Análisis Univariado

surrounded by mauve decor,

busily preparing deliverables?

“How,” I wondered, “could someone with gusto in his soul spend his days surrounded by mauve decor, busily preparing deliverables? How could I work with people who don’t respect understanding but instead do things because they’ve always been done a certain way?” I needed an escape plan.

I sought advice from a former boss. “How do I get out of a mauve cubi-cle? How do I find something I truly believe in? How can I work in some way that really makes a difference?”

She directed me to a lifework class. “It’s 10 weeks. It’s cheap. You’ll love it.”

Most of us in the class were government contractors. During the first week, we talked about our jobs. During the second week, we took time to dream about what we would be doing if we could do anything—no limitations; only dreaming. In weeks three through eight, we examined our pasts and reviewed our goals.

In week nine, I quit my job.

I hadn’t planned to quit my job, exactly. But I was part of a team dis-missed because of a contractual meltdown. My contractor boss offered to find me another role. “Perhaps,” he said in all seriousness, “you could work for Norm.” Would you like that?”

I reflected on what I had learned in lifework class. I was searching for work I loved. I felt in my heart that I wanted to enable others to find their way through information, and I believed in Wurman’s call for in-formation businesses that emphasized supporting others. I also knew I wanted to teach.

So when my boss said, “You can keep a job with us if you want to work for Norm,” I thought, “I wouldn’t love to work for Norm. I have to find

work I love—right now.” So I quit, and I officially became a full-time in-formation architect.

Of course, in 1995, there were some difficulties. For example, almost no one knew what an information architect was.

An User’s Advocate

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!!”

I screamed at myself soon after leaving my job. (I had been raised in a small town in a protective environment, raised to accept a good job with a good corporation.) Instead, I had quit my job to enter a field that didn’t exist.

So I questioned my decision with shrill, terror-stricken howls. I repeat-ed, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!” as I tried to see leaving my job as a positive move into independent consultancy.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO????”

I also heard that message in my head, but I decided it must be the voice of my mother, who had often expressed concerns about the work I would do. What would I do? I could still type, and write, and create de-liverables. Why, I could even find another job.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO BE????”

That question had pestered me for years. Somewhere along the way I had come to believe that people are their occupations.

You ARE a fireman.

You ARE a lawyer.

Can someone really BE an information architect? I felt I could.

I’ve always been slightly belligerent—the kind of guy who asks “Why?”

far beyond the point where it’s considered cute. Whyness has always pervaded my professional self.

“Why is it,” I wondered, “that writers, people with tangible skills, can-not make their value understandable to corporate America? Why is business so content to deliver documents-from-hell to their custom-ers and uscustom-ers? Why don’t uscustom-ers complain? Why do they accept what they are given? Why are they so passive when information has so much possibility?

I left the mauve cubicle just as electronic communication began to change our lives. In my first month on my own, I visited a former col-league. “Let me show you this,” he marveled. “It’s called a home page.”

At that time, I was tempted to become a communication product de-veloper—especially as salaries for product builders were growing—but I couldn’t quite go there. My interest did not lie in developing products.

I needed to follow a gut feeling that I should spread a message: Good information structure matters to people. You can structure information so people can find what they want, use it, and appreciate the experi-ence. I became evangelical, and I began to teach more. I became an ad-vocate for improving users’ understanding.

I appreciate the opportunity to work with others who envision clear structure, fight for plain language, and devise ways to help humans.

I treasure moments of discovery when a student or client suddenly sees the light. I recall a facilitating session where I worked with a team exploring ways to put content online. I could tell one attendee was be-coming frustrated when suddenly he exploded, “Oh, I get it—people don’t want to sift through reams of detail to get to the information they want!”

A Teacher

Last semester I was introducing myself to my class on information ar-chitecture and the user experience. Now beginning its 12th year, the class is a place where Washington-area students can gather and explore the field.

“I don’t always call myself an information architect,” I told students at the beginning of class. Several stared at me in surprise.

“As information architects, we explore labels.” I offered. “If the label re-fers to the specific analyses performed by user-experience professionals, then the label doesn’t fit me.” (I’m no longer in the deliverable business.)

“But when the label is used to refer to someone who believes in making the complex clear, then you’ll find I embrace the term passionately.”

I’ve now spent 15 years embracing, questioning, avoiding, and accept-ing the label “information architect.” Fortunately, I remain passionate about my work. I like teaching people to see—helping folks better un-derstand the implications of information structure, sharing strategies for helping others, and experiencing the inherent possibilities of good information architecture.

It’s the kind of work I always wanted to do when I grew up.

About the Author

Thom Haller, teacher, speaker, writer, and user advocate—teaches prin-ciples of performance-based information architecture and usability.

Since 1998, Thom has taught classes on architecting usable Web and Intranet sites. As a teacher, Thom enables students to structure infor-mation so people can find it, use it, and appreciate the experience. A noted speaker and facilitator, Thom is funny, passionate, and inclusive.

He creates change in organizations, infusing his optimism and showing how we can make the complex clear.

For ten years (1998-2008), Thom led the information architecture con-sultancy, Info.Design, Inc. He also served as Executive Director for the Center for Plain Language.

Web: www.thomhaller.com Twitter: thomhaller

T-Systems Multimedia Solutions Berlin, Germany