I can't imagine doing my job without the help of a GPS. It's enough of a challenge sharing the road with other users, let alone trying to navigate through unknown areas (especially major cities) with a street directory open on my lap.
When the nature of my job became apparent (i.e. that it involved tonnes of driving), we decided to splash out and buy a GPS. I had a friend who is a sat nav freak (G'day Andrew!) and so I sought his help on which brand and model to buy etc.
His recommendation was the Garmin Nüvi 660. And it's proven to be an excellent choice. I love the clear, wide screen, and the host of extra features on this unit. My favourites are the really useful dukebox for mp3 files, the FM transmitter (so all audio goes through the stereo), and the Bluetooth connectivity - I use this paired with my work phone to make a lot of calls on the road.
I do also use it for the maps.
While I cannot imagine doing this job without a GPS, and while it gets me to where I need to be every time, there's just one thing it can never replace: local knowledge.
The GPS is a [fairly happy] marriage of mapping technology, satellite connectivity, and mapping algorithms. It is a device that operates off data to calculate an outcome. And it does a pretty fair job most times (except for when it takes you into the scrub or the wrong way up a one-way street).
What I have discovered several times, however, is what the rest of you already know: that a GPS is still no match for a human brain with knowledge of the local area.
Although the GPS might insist that it is getting you from A to B using the fastest route, there's a very strong chance that a local cabbie / school mum knows a faster way.
You see, the one thing a GPS cannot do is read context. So when I'm in an area I know, I usually switch off or ignore the GPS. Occasionally, I leave it on to see how it differs in its assessment to mine. And 90% of the time, my alternative route ends up being faster.
You just can't beat local knowledge.
Of course, this way of operating is not unique to computers. It's the danger that knocks at the door whenever we try to find our way through a situation by calculating all the variables and applying a formula; often it may get a result - but will it be as good as the result we get when we harness the uniqueness of what is there in a particular context?
If you do a lot of driving (and especially if you're a stress-bunny like me in heavy traffic), save up and buy a GPS. Just don't get fooled into thinking that because it's working off 11 satellites (and your brain is working off, ummm, none) that it's always going to be right. When it comes to knowing context, a basic model human brain without any frills will still lick a sat nav.
Whatever Flight of the Conchords might say, robots are not about to take over the world just yet; your brain still has a future in road navigation.
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I have two anecdotes that illustrate the nature of local knowledge. Both are set in Apia, the capital of Western Samoa.
Some years ago I was visiting Apia as a consultant with a UN agency. I happened to dine in a restaurant, with a government official, when a mother pig with twelve piglets wandered down the street.
Having been raised on a mixed farm - peanuts, dairy and pigs - this scene raised questions for me. Pigs on the loose had always triggered an emergency for my dad and his neighbours. Wanderers were soon rounded up and fences were mended.
In Apia no one seemed to be noticing these wandering pigs. I turned to my host with my question: “How do families in Apia know which pigs belong to each household?” My host contemplated my question as he watched the pigs, smiled and gave me a neat answer: “Well we don’t need to worry about that. The pigs know!”
Local knowledge takes many forms. Pacific Islanders have unique ways of working with local knowledge. When its pigs and people no one needs to worry. When its international aid and people that’s a different matter.
Some years after my ‘Pigs Know’ moment, I was attending an international meeting on water resources in the Solomon Islands. Among participants was the engineer responsible for Apia’s town water supply.
Water in Pacific Islands is critical to public health. Typhoid and other water born diseases are endemic, so town water must be well filtered and carefully chlorinated.
A bilateral aid agency had been welcomed by the Government of Western Samoa to design and build a water treatment and articulation system for Apia. The agency sat down with the Government to plan a $20m project.
The Samoans urged the aid agency to design a system that would deliver 650 litres per person per day. The agency was not impressed and responded in words like this: “That would be a vastly over designed system – the world standard is 250 litres a day.” Armed with this standard, the designers built their world class system.
Having rehearsed this moment, my colleague from Apia went on to say: “Water is so plentiful in Samoa, people just leave taps running. I can’t get treated water to the ends of my water mains. Worse still, the government is now making me augment supply by pumping untreated river water into the lines. We could have a typhoid outbreak!”
The take home message ……… “Learn to listen well and take notice of what the locals say. Knowledge sometimes resides in surprising places.”
Use ‘The Pigs Know’ principle to listen laterally, gain and rightly evaluate local knowledge. Insightful and lateral listening is the essence of good design.
'Knowledge sometimes resides in surprising places.'
Jim, your stories are excellent comment and worthy of consideration as their own post.
Would you possibly consider reposting this as its own discrete entry, and not just a comment?
Great stories that make the point so well.
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