What Happened to ON and OFF?

Switches & Buttons: Our Evolution From User-Easy to User-Pulls-Their-Hair-Out

In this tumultuous world, an essay about frustrations over switches, buttons, and settings seems awfully trivial. But, for those who are fed-up with user-*unfriendly* products, it should be comforting to hear that you are not alone.

When I was young, turning a machine on and off was a no-brainer. We were typically given a bright metal toggle switch, boldly displaying the words “On” and “Off”. Such switches worked quickly, flawlessly and effortlessly, so I grew to trust their reliability. But, in modern times, something changed. One could no longer assume that “On” meant *on* and “Off” meant *off*!

Please refer to the chart depicting various on/off switches.

My list of issues with on/off switches began long ago with the advent of TV remote controls. Because much of my young adult life I was poor, I had little experience with remotes until the mid 80’s. My first encounter happened while house-sitting for my brother, who’s home was filled with the latest gadgets, including a large Sony TV. After failing to find an on/off switch on the TV itself, I spied a remote control on the coffee table. Refer to image ( a ). The logo on the remote read, “Sony”, so I gave it a shot. Seeing a red button displaying the power symbol, I carefully pressed it. Sadly, the TV did not turn on. After many attempts, I called my bro for help. Amused at my ignorance, he patiently stepped me through the process of first using a *second* remote to turn on his cable box. I got the hang of it, but was not very impressed. After all, modern gadgets were supposed to be quick and easy. Keeping track of two battery powered remotes seemed like a hassle compared to the days of simply flipping on a TV, not to mention the pain of learning how to use the remotes, and then later having to master countless other remotes. But, that’s a delicious gripe for another day.

By the late eighties, personal computers were all the rage. Like many other desktop users, my attitude toward computers quickly evolved into a mixture of haste, laziness and extreme impatience. Such an approach has gotten me into all kinds of digital trouble, and at that moment in time, I was not prepared for the varied complexities of the new digital age.

Image ( b ) - After acquiring a bulky Windows clone, known as a “tower”, I purchased one of the first software versions of Norton Utilities. Once the program was installed and running, I was presented with a bright green graphic button, which read, “On”. Now, perhaps most others would instantly understand what the button was all about, but I was quickly confused. I stared at the button and wondered whether Norton was factory-set to be *on*, or whether I was supposed to click the green button to *turn it on*. I then hesitantly used the mouse to click the button, which then turned red, displaying the word, “Off”. With no obvious indication of the status of the software, I had a problem. Was the computer telling me that Norton had been switched *off*, or was it indeed *on*? Feeling indecisive, I clicked again, causing the “On” button to reappear. I had never faced such a conundrum. Not being the type who hassles with manuals, I clicked the button once more and never did take the time to go back to figure it all out. I have faced this type of button many times since, and have never gotten used to it.

Next, came the bewildering slider button ( c ). At least with a light bulb, one can directly confirm the operation of a switch. But with certain types of software, there are no visible indicators relaying the message, “I have been activated.” So, when presented with a *sliding* switch, I was once again flummoxed. For proper activation, was I supposed to leave the slider in the position displaying the word “On”, or was I supposed to slide it *over* the lettering “On”, revealing the word “Off”? Why couldn’t programmers simply simulate a plain toggle switch? Everybody knows the toggle, so why make life so difficult? My frustration grew.

Something that confused the issue further was a similar switch I ran across for bringing up either a legal form or a map ( d ). When I slid the switch over to the word “Form”, the *map* displayed, and when I slid it over to “Map”, the *legal form* popped up! This made absolutely no sense. I was beginning to suspect that many programmers were just as confused about switching as I was.

This brings us to the present. What spurred me to write this article was that my latest button mishap actually cost me real world money! This slider ( e ) is the official on/off switch for Facebook ads. Now to me, the round blue button being under the word “Off” must mean that the ad is turned off. In an effort to turn the ad *on*, I slid it to the position below the word, “On”. Well, after learning that my ad had been paused for three days, I realized that I had inadvertently turned it off! Apparently, one needed to place the blue button below the word, “Off” for the ad to be *on*. Now I was mad. The delay had cost me in book sales, and so I decided to burn precious time figuring out where I had gone wrong.

In an attempt to understand the reasoning behind such an incredibly confusing switch, I tried to imagine it in a different light. The following is what I came to believe the programmer was thinking: To turn the ad *off*, you’re supposed to click on the button when it’s under the word “Off”, which causes the button to slide under the word “On”. Then, when you want to turn the ad *on*, you simply click on the button when it’s under the word “On”, regardless of the fact that it moves to the “Off” position. Get it? I’m still not sure if I do.

Perturbed and determined to bring this problem to light, I began pounding-out this very article. Well, part way through my writing, I happened to check-in on my latest ad, ( f ) and low and behold, Facebook had changed their button! Not only that, but they added the word “Slide”. Perhaps, behind the scenes there is actually a debate going on concerning the confusion caused by digital buttons, and I’m justified in my frustration. At least Facebook’s button change brought me a little bit of comfort.

