Making things for people you've never met.

The people who use what I make are usually children, and I am not one.

That gap is the job.

You can close some of it with research. You sit in living rooms, you watch a five year old pick something up the wrong way round, and you learn that the feature you were proudest of is the one they walk straight past.

You cannot close all of it.

So you design for the gap instead of pretending it is not there.

That means building for the version of the person who is tired, distracted and doing three other things. Not the version who read your onboarding.

It means assuming they will use it in a way you did not plan, and making sure that path is not punished.

It means the thing has to explain itself, because you will not be standing next to them when they open the box.

I have picked up a habit. Before anything ships, I try to describe the person using it out loud, without a persona, a segment or a job title. Just a person, in a room, on a particular afternoon, with a reason to pick this up.

If I cannot do it, I do not know them well enough yet.

If I can, the decisions get easier, because most design arguments turn out to be arguments about who you are each imagining.

You will never meet most of them.

You owe them the same care as the person sitting next to you.