Sigit Adinugroho

December 2, 2011

The Iron Doors

filed in:
Work

So I had this lengthy discussion with somebody who claimed himself truly experienced in startups, information technology and businesses in general. I met him in one restaurant in Plaza Senayan a couple of days ago. I deliberately asked him for a meeting to discuss about the possibility to help with an iOS app I'm designing for Ransel Kecil, my Indonesian-language travel blog.

I won't discuss about the details about the app I'm designing, but for sure, the whole concept is not something entirely new. I just utulized some existing technology, and the content is what I'm focusing more of. There's a habit-changing aspect of this app that I also want to bring on to the table.

Long story short, I explained things to him. Immediately, as I expected, he would say, "So, what's your offering?"

I stopped speaking for a bit, and thinking what this could all mean. This must be about money. I said to him that for my entire life, there's a little chance that I could afford him, so I was trying to engage him in this project as a partner instead.

Turned out it wasn't easy. But I was prepared for this. As a designer myself, I know how picky ourselves are regarding projects that we put our partnership in.

His worries deal less with the production of the app, but more on the continuity and sustainability of it. There's of course financial aspect in it. Would it make sensible return of investments? It all comes down to the money. In cases where an app requires a dedicated server or backend infrastructure, the cost will continue to rise if users love it.

As for my own app, he thinks it's a good concept, only that it's technically resource-intensive, and judging on the character of Indonesian app users, it will not make good success. Indonesian users are lazy pricks. They are not good content producers, if we are to speak about user-generated content apps. Thus some alternative ideas churned up, which was very kind of him.

At this point, he cannot decide whether he would help. I don't think he's interested, probably my concept just doesn't cut it. But that's perfectly fine. I hope to find other feasible solutions, probably to code on my own and build a web app instead. Web apps are something that I'm more closely familiar of.

All the discussion items in that meeting really opened my eyes, but also left me with one big question: Should we just pursue to do what we love and believe, or leave it to the market? I am probably such a hopeless romantic when it comes to crafting something related to what I really love to do, and getting it to the iron doors of commercialism does not seem that appealing to me. I will see.

February 23, 2011

Designers and Cocoons

filed in:
Design, Work

Recently, I discovered the joy of work. It might not be the best-paying job out there, nor should I worry much about what my future careers will be. Normally, my principles would shake. I ask questions whether I am on the right path, whether I am building myself a 'good' career. I would project myself as a better visual communication designer: extraordinary portfolio, rich experience, better education, better reputation. Do you get joy of work during that process? That's uncertain.

During my tenure at ThinkQuest, my main job is visual design. I design interfaces, I design promotional materials. These are for the sake of helping teachers and students worldwide to acquire 21st century skills through project learning, using a platform we build. Normally, I would only sit behind the desk, connected to the little world of emails, intranet systems and design work. I sometimes wear earphones. Sometimes I talk. Most of the time I don't. I don't have any counterpart locally, which means I work alone all the time. My other half of the two-men team is in the other part of the world. Three years working here and I only met him once.

Two months ago, I received a chance to look at this job pretty differently. I began to get assigned to conduct courses teaching users of our program (teachers) on implementing project learning with the program, in their schools. These are 7-hour courses, and I conduct them almost twice every week. Most of the time I'm just assisting the main instructor. I got to visit schools in Jakarta and around, met with their teachers and absorb directly the experience of knowing how end users appreciate our product.

It is overwhelming. First, I was instantly plugged in with almost daily trips and schedules I've never had before. This is not easy. With computers, you can always be sure. With people, you just don't. Think Indonesia. Second, I got to visit places I never knew of, and meet new people I seldom met before. I never knew that I could just hit a taxi and drive off to some peculiar end of the big metropolis, to find a secluded school which, despite its usual look, has superb internet connectivity and aspiring people. Third, learning how to teach people. How does it feel, after a very long time, to teach people to use your products; and to begin to think creatively how to best make them to actually use it. It's definitely beyond technical terms. You are talking to actual people here. Do you imagine how to teach technology products to a technologically-inept audience who don't always speak English? More than that, do you know how to grasp beyond technology, and hit to the bull's eye to the realisation that "I'm not teaching just about how to use it, but how to actually use it in learning process."

Designers often just sit there in a back office and forget the world. Do they meet the audience? Not always. Do you think they will use our product efficiently? Sometimes you just work based on values you create your own. Do you appreciate, despite how much monetary value they pay you to do the job, the extra mile you need to go to make your commitments more meaningful?

I think it's about time for designers to think about the impact their works have done, and to come out there and meet their audience. Feel the heat, not just the cool air of your air-conditioned working cocoon.