The future of work: A designer’s reading list

Recently, I was asked to put together a list of reading for design students. These students are about to design something for emerging productivity needs. I looked through my academic database, I realized that much of what I’ve read is probably not appropriate for designers.

I mean, show me a designer who wants to read Marx, Weber, and Durkheim, and I’ll show you a budding sociologist!

So I changed tack. Below is the rough, popular reading list I came up with. These articles are no substitute for a robust reading of the research on work and technology, but it does reflect some of the major debates in the field.

It also is ripe for design solutions. There is tension. There are problems to solve. What problems would you solve, if you were designing for the future of work?

Understanding work in the 20th century: from hierarchy to what?

Stewart, Matthew. 2006. “The Management Myth: Most of management theory is inane, writes our correspondent, the founder of a consulting firm. If you want to success in business, don’t get an MBA. Study philosophy instead.” The Atlantic.

Work and technology: overworked and underproductive

Bogost, Ian. 2013. “Hyperemployment, or the exhausting work of the technology user.” The Atlantic.

Madden, Mary, and Sydney Jones. 2008. “Networked Workers”. Pew Internet and American Life: Washington DC.

Work and Home: blurring the boundaries

Meece, Mickey. “Who’s the boss? You or your gadget?” The New York Times.

Duxbury, Linda, and Rob Smart. 2011. “The ‘Myth of Separate Worlds’: An Exploration of How Mobile Technology Has Redefined Work-Life Balance.” In Creating Balance? International Perspectives on the Work-Life Integration of Professionals, edited by Stephan Kaiser, Max Josef Ringlstetter, Doris Ruth Eikhof, and Miguel Pina e Cunha, 269–284. Heidelberg: Springer-Verlag.

The Aging Workforce: time bomb or blessing?

Thompson, Derek. 2012. “Gray Nation: The very real economic dangers of an aging America.” The Atlantic.

The End of The Job: what happens when no one has a job?

Wishnia, Steve. 2012. “Temp Worker Nation: If you do get hired, it might not be for long.” Alternet.

The Economist. 2014. “The Onrushing Wave.”

MBO Partners. 2011. “The State of Independence in America”. Herndon, Virginia.

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A defense of private-sector ethnography

Below is the full text of my recent keynote at the 5th Annual Qualitative Report Conference! It was a 45 minute lecture, and the closing plenary for the conference. It was, in a sense, a preview of my book , which will be printed within six short weeks!

Here’s me presenting, via @techladytn



I then offered the reasons why private-sector ethnography is important.


Ethnographic research in the private sector is a critical step in creating products and services that work, that are meaningful, that answer real needs and makes real differences in people’s lives. The ethnographic method, many of you know, is more than simply a data collection method. It is, fundamentally, an epistemological position. Ethnography is about adopting the participant’s standpoint, to use Canadian sociologist Dorothy Smith’s term. The participant’s standpoint transforms the ethnographer from a mere researcher to a person actively trying to empathize with another’s position in life.

It is about standing in her shoes and trying, deeply, to understand how she experiences the world. You are not studying the institutions so much as you are studying the participant’s experiences of those institutions.

This is why ethnography is important in general, but it is especially important in the private sector. Academic ethnographers have something private-sector researchers do not have: they have professional autonomy that is written into the cultural norms and sometimes even literally into employment contracts with universities. Private-sector researchers do not have this codification, neither do their colleagues who design, manage, and market products. There is nothing informally or formally encoded into private-sector practice that puts the CONSUMER first. But because ethnography has this unique epistemological position, it can shift that reality. It can make researchers, marketers, designers and product managers suddenly understand deeply the needs of consumers.

Ethnography necessarily involves empathy. Nursing scholar Teresa Wiseman defines empathy as having 4 attributes:

  1. To be able to see the world as others see it
  2. To be non-judgmental about what they see
  3. To understand another’s feeling
  4. To communicate your understanding of that person’s feelings

Imagine if every product, made by every company was built primarily on empathy. We would have products that delight us, save us from harm, cheer us, calm us, identify with us. We would have products that value what we value, whether that be our children, our environment, our communities, or our parents. Ethnography gets us closer to that world where products fit with our values, rather than simply separate us from our money.


