The User Experience of Getting Out of a Parking Garage
Early in March this year, my husband and I went on a date for the first time since B.C. (Before Covid). It was very low key, considering that we were still experiencing the tail end of the Omicron wave and did not want to do too much for our first official outing. We parked the car in a big downtown underground parking garage, saw a play at a historical theater, then walked back to retrieve our car.
As we arrived at the garage, imagine our surprise to find that the metal gates were rolled down, completely closed. Panic immediately set in as my mind raced with questions: did we miss a sign that informed us of the garage open hours? Why is there no sign on this metal gate with hours of operation? How will we get home?!
I then ran through all the worst-case scenarios: is our car now trapped in there overnight? How do we get home when the nearest bust stop is five blocks away? I cannot walk that far in heels in the winter wet cold, and an Uber home will cost $50! How will we retrieve the car tomorrow if it is stuck here overnight? Will there be an overnight parking fee?
Finally, after walking around the closed gate trying to figure out what to do, we spotted a sign to the left of the metal gate, next to a door. It is smaller than a sheet of letterhead, so perhaps that’s why we missed it at first. Also, when I become anxious because something unexpectedly stressful happens, such as a car being trapped in a parking garage, it is truly difficult to fully access executive function problem-solving skills.
My first question after reading the green sign was: is it after hours now? It was 10 PM, which I thought was not that late because some of the restaurants and bars nearby were still open. Also, the last time we parked at this garage, we came back closer to 11 PM and the gate was still open. Did they change the definition of “after hours”? We were very confused.
I read the second two sentences on the green sign multiple times, but still had a hard time figuring out what it meant. We then looked at the yellow box and wondered if we needed to push the red button for help. My husband and I compared the phone numbers, one written in sharpie on the yellow box and one on the green sign, and they were the same. Should we call the number or press the red button? Do they go to the same place?
All of the above happened within about five minutes, but it was one of those moments when time seemed to slow down as we tried to figure out how to deal with a suddenly stressful situation on a cold rainy March evening in downtown Seattle.
I pressed the red button. The light that says “CALL RECEIVED WHEN LIT” did not light up. Is it broken, I wondered? Nothing happened. The phone number written in Sharpie was not as clear, so I had my husband read the numbers on the green sign to me as I dialed. After a few rings, a friendly man answered. As we informed him that we were outside the gate, a sudden buzzing sound alerted us that the door to our left was now unlocked so we could enter to retrieve our car. While still on the phone, the man informed us that we needed to exit the garage through a different gate on a lower level, which was when I connected the dots as to what the words on the green sign meant.
After getting into the building, it looked eerily empty except for our lonely car at the main level. Did everyone else know not to park here except us? I looked around to see if there were signs that I missed earlier informing us of the garage gate closing at a certain time. There were none.
We paid for the parking at the pay machine, got into the car, then found our way through the maze of the underground parking garage to the level below toward the elusive after-hours exit.
It all worked out in the end. We were able to get our car and get home only somewhat frazzled, but we really could have done without the added stress of unexpectedly seeing the garage gate closed with little information on what happened and how to proceed. My husband and I felt like we had to access our best Sherlock Holmes skills in order to solve the mystery of how to get our car back. The stress on us, as users, was entirely unnecessary and could have been avoided if the owners of the parking garage had done the following:
1. Alert users, ahead of time and often, to reduce confusion. Multiple signs indicating hours of operation or the time when the main gate will close would have helped tremendously. Our roller coaster of emotions and anxiety would have been avoided if there were clear signs as we entered the parking lot notifying us that gate will close by a certain time in the evening. There should also be a sign on the door where people exit the garage after parking, in case they missed the signs at the entrance.
2. Provide details in small chunks. The green sign is meant to tell the user how to pay and how to get out of the building, but the wording is long and the typography is difficult to read: it is written in all caps, underlined, and with little white space between lines. When the user is worried about how to retrieve their car, they will have a harder time accessing the executive functioning portion of the brain to read and comprehend the long text. Imagine users who are dyslexic or have low vision, and the problem is exacerbated.
3. Make sure the user interface is accessible AND working. The red HELP button, with the addition of braille underneath, is meant to be helpful for those with visual impairments. However, the red light did not come on when we pressed the button, which told us it did not work. A visually impaired person would not have had a way to know that the light did not come on and infer that the button did not work.
4. Increase the visibility of signage. The green sign and the yellow box were quite small, which is why we missed these visual cues at first, when we were concentrating on the metal garage entrance gate that was unexpectedly closed. We only saw the green sign and its instructions after scanning the surroundings more. Had the sign been a bit larger or more prominent, we may not have needed to spend time walking around the metal gate looking for clues.
Without natural landmarks like sunlight or street views, underground parking structures are inherently difficult to navigate without clear signs to help with wayfinding. Relating the above experience to website design, I think that trying to navigate a poorly designed website is like trying to find your way in a large and dark parking garage. We can prevent a great deal of frustration and anxiety in users from the get-go if we consider their user journey in the creation of digital spaces. If we can create much more user-friendly and accessible environments in all settings, then we can make sure all users can find their way back to their home and homepage.
Source:
https://www.bdadyslexia.org.uk/advice/employers/creating-a-dyslexia-friendly-workplace/dyslexia-friendly-style-guide
