ends
Be usable by everyone, equally
Encourage the right behaviours from users and service providers
Quickly respond to change
Clearly explain why a decision has been made
Make it easy to get human assistance
Foreword Mike Monteiro
There used to be a tree in front of our house. It was, by the entire neighbourhood’s admission, a very ugly tree. It had greyish bark, sticky sickly looking leaves, a generally unpleasing shape, and didn’t appear to be in the best of health. But it was our tree. It blocked the afternoon sun from our living room, and our dog liked to pee on it. We were glad to have it.
Then a large branch fell. A thick, heavy branch. Right onto a neighbour’s car. Luckily, no one got hurt. The neighbour’s car was a little dented, which he wasn’t happy about but, all in all, it could’ve been a lot worse. Life went back to normal. People went back to parking under the tree, and dogs went back to peeing on it. Until a few weeks later there was a heavy wind and another branch came down. The tree’s time had come. A city worker came by and taped a notice to the tree, alerting us that it was marked for removal. I wasn’t happy to lose the tree, but it was obvious the tree was now dangerous and had to go. Luckily, the notice contained a URL where I could go to ask the city for a new tree.
This is where our story takes a dark turn.
Years of dealing with local government services websites have taught me a few things. First, make sure you are alone, because you are going to get angry. Second, have your anxiety medication nearby. Carve out at least half a day. Make sure the dog’s water bowl is full. Update your will. And alert your neighbours to ignore the screams. If they look worried, just tell them you’re using a local government website. Watch as their concern turns to pity. Some of them may offer to bring you meals.
Sadly, all that preparation was in vain, because the first thing I found out on the new tree website was that, before I could get a new tree, I had to request a stump removal. Which was handled by a different department, on a different website. Also, I didn’t have a stump yet. I still had an ugly yet beloved tree. I had to wait until I had a stump.
Two weeks later, workers came, cut down the tree and left a stump. I had my prerequisite for getting a new tree. I went to the stump removal website, and asked them to remove my stump. A week later, they did. Which meant that I could now go to the new tree website to request a new tree. First question: is this a replacement tree? Easy enough. Has the stump been removed? Oh, yes! So much progress. Third question: what kind of tree do you want? Reader, there was a drop-down list. I clicked.
Let’s take a nature break. Do you know how many types of trees there are? There are a lot. There are deciduous trees, which lose their leaves with the seasons, and evergreen trees, which do not. In addition there are palm trees, banana trees and, oddly, bamboo is a tree. I didn’t know that. But I do now. Because it was listed in that drop-down list. Along with every other tree on earth. They were all in the list. Including sequoias. Now, I’m the kind of jerk that if someone is willing to plant a sequoia in front of my house, I’ll take it. So I said,