So I’m carrying a stack of hard drives into the office one morning, and I stoop down to pick up the brown, plastic door stop just inside the entrance. As I prepare to wedge it under the glass door, I notice that it actually has the two words “DOOR STOP” molded into it. The two words appear in a 36-point sans serif—an Arial or Helvetica sort of typeface.
Was this the ultimate statement of the obvious? I mean there’s probably very little risk of anyone mistaking this small plastic wedge for, say, an electron microscope or a meat thermometer.
What makes this all so intriguing to me is that someone at the ACME Door Stop Factory made the executive decision to label a product that seems to require no labeling. See, these things simply don’t happen by accident. Somebody had to specify the typeface and determine its size and placement (which, by the way is vertically and horizontally centered).
So was there a creative brief written to select the typeface? Did the designer in a product development brainstorming session say something like:
“Today’s door stop user has a post-modern sense of efficiency which is best expressed in a standard weight, sans serif typeface. The product must suggest both a minimalist aesthetic, yet convey substance and confidence in its own un-self-conscious utility.”
Maybe the design group at The ACME Door Stop Factory developed multiple comps that were posted in the boardroom for a discerning group of C-level execs who showed their various approvals or disapprovals with meaning-infused Hmmms, followed by the ever probable question, “Is that all you have? Any other mock-ups to show us?”
However this whole door stop typeface selection thing went down, someone eventually had to make a series of decisions that led to my curious encounter with a little wedge of plastic. And that points to a deep philosophical—some might say theological—thought process.
A great thinker once said “Where there is design, there is a designer.” The original context of this statement is a pretty good argument for the existence of God, as one takes time to comprehend all the intricacies and complexities of nature. Put another way, if our little brown doorstop had a designer, then more than likely, so did the planet Jupiter, tropical orchids, DNA and my dog Mollie.
The point here is that nothing happens by accident. Sure, in most human endeavors, we see evidence of neglect or incompetence, but there is still an underlying first cause to everything, even bad decisions and bad design. In fact, the sign of a dysfunctional organization is its frequent recourse to actions and behaviors that no one understands, but that somebody, way back when thought was a good idea. That’s also the recipe for dysfunctional branding and design. Or dysfunctional PR in the case of British Petroleum.
As professional communicators assisting clients in building their brands, it is our job to probe the depths of why things have been done the way they have been, and whether there are better ways to do things. The creative process is the result of this inquiry into first causes infused with great intentionality and fresh ideas.
And in case you’re wondering, no, we haven’t designed any door stops recently. But if we ever do, it will feature the best darn door stop typography in the English-speaking world.