Beyond the Crystal Ball

Can we talk about the "Keeper of the Vision" for a minute? It’s a mantle many teams instinctively look to place on designers. And I see so many good designers cling to this idea as if it’s our most sacred duty, the core of our value. We peer into the crystal ball and craft the perfect picture to guide the team. But I can't help wondering: is it a true guide or a beautiful trap?

Imagine we craft a vision for a machine that delivers a "perfect, personalized ice cream sundae" with all its imagined toppings and delights. The rest of the product team critiques, we refine it together, and the vision becomes our shared dream. Armed with this seductive picture of dessert perfection, we approach customers and leadership. "Folks, behold the future we're going to build: the perfect ice cream sundae experience! Are you in?" It's ice cream, so of course they scream "YES!" And why wouldn't they? An enthusiastic "yes" to a perfect, problem-free delight? And that right there is the classic 'everyone loves free ice cream' trap. People love the fantastic far-off dream, not the messy, uncertain journey we know it will take to get there.

Inspired, our team huddles. We work backward from this magnificent dessert perfection. "What's the first step to build the perfect sundae machine?" After much deliberation and assessment of current "dairy enhancement technology," we conclude that the best first step is...a machine that delivers a small glass of plain, cold milk.

So, we go back to our enthusiastic users. "Remember that incredible sundae? Well, our first step is a machine that delivers a nice glass of cold milk. What do you think?" Suddenly, the "YES!" turns into a field of "Hmmms." They might say, "Well, milk is... nice. I already have that, though. When do we get to the sundae?"

And there's the rub. We translate those fuzzy crystal ball outlines into a polished vision everyone cheers for. But that first practical step? It often feels like a bait-and-switch, so disconnected from the dream that our shiny vision seems out of sync with reality from the get-go.

I’m not alone in sensing these dangers. Sam Altman, who knows a thing or two about building impactful things, echoes this skepticism. He points out that grand, work-backwards strategies rarely lead to massive success, and suggests teams instead "take steps one or two at a time." His point is crucial. If we're too focused on getting to our sundae, we might miss a better way to offer real value right now.

What if we also look through the clear base of our crystal ball to see our immediate surroundings? Suppose our team identifies something buildable now that delivers genuine, standalone user value. This presents a dilemma: do we deliver the cold glass of milk, because it’s on the path to our specific sundae vision, or do we build something that offers more user value even if it’s not an obvious part of the original blueprint?

Vision die-hards might scream, "Stay true to the sundae!" But if we really listen to users, something we designers are always preaching, they’ll almost invariably pick immediate value. They know the future is uncertain. That "perfect ice cream sundae," with its complex "dairy enhancement technology," might never fully arrive. We should know that too.

Our vision, that glimpse from the crystal ball, shouldn't be a prescriptive "perfect sundae" blueprint. It should be more like a North Star: a general direction, a guiding principle like "bringing delightful dessert experiences to everyone." Our choices for delivering value should generally align with that broader, thematic vision and current user needs, not just one idealized picture. Nobody wants to end up with cold milk and a fading promise of ice cream.

What if, holding that "delightful dessert experiences" North Star, we look at current capabilities and user needs? Instead of a baby step to the full sundae, we spot an opportunity: how about making dessert more fun and customizable right now? What if we decide to build a "smart topping dispenser." It's not the full sundae machine, but it aligns with our broader vision, and it delivers value now. It might even elevate their sad, plain yogurt into something happy and Instagrammable.

We launch the topping dispenser, and users love it: the variety, the ease. We get incredible feedback. Suddenly, that complex "dairy enhancement technology" for the original sundae machine seems a much riskier bet than this proven dispenser. This shift, learning from what users actually love, is key. It’s a bit like how the team behind Burbn, initially a complex location-based check-in app, noticed users flocked to its photo-sharing. They didn't cling to their original "sundae"; they followed the immediate value and became Instagram.

As the specific "perfect sundae machine" vision begins to fade, a new, more tangible path to user delight emerges. This doesn't mean we abandon a long-term view. Our North Star, that broader thematic vision embodying our 'why', still guides us. It's a core principle that helps our team check if each new step, like the topping dispenser, is advancing us toward that happier, sweeter world, even when the journey looks different than first imagined. Adaptability is crucial because of how crystal balls work: the further into the future we try to push it, the cloudier the image gets.

This approach demands continuous learning and courageous conversations: "Remember that dream we all had of the perfect sundae? Based on what we’ve learned from the topping dispenser, we think we can deliver more value focusing here. The original sundae idea needs to evolve, or perhaps be set aside." That's not failure; it's smart adaptation.

The allure of a perfectly predictable future from a mystical orb is strong. But those distant visions are fraught with vagaries. So, let's stop trying to conjure fully formed, minutely detailed product visions from those indistinct shimmers. Instead, let's use those faint hints to set our sights as a team on a North Star. Let's turn our sharpest focus to the clear realities and tangible opportunities immediately before us: the view through the crystal ball's perfectly transparent base. Here, in the unambiguous present, our team can identify the most valuable thing to build now.

The purpose of delivering our first piece isn't to prove an initial prophecy right. It's for the team to learn what customers actually want and value. Then, armed with real-world insights, our team builds, iterates, and fearlessly adapts its plans, product, and yes, even its collective understanding of that initial directional hint.

The real magic isn't in predicting the future; it's in skillfully crafting the present, one valuable piece at a time.