Ethnography does more than simply embed empathy into the product design process. It also has a very practical application. I use the practical specifically, because it refers to Heideggerian metaphysics. Heidegger argued that we have two ways of being in the world. Being “theoretical” is the use of specific methodologies, of rigid procedures, of closed, reductionist and myopic ways of seeing. He argued that “being theoretical” is to adhere to a theory about the world, instead of being open to what the world can reveal to you. Once you have a rigid process whereby you perceive objects and people, you run the risk of not discovering the world as it is.

By contrast, Heidegger argued we should be “practical.” By this he means being passively open to how objects and people inter-relate. This contrasts with the specialist’s way of being, which is determining beforehand how one should perceive things and people, not to mention measure or qualify them. Being practical is recognizing that things and people are assigned to other things, and are involved with other people.

This forms the basis of Heidegger’s philosophy of objects. When an object is “ready to hand,” we are using that object in its intended way. Its purpose in the world is revealed to us. Its meaning is not constructed by us or foisted upon it. The hammer only makes sense to us, Heidegger would argue, when we use it. The hammer is not just an object, created in isolation from the people who use it, and the wood that it hammers. The hammer gets it meaning from its context.

A hammer without people or wood means nothing. It is set adrift in a sea of meaninglessness. We cannot understand such an unhinged, decontextualized object. It might as well not exist.

Certainly we know of many products that are drifting in a sea of meaninglessness. Take, for example, pretty much any product from the incredible, existentially troubling magazine Skymall.


Skymall’s products are so titillating because they are so disconnected from the practical world. They trouble the very nature of our existence because they are so fantastically contrived. Skymall is an existential torture chamber because it brings us objects that have no connection to what we actually do in the world.

Not all products are on par with those in Skymall. No, most of them are just a bit out of touch with our everyday lives. They don’t fit into our houses. They have type that’s too small. They don’t connect to our other devices. They crash our systems.

Ethnography helps us escape from this existential torture chamber of meaningless products, because by its very nature, it appreciates the practical world. Practical ethnography brings to life the objects and people already in existence. It shows product designers where their product will live, and what it must do to fit there.

Practical ethnography is being both empathetic and embedded in the everyday world.


Jon Van Maanen is a veteran ethnographer. Many of you probably know of his work, particularly if you study organizations. In his book, Tales from the Field, Van Maanen noted in 1988 that ethnography was undergoing a shift. “Shifts within ethnography occur when, for example, new faces enter the filed, novel problems are put forth, funding patterns change or…new narrative styles develop.” At the time, Van Maanen was talking about the narrative style we’ve now seen in contemporary ethnographies like Gang Leader for a Day, the controversial ethnography of an academic entering the world of crime.

I would argue that we are at another juncture. Today we are seeing new kinds of problems relating to realities of a market virtually saturated with meaningless, useless, and even harmful products and services. It for this reason that ethnography has entered the private sector, to produce practical insights to help product designers, marketers, and even policymakers to produce better products.

Here I want to tell you a bit about what I and my colleagues do at Microsoft. This picture is me doing the pre-launch check, as it were, before entering an office. This study was an ethnography of startups. We recruited 19 companies, interviewed 32 participants, conducted 62 hours of observation and took 598 photographs. We visited four separate cities, and did iterative analysis after each visit. The project’s aims were to understand the norms, practices, and beliefs of startups, and to map their technological ecosystems.

The project lasted, from start to finish, just under 3 months. That included research design, fieldwork, analysis, and sharing of the report.

The goal of this project was to inform various teams within Microsoft Office about emergent productivity practices among startups. What we found was that startups were very strategic in their technology choices, and specifically, would choose technologies with open APIs, so that they might plug new tools existing their existing set of tools.

This has specific relevant results for Microsoft Office. My findings will be considered by designers when they are making design decisions about inter-operability. This is a real impact, from a real study.


Ethnography is practiced routinely in several fields in the private sector. Marketers and market researchers are conducted ethnographic investigations to communicate more meaningfully. Ethnographers are also part of a burgeoning “third sector” of social innovation, which is the goal of innovating products and services not just for profit but also for social good. And most especially, ethnographers are working in design. This is where I work. Design ethnographers work particularly in technology, which I’ll talk about, but also in industrial design.


But the major focus of applied ethnography today, and the brand of it that I practice, is design ethnography. Designers are often intuitive ethnographers, noticing systems that are broken, or dysfunctional. This is where great design usually comes from: the kernel of discomfort a designer feels when trying to use an existing product.

