Читать книгу Interviewing Users - Steve Portigal - Страница 27

You are bound to hear stories in the field that you strongly identify with, whether it’s someone’s frustration with a broken part of Windows or their passion for Pre-Code Hollywood. Although it’s important to connect with your participant, it’s not the best idea to get there by sharing your common interest. Remember that the interview isn’t about you. If you also love Pre-Code Hollywood, you may think “OMG! Another fellow Pre-Code Hollywood enthusiast!” But you don’t have to say that! Think about when to reveal something about yourself (and when not to). Putting a “me too!” out there changes the dynamic of the interview. It may work to develop some rapport in a difficult situation, or it may imply you are more interested in talking about yourself than listening to the other person. Although this approach might work in social settings, where “see how interesting I am!” is a way we establish our worth in new situations, it can be detrimental in an interview.

You should definitely talk about yourself if doing so gives the other person permission to share something. As an example, early on in my career I was part of an interview team where my role was to hold the video camera and ask only a few supporting questions. As our participant was telling us about her family and their history, she stopped and looked at both of us and said, “Well, you know, my family is Jewish.” She was hesitant to continue. I piped up, explaining “My family is Jewish as well.” She said to me, “Well, then you understand.” She then turned to my colleague and proceeded to explain the specific details she wanted to convey. I don’t always tell my Jewish interviewees, “Hey, I’m Jewish, too! I have a menorah, too!” but in this case a small revelation gave the interviewee permission to move forward with the interview.

Adventures in Rapport Building

As we rang the doorbell, my colleague and I unconsciously straightened, preparing ourselves for that all-important first impression, that moment when our research participant would come to the door and size us up. We waited for a moment, looking at each other as we heard footsteps, mustering a smile as the inside door opened.

“Hello,” I offered, “Are you Brian?”

As I began to state the obvious, that we were here for the interview, he grunted, opened the screen door, and as we took hold, he turned around and walked back into the house. We glanced at each other and stepped into the foyer. What did we know about Brian? Our recruiting screener told us he was 22, lived with his parents and brother, and was employed part-time. The rest would be up to us to discover.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and we were taking our shoes off in a strange house. Eventually, someone beckoned from the kitchen, and we went in. But already we were out of sync. The kitchen was small, with an L-shaped counter and a small table for dining. Brian’s mother was at the end of the L, working with bowls and dishes and burners on the stove. Brian’s father was perched against the counter, while Brian and his younger brother sat at the table. His father was a small man, while the other three were quite large. The room wasn’t big enough for the six of us, so we managed to set up for the interview in the only place we could—at the far end of the counter. We wedged ourselves (one behind the other) on small chairs, pulling our knees in, our paraphernalia of notepads, documents, video cameras, tapes, batteries, and so on clutched in close. It wasn’t ideal, but we hoped we could make it work.

The real challenge quickly became clear: Although Brian had agreed to be interviewed, he was actively disinterested. We had recruited Brian specifically, but here we were with the entire family. We pressed ahead, explaining our study, and starting in with our planned questions. Since Brian was the person with whom we had the arrangement, we focused our attention on him. He responded with one-word answers (which sounded more like grunts) and the occasional glance at his brother, causing them both to giggle.

My colleague and I avoided looking at each other (it may not have been physically possible, given the tight quarters) for fear of displaying our despair. Sure, we had arranged this interview, but the cues we were receiving were making it clear the arrangement wasn’t worth much. At this point, we had already awoken quite early to conduct this interview, so there was no point in giving up. If they changed their mind explicitly, they’d let us know, and we’d leave. Meanwhile, what else was there to do but press on? I asked questions with very little response. I tried the brother, at which point Brian bolted out of the room for a few minutes, without a word. The brother was only slightly more amenable than Brian, mostly interested in making critical comments about his parents (to Brian’s great grunting enjoyment), rather than providing any actual information.

Indeed, it appeared that Brian had not informed his parents that we were coming. Although I directed some of the questioning toward his mom, she reacted with pretty serious hostility, informing us (in the context of an answer to a question) that they did not welcome strangers into their house, and (while she was preparing food) highlighted the intimate nature of food preparation as a symbol, which was even less open to strangers. The message was very clear.

But again, what could we do? Pressing on until we were specifically asked to leave, under the explicit agreement we had made, seemed the best approach. We asked our questions, following up on the information they had shared, listening closely, looking for clarification, offering up as much space as we could for them to talk, all in trying to build some flow and dialogue.

Even though the message was negative, at least the parents were willing to talk to us. And so the young men faded out of the conversation, and the interview eventually switched over to the parents. Two hours later, it turned out that we had completed an excellent interview with them; they each had great stories about our topic area and revealed a lot of background about their family, about growing up, about their activities, and even their perspectives on what made the United States the country it had become. By not giving up, by ignoring our own discomfort, and by being patient in building rapport, a near-failure turned into a triumph.

Indeed, before we left the house, the mother insisted on cooking up some fried bread, fresh and hot for us. She stated that “No one comes here and doesn’t get food,” thus reiterating the intimate nature of food she had mentioned at the beginning, but this time as a compliment rather than a warning.

As soon as we left the house, my colleague turned to me and said, “I don’t know how you pulled that off; I thought we were done for and would have to leave.” I was very pleased with how the interview turned out, especially because it began so poorly, but there was little magic to it. I didn’t try to solve the big problem of the complex dynamic we had walked into; I just focused (especially at first) on the next problem—the immediate challenge of what to say next. I was certainly keeping the larger goals in mind of how to cover all the areas we were interested in, but I was focusing my energy as an interviewer on the next point. And by working at it in small pieces, bit by bit, the dynamic shifted. As interviewers, we had to compartmentalize the social experience of the event—the extreme discomfort and awkwardness of the early part of the interview—and stick to our jobs. We didn’t handle the situation that differently than any other interview, and it served as a testament to our approach—listening, following up (and showing that we were listening by the way we followed up), building rapport and trust bit by bit, until there was a great deal of openness and great information.

Looking back on this experience years later, it’s obvious that there are better ways to communicate with the participants ahead of time to screen out the unwilling. I should have spoken directly to the person we were visiting before the day of the interview, in order to get that person-to-person communication started early. But, given the diversity of people, there’s still a good chance that you’ll end up with someone sometime who isn’t initially comfortable with the interview process, and it’s your job to make them comfortable. Doing so may make you uncomfortable, but with practice, you’ll learn to set aside social dynamics and focus on the question asking and listening that will make the interview a success. See Chapter 8, “Optimizing the Interview,” for more on troubleshooting this type of common interview problem.