The window closed. I wanted to say the login failed twice. The login failed because the text box was too small. I clicked the box. The keyboard did not appear. I tried a second time. The keyboard appeared. I logged in.

Then the survey appeared. The survey asked if I was satisfied. The survey offered five stars. I looked at the stars. No star meant the text box was too small. No star meant the keyboard was slow.

I clicked four stars. I closed the window. My message was not sent. The survey was done. I sat in my chair. I thought about the four stars.

The four stars were a lie. I was not four stars happy. I was not one star angry. I had a specific problem. The problem was the size of the box. The problem was the delay of the keyboard. A number cannot describe a box. A number cannot describe a delay.

The company will look at the number. The company will see a four. The company will think the user is happy. The company is wrong.

Measuring the Duration, Missing the Soul

I tried to meditate after that. I sat on the floor. I crossed my legs. I closed my eyes. I wanted to find a quiet mind. I focused on my breath. My breath was shallow. I thought about the time.

I wanted to know how much time had passed. I opened one eye. I looked at the watch on my wrist. Three minutes had passed. I wanted ten minutes to pass.

The watch told me a number. The watch did not tell me if I was calm. The watch only told me the time. The survey is like the watch. It measures the duration. It does not measure the soul.

The Green Mirage of Dashboards

A company builds a dashboard. The dashboard has many graphs. One graph shows the satisfaction score. The score is an average. The average is 4.2. The manager looks at the 4.2. The manager smiles.

The 4.2 is a green number. Green means good. But the 4.2 contains the people who could not find the exit. The 4.2 contains the people who hate the color of the site.

The 4.2 contains the people who clicked a star just to make the window go away. The 4.2 hides the truth. The truth is messy. The truth has words. The graph only has lines.

Measurement instruments do not just record reality. Measurement instruments decide which parts of reality count. If a survey does not ask about the box size, the box size does not exist.

If a survey does not ask about the keyboard delay, the keyboard delay is not a fact. The company only knows what it asks. The company is a prisoner of its own questions.

The user is a ghost in the machine. The ghost has a voice, but the machine only has buttons. I think about the people who design the buttons. They sit in rooms. They use computers.

They want to make the users happy. They want to show their bosses a high score. They create a survey with five stars. They do not create a text field.

A text field is hard to read. A text field takes time to analyze. A star is easy. A star is a digit. You can add digits. You can divide digits. You can put digits into a spreadsheet.

You cannot put a human heart into a spreadsheet. You cannot put a small login box into a spreadsheet. Digital platforms try to be fast. They try to be secure. They try to be fun.

On a platform like

rca777,

the user wants to play. The user wants to deposit money. The user wants to withdraw money. The user wants the games to load.

The platform uses automation. The automation is fast. The automation is a number. The speed of a deposit is a number. You can measure the seconds. You can measure the milliseconds.

If the deposit takes 12 seconds, the number is 12. If the user feels anxious during those 12 seconds, the anxiety is not a number. The anxiety is the reality.

The Silent Withdrawal

The company looks at the 12 seconds. The company says the 12 seconds are good. The company sends a survey. The survey asks: “Was your deposit fast?” The user clicks “Yes.”

The user does not say: “I was afraid my money was gone.” The fear is silent. The “Yes” is loud. The company hears the “Yes” and keeps the system the same.

The fear grows. The “Yes” stays the same. One day the user leaves. The company is surprised. The numbers were so high. The stars were so bright. The company did not see the person behind the stars.

Experience is a Landscape

The survey assumes that experience is a scale. It assumes that joy is a five and pain is a one. But experience is not a scale. Experience is a landscape.

A landscape has hills. A landscape has holes. A landscape has weather. You cannot describe a thunderstorm with a three. You cannot describe a sunrise with a five.

When we turn feelings into numbers, we lose the feelings. We only keep the numbers. We build a world of numbers. We live in a world of numbers. But we are not numbers.

The Metal Box and the Key

I once worked in a warehouse. The warehouse had a system for feedback. There was a box on the wall. The box was metal. The box had a slot. You could write a note. You could put the note in the slot.

The manager had the key. The manager opened the box once a week. The manager read the notes. One note said the floor was slippery. One note said the lights were dim.

The manager fixed the floor. The manager fixed the lights. This was not a survey. This was a conversation. The box did not have stars. The box had paper.

Now the box is gone. The metal box is replaced by a screen. The screen is on a phone. The screen pops up. It blocks the view. It demands a rating. It does not want a note. It wants a click.

The click is a data point. The data point goes to a server. The server is in a different city. The server calculates the mean. The server sends a report.

The report says the satisfaction is high. The floor is still slippery. The lights are still dim. But the report is green.

We value what we can measure. We ignore what we cannot measure. We can measure the click. We cannot measure the hesitation. We can measure the purchase. We cannot measure the regret.

We can measure the stars. We cannot measure the reason. This is a flaw in the system. The system is built for the measurer, not the measured.

The measurer wants clarity. The measured wants to be heard. Clarity and hearing are not the same thing. I go back to the app. I look at the interface. The interface is clean. The interface is professional.

I see the buttons. I see the games. I see the balance of my account. The balance is a number. I trust the number. I trust the system because it is transparent. But I do not trust the survey.

The survey is a wall. It is a wall between me and the people who made the app. I want to tell them about the box. I want to tell them about the keyboard. I want to help them make it better. They do not want my help. They want my score.

Max G. says that data is a mirror. He says if the mirror is dirty, the reflection is wrong. A survey with five stars is a dirty mirror. It reflects a shape, but it does not reflect the details.

It shows a person, but it does not show the face. The company looks in the mirror every day. The company thinks it looks great. The company does not see the dirt.

The dirt is the feedback that had no place to go. The dirt is the frustration that had no star. I close the app. I put the phone on the table.

We need to get back to the things that exist. We need to get back to the words. We need to stop clicking the stars and start telling the truth. But the truth needs a place to go. And the survey is not that place.

I think about the next time a window pops up. I think about the next time I am asked for a rating. I will look at the stars. I will think about the box. I will think about the keyboard.

I will think about the slippery floor in the warehouse. I will click the star because I have no choice. I will click the star to make the window go away.

I will give them a four. I will give them a five. I will give them whatever number makes the machine stop asking. And then I will go back to my life.

My life is not a number. My life is the thing that happens when the screen is dark.

My life is the breath that I forgot to count when I was looking at the watch. My life is the truth that the survey will never know.