But notice I say what the designer feels. Designers are no different than most human beings – they have difficulty with seeing things from other people’s perspective. Their natural inclination is to be intuitive, but not necessarily empathic. Ethnographers can and do help designers have a more systematic and practiced method of reflection and standpoint. In my own work, for example, I champion the extreme user. I work directly with designers who are building prototype technologies, but who are continually challenged to avoid designing things they just think are cool. Instead, I take them into the field with me to see how lead users are currently hacking and modding products to suit their own purposes.

Many of these extreme users are not the norm, and will never be. It’s a hard sell to suggest that the average person will hack all of her products that she buys. Hell, she doesn’t have time to do that.

But my role is to give designers a sandbox to play in. I define the design territory for them. I uncover the objects and people that already exist out there, in the world, and I show them what kinds of new products will fit there, and which ones will not.


Now I know what you’re thinking. How is this ethical? How can an interpretivist sociologist defend corporate product design? That is an excellent question. And I have an excellent answer.

First, it’s a myth to think that academic ethnography is somehow more pure than practical ethnography. Academic ethnographers have something to gain from doing their studies, namely, journal articles, books, and ultimately tenure. If that’s not personal gain, I don’t know what is.

Secondly, the market deserves to be treated as the cultural phenomenon it is. Market activity is one of the purest forms of human expression, and simply because we think it is prone to the corrupting influences of capitalism does not mean that it should be disregarded wholesale. No, market activity deserves the same lens that everything else receives, and its actors deserve to be treated not as victims of false consciousness but as authentically motivated actors, enacting the cultural activities of their time, namely, market activities.

That said, however, there are limits to how market-based ethnography should be practiced. We must actively reject the notion of deceit. All too often in market research, stakeholders believe that to reveal the company name is to “bias” the result. Given this audience, I don’t think I need to tell you that being “unbiased” is truly impossible. It is the positivist preeminence in the private sector that creates such a view. Deceit is not required for good research, and worse, it can be corrosive. If ethnographers serve only to sell more products, they are not “being practical,” but being theoretical. Their theory is about making money, not about being open to the authentic meaning and experiences of average consumers. Deceit is self-defeating, so deceit cannot be defended in the private-sector ethnography.

As I discuss in my book, we should aspire to do more than “do no harm.” We should actively try to do good. Doing good like stopping sexism in advertising. Doing good like making technology that actually serves people’s needs Doing good by designing products that are sustainable.

In a sense, you could argue that it UNETHICAL to NOT do practical ethnography. Without practical ethnography, products and services have no context, no empathy baked in, and no way of fitting into real people’s lives.

So can ethnography be ethical if its goal is to pursue profit? Yes, provided that its primary goal is to elicit empathy with people and understand the world in which the product will live. If ethnography is perfunctory and merely pays lip service to these ideals, it is not ethical. But if it does elicit empathy, and paint a holistic picture of people’s worlds, and just so happens to achieve a profit? Well that’s gravy.

How private-sector ethnography differs


There are differences in how ethnography is practiced in the private sector. Two main differences come to mind. First, the timelines in the private sector are rapid. And second, it is practiced in a context where positivism reigns supreme.

Timelines are short. Typical projects last about 6 weeks. This means there is very little room for the creative expressions of data analysis that we’ve seen here, because every moment must be accounted for and managed. Project management is the quintessential profession of today, with its emphasis on scheduling and budgeting.

But also, the private sector also has a particular “truth regime.” I use the word truth regime, it’s a Foucaultian term describing the ways in which truth claims are made. The private sector – and most universities – have scientific truth regimes. Truth is spoken by experts with the right training. It is communicated in positivist terms, and in charts, graphs, and numbers. This is probably familiar to everyone here, but in the private sector you can’t just hang out with the cool kids like we are doing today – sometimes you have to deal with the nerds and the jocks. Positivism’s cultural dominance makes the outputs of private-sector ethnography more constrained.

So culturally, the use of creative collection and analysis processes are prohibited. But even in the academic sector, it’s practically prohibited, due to our increasingly “taut” time schedules, which are architected, constrained and controlled.

Does private-sector ethnography suck?


There are real problems in private-sector ethnography. It is often practiced by those untrained ethnographers, like designers and market researchers with no background in theory much less method. This means the norms set in the private sector, well the bar is very low.

