No one should be surprised that the initial sales of the Apple Watch are strong. Critical reaction, though, has been mixed. A lot of recent commentaries have focused on the fact that the time is not visible by default. As I wrote on Friday, this may be a feature rather than a bug. "The flicking of the wrist to tell the time," I proposed, "is actually an investment of muscle memory on the part of the user that they will come to associate with telling the time."
Nir Eyal, who wrote one of the critiques that I responded to, clearly enjoyed this idea:
@akosner that's a very interesting perspective! Muscle memory as investment. Love it!
— Nir Eyal (@nireyal) April 24, 2015
So, with that encouragement, let me expand upon this argument. What if a big part of Apple's strategy to make the Watch a habit-forming product has to do with this sort of muscle memory? And what if the "complications"—those chronograph-like doodads that you can use to customize your watchface—are a metaphor for all the new patterns you will have to learn as you use the product?
First let me say that I have worn Pebble smartwatches for the last couple of years, and my direct familiarity with Apple Watch is strictly on the consumer level. I went to my local Apple Store and played around with the demo models like anyone else. The difference, in my case, is that I have used Apple's products since the days of the IIci and have written extensively about several iPhone and iPad cycles as well as its software ecosystem. So let's say I approach the Watch like Emma Peel in the mod 60s British spy-fi series "The Avengers"—as a "talented amateur."
As I predicted before the product's launch, the Apple Watch is not a simple product. I phrased this originally as a problem, but from my current perspective I wonder whether it is not wholly on purpose. Clearly it could have been simpler. As it is, it is not immediately apparent to a new user why you push which of the two buttons and exactly how you traverse all of the options for the device.
Similar consternation arose at the launch of the iPhone, so maybe Apple is on to something. Cupertino has a history of introducing new input methods with new products. The mouse debuted with the Macintosh, the click wheel with the iPod and the multitouch screen with the iPhone. The fact that the iPad did not have its own unique input method may have contributed to the perception (which persists still) that it is just an over-sized iPhone.
The Apple Watch indeed introduces two new input methods, only one of which will remain unique to the device. The "digital crown" is a handy little knob that enables very fine-tuned scrolling, a big help for big fingers on such a small screen. Force touch, the full-screen equivalent of a right-click (or option-click on Macs) has already made its way into the newest Apple laptop, the lust-worthy MacBook Pro.
Without going into all of the geeky details about what you need to do to get what effect on the Apple Watch, I think it is sufficient to say that it requires some learning to use effectively. This complexity, one might think, is the exact opposite of the Apple ethos of intuitive design that "just works." But, in fact, if you look closer at the history of Apple design it becomes clear that all of that intuitive easy-ness has been there to make the new product ideas assimilate faster.
So, to paraphrase Einstein, Apple makes things as easy as possible, but no easier. What, then, are the "important business lesson you need to know" about the Apple Watch? Nir Eyal writes that customers will forgive the lack of basic features (for a while) if it is delightful enough. "People kept using (and often praising) the iPhone because the delight factor made up for its lack of basic attributes," he explains, citing Noriaki Kano's customer satisfaction model. "Mainly, Apple’s App Store and its near infinite variety of nifty solutions provide a constant stream of delightful features even Steve Jobs could never have imagined."
But no matter how delightful this new smartwatch is, or how "nifty" the solutions of app developers, expecting this sort of learning curve from consumers is something that no company other than Apple could hope to pull off. Learning the "complications" of a product may serve to increase the users investment in it, but few would invest in this one at all if Apple had not made it. Don't think that you can follow Apple's example and win.
What is the general takeaway for entrepreneurs, product designers, and tech companies? Frankly, that scale matters. Below a certain threshold, you need to make things easier and simpler to foster wider adoption. Only once your product or platform begins to attain ubiquity within a market can you begin to add friction as a retention strategy. Raising prices or introducing more complex features can increase your customer's perception of the value of your product. But customers must already be heavily invested and emotionally attached to your product for this to work. If you make the climb steeper too soon, the hikers will choose easier routes to their destination.
Apple keeps raising the peak of its own mountain, but this approach only works for those who summit.
