It was a cold winter morning at 6AM. The dark sky was overcast by rain clouds that were slowly but steadily approaching and all I could hope for was not to get all wet.

I took the shortcut to my workplace, slouching under my coat and layers of the warmest scarf I could find. Since I have been freelancing, the last time I spent at that workplace was about a month ago when I worked more afternoon shifts than morning ones.

I approached the big heavy gates and dialed the security code, trying to open the gate. It didn’t work.

‘’I must’ve mixed the numbers’’, I thought, and tried again. Nothing. The third failed attempt got me suspicious.

I got my phone out of my bag and turned on the torch. What I saw really surprised me.

The numbers, instead of following a well-known pattern going left-to-right like they do on phones, are stacked one under the other.

Of course I could dial the code in plain daylight when I could see the numbers, but in the dark I did what my habit has been for so many years — dialing the numbers as they are placed in phones.

That made me think about the reasoning behind the dial.

When designing products like this one, where the shape and the function of the product are not new, why would the designer create such a device that would make users prone to misdialing the numbers?

The designer seems to have forgotten that humans are creatures of habit. We are used to using a product in one specific way and we apply our knowledge and experience in using similar products as well.

The existence of a dial pad on the security lock should make the user’s life easier instead of complicating it. If the user already needs to memorize (or write down) a code, it should be the most straightforward process from entering the code to opening the gates. That process should be easy and reliable, even in low-lit conditions and especially in stressful situations (like rushing to work because the train was late).

Luckily, that day I was not late. And the rain started just as I had entered the building.