Another big shortcoming of private-sector ethnography is that it rarely results in a full text, such as book or even a monograph. This creates a real challenge from archiving and knowledge building. The praxis of ethnography can be pushed and pulled and stretched in the private sector, but it will not be the source of new theoretical grounds.

Future directions


Future directions include using it in strategic decision-making, and even corporate social responsibility. But I need you to help here.

Reach out to practical ethnographers. Consider attending EPIC (Danny Miller did this past year and it was great). Encourage your students to go to the private sector. Send them to the AnthroDesign list. Get them working with designers, and start them with the idea that if you are forthcoming, honest, and seek to do good, working in the market context is not inherently bad or evil.

See more information on my book:

Practical Ethnography: A Guide to Doing Ethnographic Research in The Private Sector

Why does technology present so many privacy problems?

Consider the following facts:

What is it with technology that makes these kinds of privacy breaches so common?

The importance of physical objects in privacy

We recruit physical objects to prop up our privacy. Doors, walls and curtains help us control access to information by obscuring the view into private space. Sometimes, objects are used to indicate a purely symbolic boundary, as in the case of a window. In public or shared spaces, we recruit physical objects to demarcate space we claim as private. Yoga class participants carry out this process by placing their mat on a carefully chosen spot. New arrivals to the class know that space is now “taken” by another student.

An office with walls and a door is less accessible than a mere desk – even when the office door is open. Fictional news reporter Les Nessman illustrated this by painting yellow lines on the carpet around his desk. Visitors to his “office” were asked to pantomime knocking on the “door.”

Figure 1: Les Nessman answering his “door”


The physical context of information tells us how private that information is intended to be. A piece of paper sitting in plain view suggests it is not private information. But that place that same piece of paper in a folder, and shut it in a drawer and the information is clearly intended to be private. The physical context itself connotes the nature of the information.

In the digital world, we no longer have these physical objects to help us. The digital context lacks the same fidelity of the physical world. Without physical objects to indicate the nature of privacy, digital objects typically are given metadata to indicate their private nature.

Metadata’s primary shortcoming is that it doesn’t relate the object to other objects, thereby robbing the user of a rich source of information. Imagine a photo placed in a frame and set on a piano. Imagine the same photo stuck on a corkboard, next to a mug shot. Imagine it again placed in a shoebox and tucked under a bed. Then imagine this photo posted on Facebook. The human mind quickly intuits the meaning of the object by means of comparing it to other, nearby objects. In the digital realm, objects are stripped of this context. Hashtags or metadata lack the richness of the physical context, and makes it that much more difficult to intuit the private nature of the object.

Ethnography and the importance of attachments and involvements

Elsewhere I have argued that ethnography is one of the best ways to understand how products relate to people and to the world. I argued that Heidegger’s concepts of “attachments” and “involvements” are what ethnographers should be looking for in the field. How does this product fit with other products? How does it fit with with people? You must understand a potential user’s system if you’re developing a product, and ethnography gives you a high-fidelity view into the user’s world.

This is one of the reasons we have so many privacy breaches; digital products were developed without understanding the user’s attachments and involvements, especially those relating to privacy. Sadly, entire business models have been built on users not realizing this fact, and over-sharing their information in a digital space. In the physical world, they might unconsciously recruit physical objects to communicate a high-fidelity privacy desire. We need more systems to integrate this desire, but with authentically digital options.




[1]       A. Westin, Privacy And Freedom, vol. 25, no. 1. New York: Athenum, 1967.

[2]       A. Cerra and C. James, Identity Shift: Where Identity Meets Technology in A Networked Age. Indianapolis: John Wiley & Sons, 2012.

[3]       M. Madejski, M. Johnson, and S. M. Bellovin, “The Failure of Online Social Network Privacy Settings,” New York, 2011.

[4]       B. Meeder, J. Tam, P. G. Kelley, and L. F. Cranor, “RT @ IWantPrivacy : Widespread Violation of Privacy Settings in the Twitter Social Network,” in Proceedings of the Web, Vol. 2, 2009.

[5]       T. a. Pempek, Y. a. Yermolayeva, and S. L. Calvert, “College students’ social networking experiences on Facebook,” J. Appl. Dev. Psychol., vol. 30, no. 3, pp. 227–238, May 2009.

