The building I work in consists of four two-story blocks (each about 100 feet long by 20 feet wide) arranged in a square around a central courtyard. It’s sort of like The Pentagon. But if you made the pentagon a square.
Someone in HR told me the design of the place had won awards. It’s easy to see why—at first. The building is well-sited on park-like grounds, its interior layout is unlike that of any other building I know, it offers nice views of the area, and it lets in tons of natural light through large windows and skylights. And the geometrically segmented structure of it provides a convenient way to divide up departments (also like The Pentagon).
It’s only after working in it for a while that I’ve noticed serious design flaws. All of the hallways are built for precisely one person. They’re way too narrow—42.5 inches wide, to be exact (I came in before anyone else this morning and measured.). In America, we generally like to have about two-and-a-half to three feet of personal space. So when two Americans pass in a hall four feet wide, they both have to get really close to the wall and turn slightly sideways. And we sort of squeeze in our arms and avoid eye contact like we’re apologizing for our bodies. It’s awkward, and it happens to all of us multiple times a day.
I have to imagine it’s even worse for the seriously overweight people. Sometimes they have to step into the closest cubicle alcove to let someone pass. Probably doesn’t help their self-consciousness any. Thanks, Mr. Architect, you’ve put the Fat Acceptance movement back 10 years.
There’s one stairway in a high-traffic area that is truly so narrow that only one person at a time can use it (like a ladder). If you spot someone coming down while you need to go up, you have to wait your turn. I hate to imagine what would happen on that staircase in the event of an emergency like an earthquake or a fire. Human stampede!
In another part of the building, the narrow hallway makes a 90-degree right turn followed immediately by a 90-degree left turn in small area that—with the combination of stairways, bathrooms, conference rooms, and side hallways—has six points of access. You frequently almost run headlong into other people. And this area is right next to the staff lounge. And what is one of the main things people come to the lounge for? Piping hot cups of coffee! Disaster waiting to happen. I’ve yet to hear of someone getting a scalding beverage splashed in their face, but it’s a possibility (Startled coffee drinkers sometimes splash it on the floor and walls, anyway.).
At what point does bad design become criminal? If I get a coffee or tea burn on my beautiful puss, do I get to sue the architect?
The point is that the building won awards, but it’s actually a bit uncomfortable (and maybe slightly dangerous) to work in. It just shows the difficulty of judging good design. The problems I’ve pointed out probably didn’t occur to the architect, because he was just imagining himself walking through the place. And those problems wouldn’t be apparent when taking a tour of the building, either, which is probably how the award-givers saw it. Only the users, who live in the place, can see what’s really right and wrong.
People designing software have an easier time meeting users’ needs. They just release a beta version, see what users think, then modify their original code to meet demands. This is a bit harder to do when designing something physical, and especially when designing something that’s a one-time shot—like a a building. I guess architects need to practice empathetic thinking to the point that it’s just second nature.
Why didn’t anyone ask me about this?
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