Buying spices in the supermarket always feels harder than it should be. I know they’re alphabetically ordered, so I look for basil between allspice and cinnamon, but fail to find it. Then I look down and see basil on a completely different shelf. I vaguely wonder why it’s on a different shelf, but I rationalise it away: “Maybe it’s a different brand or something.”
We’ve all been there. You’ve found something you want to buy online and you’re happy with the price, so you pop it in your virtual basket and head for the online checkout. It’s all going swimmingly... but you’re not going to be allowed to just buy the item. Oh, no no no. The site asks you to log in. Or perhaps it asks if you’re a new or returning customer. Or perhaps it asks you to register or create an account. Whatever the wording, it’s basically the same demand: before you can buy this item from us, you have to get into an artificial relationship with us.
I popped into the Witney branch of Robert Dyas today. Yeah, maybe I am a glutton for punishment. I found the can of WD40 I was looking for within minutes, so this isn’t another thrilling tale about my epic search for something-or-other.
Welcome to the first in an occasional series of anecdotes about usability problems. It sounds a bit grand to call them case studies because they’re really just stories, so I’m calling them Real Life Tales of Usability Fail.