[6]       E. Protalinksi, “13 Million US Facebook Users Don’t Change Privacy Settings,” ZDNet News2, 2012. [Online]. Available: [Accessed: 06-Dec-2013].

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The Problem with Product Demos: An Analysis of Technology Demonstrations

There is a curious cultural practice in the high-technology industry: the product demo. The product demo is a must-have ritual for any organization who has developed and will hopefully sell a technology product. But the demo is a fiction that harms the product’s design, and worse, limits the company’s innovative potential.

Science Becomes Technology: From Knowledge to Control

The product demo is not a new phenomenon. Its roots can be traced back to our first interactions with technology in the 19th Century. Michael Faraday famously demonstrated the power of electricity at the Royal Institution in London, beginning in 1825, culminating in this famous lecture, “The Distinctive Properties of The Common Metals” in 1855. This particular lecture got some much needed star power with the attendance of the British Royal Family.

Faraday lecturing at the Royal Institution

Faraday’s lectures and others like them were designed to awe the audience. In the 19th Century, science and scientists were beginning to chip away at the religious world, and people like Faraday were there to pull back the curtain on God’s mysteries. The product demo has its roots in this concept of awe and triumph over the unknowable.

Demos Become A Show

By the end of the 19th Century, the inventor replaced the mere scientist as the hero of the times. Scientific discoveries alone were not celebrated, but the application of scientific knowledge. In other words, knowing about the natural world was no longer enough; controlling the natural world became far more important. The product demo became a demonstration not just of knowledge but of mastery.

Drunk History nails the absurdity of these demos with their hilarious recounting of Edison and Tesla’s feud over electricity (a must-watch if you haven’t seen it).


  By this point, product demos changed. They were no longer lectures, but shows. The inventor was now expected to put on a show, complete with drama, climax and a “reveal.” The expectation of the demo is that there will be some moment (or perhaps many moments) that will surprise the audience. There will be a surprise and entertainment.

The Downsides of Demos

Once a demo becomes a show, it has all the downsides of a show. There is a front stage and a back stage. The front stage is a construction that could fall apart in any moment. We learned recently just how constructed Steve Jobs’ initial iPhone product demo was. Among other problems, the cell signal bars had to be hard-coded because the signal was not reliable enough. The product demo is a show about the technology; it is not about the technology’s actual use at all.

And this is the real problem with product demos: technology teams know full well they must put on a show. Instead of designing a much-needed solution, technology companies design “wow moments.” The Segway famously showed us that what tech nerds think is cool is painfully awkward for the rest of us to watch. Technology that may look good in product demos often has no place in everyday life.

Demos Are Not Real Life

For technology to really help us live better lives, it must fit into our everyday routines. It must alleviate burdensome experiences. It must improve our abilities in pleasant, non-distracting ways. The “calm technology” disappears when we don’t need it, and re-appears when we summon it. This is the direct opposite of demo technology, which is inherently dramatic, attention-getting, and the “star” of the show.

Collectively, we tend to focus — wrongly — on “breakthrough” technologies, such as the proverbial flying car. What we need now in this stage of our technological development is filling the gaps in our fragmented technological ecosystem. We do not need a flying car; we need better existing cars. We do not need a Holodeck; we need less email.

We don’t need this.

The next time you witness a product demo, imagine it is for a fix to your biggest technology frustration. Imagine it is a tool or practice to reduce email volume.  Would this be an amazing show? No. Would there be a dramatic unveiling? No. But this innovation would solve many of our daily frustrations and greatly improve our overall quality of life.  Unfortunately, the product demo is a practice that privileges breakthrough technologies. It is an expectation for startups to attract capital and user interest. It’s almost impossible to create an incremental innovative technology in this format.

 A World Without Product Demos

Imagine technology companies never did product demos. Startups would no longer be expected to create “shows” to attract funding. There would be no reason to have a “wow feature” that would make the audience gasp. The technology’s value would not be revealed in a moment, but come to be known through use over time. Imagine when after several weeks or months, the user base would grow and the value of the technology would be appreciated gradually. The Hype Cycle might disappear forever.

But most importantly, we may open the way for technology designers to finally solve real, everyday problems, instead of focusing on making a big splash. Breakthrough technologies would still capture the popular imagination, but the technology industry would have more room for the mundane, somewhat boring technology that might very much improve our lives.