One example of quality design which I gleaned from reading Don Norman's "The Design Of Everyday Things" is the metal plate I've frequently seen on doors which are meant to be pushed.
The only affordance of such a plate is its push-ability, and the fact that someone actively installed a metal plate (instead of just relying on the door's natural flatness), as well as its location at the point of maximum leverage (all the way to the right of the door, in the door's vertical center), is a clear signifier for such push-ability.
Not only that, but it does its job without offering any other confusing affordances (such as a vertical handle which is also technically pushable, but which many would interpret as being meant to be pulled).
Whenever I need a relatable, succinct example of affordances and signifiers for my engineering comrades, I turn to this one. Anyone interested in design is doing themselves a dis-service by not reading Don Norman's classic.
Here in the UK a lot of bathrooms in pubs and other places have push to get in, and handles to get out. Never understood that, I'd like to push to get out once I've washed my hands!
Those doors are often on corridors. You don’t want them unexpectedly opening at speed into passing non-bathroom traffic. Conversely, people approaching the door from the inside will be further away as they have their hand out in readiness to pull, will expect the door to open — it’s generally lower risk.
Inside the bathroom itself, the doors on individual stalls usually open inwards. One pragmatic advantage of this approach is that if the door opens while you are seated, you can push it closed without getting up. Or requiring help from someone else outside. This also drives the use of push-in-pull-out handles.
One major disadvantage of this approach is that if you are coming in with a bulky bag, or more (hauling carry-on luggage in an airport for instance), you have sharply limited space within to maneuver you and your stuff to a position where you can lift your skirts and do what you came here to do. Every time I go to a public bathroom with stall doors that open outward I am delighted.
In the US this is a fire code issue. Doors need to swing inward to avoid people getting trapped inside from outside obstructions.
edit: I seem to be misinformed about firecode. I may also be over extrapolating from what I know about bedroom doors as well. The general idea of obstruction is more valid there. It seems the more common reason bathrooms would not be allowed to swing outward is obstructing the minimum width of hallways.
Huh. In Finland, fire code requires that external doors swing outward. It's intended to make it faster to exit the building since you can just walk forward, and to prevent people getting trapped indoors if a panicked crowd tries to push out through the door.
I believe the post above was only meant to be applied to interior doors. The explanation I've gotten in the past is interior doors open in so they don't block people outside the room, typically in a hallway, from being able to move towards the exit; Exterior doors open out so that the crowd of people rushing towards the exit can leave and you don't have a mass of panicked people stopping those at the front from having room to open the exterior doors.
FYI the international building code has a deceptive name. It's essentially the US building code.
> it is the International Building Code ... used in multiple locations worldwide, including the 15 countries of the Caribbean Community and Common Market (CARICOM), Jamaica, and Georgia. Furthermore, the IBC has served as the basis for legislative building codes in Mexico, Abu Dhabi, and Haiti, among other places.
Whist those in the USA use euphemisms such has 'bathroom' (mate, where is the bath?) or 'restroom' (I don't need a rest, I need a shit), here it is perfectly acceptable to ask the butler in Buckingham palace where the toilet is, or the bog for that matter. :-)
I ran into a door today that had a handle on the push side. Not even a crossbar - an aluminum folded-over handle, one on each of the double doors. It is, unmistakably, a pull handle, and it had "PUSH" written above it and even underlined, and still it gave me pause.
When I worked for squarespace, their beautiful new offices had glass conference room doors that swung one way, the other way, or slid on a track, depending on the room configuration.
However every one of those doors had the same handle on both sides, giving you no clue as to which scenario this door was providing. You saw people pull/push the wrong way all the time, and then look up/to the side to see the hinges and where the door stop was. I eventually mentally dubbed that quiet look upwards before you touched a door the, “squarespace peek”.
After a while I’d heard that the original plans had the typical plate and handle for push/pull and the ceo felt like it messed with the design of the doors.
It reminded me of my experience at a Japanese Onsen (hot spring) last week. While entering the Onsen, the sliding door is automated and slides to open on it’s own. While exiting, the automated sliding doesn’t work. It has handles with no indication of pull or push or slide. The design of handles suggest most probably pull. I kept trying to pull/push with no movement. Finally, realized I am supposed to use those handles to slide the door left and right. That was one funky design, imo.
Another tricky thing is figuring out how to flush the public toilets. The user interface is non standard on every toilet. The most surprising way I've encountered was to step on a button on the floor. (Remember to never press the big green button)
One of my greatest fears :p I saw someone do that one time actually, and the door that the button opened was really slow moving and irreversible until it had completed opening fully. This was on a train, with all of the passenger seats facing the door in question. The guy that did it had to quickly pull his pants up and then stand there awkwardly while the door finished opening so that he could close it again.
That design is everywhere in Japan, and can be quite embarrassing for tourists.
First time I went to Japan I walked up to my hotel late at night. I went to the door. There was no handle or obvious way to open it. I stood there like an idiot for a minute or two. I walked back out to the street to make sure I'm at the right building. I walked back to the door and finally got it. The trick... you have to wave your hand directly in front of the door an inch or two. Places in Japan often do not put the motion sensor ahead of the door, but straight down. You start feeling like a Jedi at times, waving doors open.