Over on the Reddit website, where I have an ad for my children’s book, “Clouds at Play” (shameless plug), here in image ( g ), Reddit’s button is white and logically positioned under the word “On” when *on*. Given this confirmation, I have to conclude that I was right all along!

Moving on to more button madness, thankfully I don’t have to deal with the panel in image ( h ). My assumption is that these buttons control some type of large and dangerous machine. Now, if a lighted button is not lit, as with the switch on the right, one would assume the switch is *off*, but here I believe the darkened button means the machinery is currently *on* and the *lighted* button indicates another machine that has been turned *off*. Or, perhaps the lighted button indicates machinery that is *on* and the light makes it easier to quickly spot for turning it *off* in an emergency. I simply can’t decide. Having no “On” tag only adds to the confusion. It would be scary to think this panel was installed in a nuclear power plant or missile silo. Actually, I’m sure employees are trained to know which button to press, though, hopefully they never employ someone who thinks like me.

I once had a large amplifier for my electric guitar. When fired-up a little red light ( i ) would come on. But these days, “On” buttons can either display a red *or green* light. This may cause more confusion, since on many devices, red signifies “Off” and green “On” as indicated by the colored button in image ( j ). Regardless, one has to remember that a red light can still signify “On”.

Not only do the switches themselves cause me grief, ( j ) but the international symbols for “On” and “Off” also trip me up. Though I’ve read conflicting stories as to the origin of the power symbols, I tend to believe reports that they were first described in the IEC standard, Graphical symbols for use on equipment, in 1973. These symbols were derived from programming, where the number *one* represents “On” and *zero* represents “Off”. Others contend that the line represents a completed circuit (on) and the circle represents an open circuit (off). Regardless of the argument, I am still left confused concerning the shapes of the symbols themselves.

Here, the general public is given what appears to be a line and a circle, with the line displayed either horizontally or vertically. In my eyes, a mere line for “On” just doesn’t make any sense. After all, a flat line brings to mind *closed eyes* or even the term “flat-lining”, meaning dead or closed down. Years ago, when a TV was turned off, one would first see the flash of a flat line. This has stuck with me.

The circle shape for “Off” is equally non-intuitive. A circle brings to mind “O” for “Open” or even the term “Open Circle”. The circle can also remind one of an opened eye or the indication of something that is expanding and in motion. That being said, I often find myself mistaking the line for “Off” and the bold circle for “On”.

While working conventions for a large audio-video company, I caused more than my share of frantic technical incidents by accidentally turning *off* important power-strips. Now, I have to admit that not all people struggle with such issues. Perhaps it is just the way my brain is wired, so in the comment section, feel free to let me know if these symbols make good sense to you.

As a way of dealing with my confusion over the 1/0 symbols, I figured I could simply memorize the right/left *depressed position* of the toggle on a power strip ( k ). What I discovered, though, was when a power strip is seen from a different angle, the positioning concept goes right out the window. Silly me. Thankfully, after getting this all down in writing, I may now finally begin to remember the correct meaning of these symbols.

My final complaint involves microwave ovens. These machines are notorious for their confounding buttons. Most microwaves feature both “Start” and “Stop”. The microwave in image ( L ) has no “Stop” button at all. User beware, because once this baby begins blistering your burrito, precious seconds will tick away before you realize that the only way to stop the thing is to throw open the oven door. Amazing.

The microwave in image ( m ) also lacks a “Stop” button. This one displays both a “Power” and “Start” button. Why it says, “A.Start”, I have no idea. At first glance, I can’t tell whether “Power” is for turning on the microwave, or for stopping the cooking, or for changing the levels of microwave intensity. Knowing my impulsive nature, I would most likely fling something into this oven and quickly hit the “Power” button. Once nothing happened, I would tap it couple more times, before noticing the “A.Start” button. Of course, in initially hitting the power button so many times, there’s the chance I had raised the cooking power to a dangerous level. This is just one more example of how I get myself into button trouble.

I have a feeling that someone out there is yelling, “Just read the manual, stupid!” Though they are right, in my travels, I run across bizarre microwaves all the time, and there’s no way I’m going to track down all of these manuals.

The button in ( n ) is more straight forward, though when my dinner begins to smoke and bubble, I usually search the panel for a bright red “Stop” button. The time it would take me to decipher the meaning of “Pause/Cancel” could mean the difference between sizzling pizza and molten lava.

And finally, for my favorite. My brother recently told me about a top hotel chain, where the in-room microwaves are always confounding the customers. Image ( o ) - Though this appears to be the easiest button of all, it is actually frustration incarnate. You see, with this microwave, pressing “On” actually does nothing! As for the “Off” button, even if you got the oven running, a push on this button does nothing either. Needless to say, customers routinely complain, at which point they are informed that in order to operate the microwave properly, one has to push the *thin vertical line* at the very center of the button - push once for *on*, and push again for *off*. Who knows, maybe this easily ignored middle line is actually a number one, symbolizing “On”. Oy vey!

I hope you got a kick out of my button rundown. Too many of us have suffered in silence for much too long. I suppose it’s already too late to adopt a universal on/off standard, so button madness is sadly something many of us will just have to live with.