I love user personas, don't you?
So far, I've met Emily. She's a marketing manager. She juggles deadlines with school pickups for her two young kids. She's constantly switching between her laptop, tablet and phone throughout the day, often multitasking. Emily wants intuitive interfaces that help her get the job done quickly.
I've also met Dave. He's a freelancer who works primarily from coffee shops and co-working spaces. He needs reliable, fast-loading applications with minimal interfaces that don't get in his way.
And Claire, the customer success lady who spends her days helping clients solve problems and onboard new users. Her biggest wish is for software that actually makes sense to normal people.
Emily, Dave and Claire all have perfect vision and flawless motor skills. They all share superhuman hearing and can click on anything smaller than a pinhead. "Assistive" is not part of their vocabulary.
What a load of bollocks.
Your personas are living in some fantasy world where disability doesn't exist. Where are screen reader users? What about dyslexic or hearing-impaired people?
You've spent weeks crafting these detailed profiles about coffee preferences and weekend hobbies, but you can't be asked to consider that some users might navigate with their keyboard or need larger text. You've created this neat little bubble where everyone fits your narrow definition of "normal."
But real humans are messier than your sanitised personas. Some can't see your colour-coded charts. Some can't hear your auto-playing videos. Some can't precisely click your microscopic icon-only buttons.
But sure, keep on keeping on. Design for your imaginary perfect users while the rest struggle with your inaccessible crap. Brilliant strategy.