Skip to main content

The legend of the unforeseen benefit.

We've all heard of them. 

Disasters caused by too many cut corners, too many costs saved. Maybe something as small as a backyard deck toppling over (because the builders used drywall screws instead of structural nails) or something as large as the entire roof of an apartment building flying off into the street (because they skimped on the cheap metal wind ties in the attic). By this point, we all know that there's a limit to how much corner-cutting you can get away with before you start running into unforeseen problems. 

But what if you do things better than you absolutely have to? What happens if you go beyond the bare minimum to get past the inspector and spend a little extra to do things the right way? 

I present to you: the unforeseen benefit. 

I will personally bottom-dollar guarantee you that this fence was not built as a flood retaining, aquarium wall fence, but just look at it go. This fence was built to a higher standard than it had any need to be. I'm sure that it cost a little extra compared to slapping some pickets on there willy-nilly but, unknown to them at the time, these homeowners built a fence that saved their property from untold water damage. And that's sort of an extreme example of my point, but it sure is a fun one. 

A better example is the concept of universal design in the accessibility world. It boils down to that if we go the extra mile to design everything to be accessible to those with disabilities, it will also benefit people who are not disabled. Consider the humble ramp-- it's critical for wheelchair users, but it's also useful to people pushing babies in strollers or people who are moving furniture using dollies. The builders might not have had Sunday walks or moving dressers in mind when they built the ramp, but they benefit from it all the same. 

Long story short, I challenge you to think about what is possible rather than what is necessary. Next time you find yourself designing or building something, don't focus on what you can get away with-- focus on how it could be better. Long down the road, in that faraway place we call the future, you may be happy that you did.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In defense of luxury.

 Allow me to introduce you to my first car: a Mercedes S-Class If only.  My actual first car was a clapped-out Chevy Lumina (though she was good to me). But what my car did have were airbags and ABS brakes-- two features that were once considered to be luxury features  exclusive to cars like the S-Class, yet somehow found their way onto a car that I bought from my cousin for $800. If it seems like I'm getting somewhere, it's because I'm trying to. Research is expensive. There's not really any way around that unfortunate fact, nor around the equally unfortunate fact that someone has to pay for it. I don't know about you, but I definitely can't afford to. Here's where luxury comes in. If rich people want to pay prices that would make you or I limp at the knees in order to have the latest-and-greatest gadgets and doodads then, hey, they have my best wishes. The money that luxury consumers pay for the honor of being the first to use these newer and better techn

In criticism of criticism.

How many of your ideas are actually yours?           And, to that point, how many of them do you even agree with? In the age we currently live, countless writers, critics, and general snobs make their living by giving an opinion on things that most of us have never experienced. If I read a (beautifully written, I might add) movie review by Roger Ebert, I still haven't seen the film. I may have some idea of what it was like to have seen it, but only from the perspective of Mr. Ebert himself. If I then decide to watch the movie, who could say how much different my experience will be for having these ideas preloaded into my head--ideas about whether it is a two or three star worthy film, if I had ought to believe in the characters as written and portrayed, or pointing out the holes in the plot that might otherwise have passed clear over my head. Will I enjoy the film any more or less for having this external knowledge of it? Is it possible that I'll never watch what would have bee

The design of anti-design.

 This article brought to you by (brand name).  Or maybe by No Name™. That's what you're seeing there in the yellow: a brand whose whole identity is based on having no brand name. You won't find any Eggo, they only make "original waffles". No Charmin either, just "bathroom tissue".  Make no mistake, this campaign of anti-design isn't concerned with actually destroying brand image (they'll happily sell you all the bright yellow merchandise you can carry), they're more so trying to convince you that not having a design somehow puts them on the moral high ground. That, by spending a single cent on marketing or packaging design, all the other companies have duped you and you'd really be a fool not to buy all this plain yellow goodness.  It is, of course, just another way to market a brand.  To stray from consumer goods and into other areas of anti-design, this is a problem that I've often had with some works of minimalist architecture. I&#