Usually, the doors have a strip or label indicating press/touch/wave here but typically in Japanese or hand wave/ double chevron symbols. As a visiting foreigner, we typically are not used to seeing such signage. Over the years living here, I have started to recognize tell tale signs of automated doors in Japan.
One possible saving grace for this design is that mechanical sliding doors/panels are "traditional" in Japan - ie: tradional architecture makes use of sliding doors - often without clear "handles".
There used to be a coffee shop opposite my office that had a pull handle on the push side of the double doors. The right hand side doors were also often locked. I once sat at the nearest table to the doors and watched a dozen people pull then push on the right door, then pull and finally push on the left door, and often end up visibly aggravated by the time they got in and joined the morning queue!
The next day my debugging instinct kicked in, I bought some PUSH stickers and did some covert guerrilla ergonomic stickering. Problem solved and it made me smile every time I went past that cafe!
To this day, I can't understand the thought process behind opening only one half of the door and locking the other one. I used to go around unlatching the offending doors, but got tired of it.
I see so many glass doors designed like that. The doors usually have a sticker that says “PUSH” on the push side, however the sticker is invariably printed with a transparent background so you can read it from the pull side. I don’t notice when I am reading something backwards/mirrored, so I am always pushing on the pull side…… Arrrrrrgh!
The part of my brain that deciphers the mirrored text is so proud of its stupid little achievement that it shouts down the result from the easy version so that the part that tells my hands what to do only gets the mirrored instruction. Every single time.
I can think of one door in a place I frequent for lunch like this which I have repeatedly ran into. Now, 80% of the times I start thinking about it about 20 feet away as I’m approaching it. My internal dialogue goes something like “Ignore how it looks, it’s a push door.” The other 20% of the times I still fumble the opening. It’s the most unintuitive thing I’ve experienced in a while.
I use a similar example when explaining when to document code and when to write it so it is easy to understand. When coding, if you find yourself saying “I need to document this”, you should ask first if it is easily understandable by someone with no knowledge of the code and possibly rewrite it first. Only once you have exhausted how it is written should you document it.
Everyone always nods at this but often do something else in practice, so as an example I use the real-world example of glass doors that only open one way but have identical pull handles on both sides. Users always walk up and loudly and embarrassingly push/pull incorrectly. But instead of fixing the root problem, the people who put them in think, “I know, I will document them!” and put those plaques on each side that says “Push/Pull”. And true to nature, no one reads the signs and still loudly bangs the door the wrong way only then to look at the “documentation”.
Perhaps ironically, the opposite door design (one where it’s not clear whether to push or pull) is thusly called a Norman Door [1]. The term is sometimes applied more generically beyond doors.
I’m guessing the vox office featured door has that bar because a flat metal plate wouldn’t seem right applied to glass? Going without the plate the glass would get dirty.
I like the affordability too, but it also does not take into account edge cases.
Our office door has this metal plate, it pushes outside (I believe it is that way for fire safety reasons). If there is strong wind on the outside, the door has the habit of whipping around after pushing it a bit, leading to shattered glass once every year or so.
Closing the door in strong wind also means grabbing it on the edge and pulling it, the wind kind of reverses on the last couple inches, I have no idea how that did not lead to broken fingers yet (you do it once, then you never try to close it again).
I guess it's a failing to consider all use cases of the door, and the metal plate thing should only be used indoors.
I spent about a year living in Chicago (also very windy and cold) and many office buildings use revolving doors for their exterior-facing entrances/exits. I suspect for the exact reason you mention. I can imagine what a PITA it would be to close a traditional door while battling icy-cold wind gusts.
That is a great book! There is so much discussion around doors, and rightfully so! I can never walk through an unusual door again without thinking about it since reading that chapter.
I'm currently in a country where I can't read the language and memorizing push vs pull feels so unnecessary when you could just design a door with obvious operation mechanics
While this is true I often wonder why so many of those doors don't just open towards both sides. They exist and I think it's the best compromise because it's just not possible to use it the wrong way.
The plate also makes it easier to clean as without it peoples handprints will be in a wider area. For wood doors its even better as wood can be time consuming to clean well.
I always avoid touching that metal door plate, I've gotten 'stainless steel cleaner and polish' on my hands too many times for me to consider using it again.
Now that you mention it, I do the same unknowingly. I always go for the wood above the plate, just because unconsciously I think it's cleaner than the metal plate.
They're traditionally made of brass, which is naturally anti-microbial (the copper, specifically). Not clinically secure, of course, but far better than nothing.
You can push them with a covered elbow as well, of course.
The only affordance of such a plate is its push-ability, and the fact that someone actively installed a metal plate (instead of just relying on the door's natural flatness), as well as its location at the point of maximum leverage (all the way to the right of the door, in the door's vertical center), is a clear signifier for such push-ability.
Not only that, but it does its job without offering any other confusing affordances (such as a vertical handle which is also technically pushable, but which many would interpret as being meant to be pulled).
Whenever I need a relatable, succinct example of affordances and signifiers for my engineering comrades, I turn to this one. Anyone interested in design is doing themselves a dis-service by not reading Don Norman's classic.