A lot of people in our industry haven't had very diverse

Host: The night hummed softly with the distant buzz of city lights. In a downtown studio, half-lit by neon reflections and the low glow of a laptop screen, sketches covered the walls — arcs, patterns, fragments of human faces drawn in hurried strokes. The rain outside tapped gently against the glass, like a quiet metronome marking the rhythm of thought. Jack sat on a wooden stool, hands clasped, eyes cold but tired. Jeeny stood by the window, her silhouette soft against the blue haze. They had just finished another design sprint, yet neither seemed at peace.

Jeeny: “Steve Jobs once said, ‘The broader one's understanding of the human experience, the better design we will have.’ Do you think we’ve forgotten that, Jack?”

Jack: (leans back, exhales) “Forgotten it? No. Ignored it, maybe. But tell me, Jeeny — how’s someone supposed to understand the whole human experience sitting in front of a screen twelve hours a day? We’re designers, not philosophers.”

Host: The light flickered as a bus passed by below, its headlights painting a brief glow over their faces — one hard, one tender, both marked by fatigue.

Jeeny: “But we should be philosophers. Every product, every interface we build touches a life — someone’s hope, someone’s fear, someone’s struggle. How can we create for people we don’t even try to understand?”

Jack: “You romanticize it. Look — Apple, Tesla, SpaceX, they all talk about experience and vision. But underneath, it’s still engineering, metrics, efficiency. People buy what works, not what feels right. Jobs himself — he wasn’t building empathy workshops, he was building machines.”

Jeeny: “Machines with a soul. He connected the dots between art, technology, and human longing. You call that linear?”

Jack: “I call it an exception, not a rule. Most people don’t have that kind of mind. You can’t teach diverse experience. You can’t program someone to feel what it’s like to grow up in poverty, or to lose a child, or to paint in a tiny room with no food. That’s life — unpredictable, unfair, and not scalable.”

Host: Jeeny turned slowly, her reflection in the window now facing him — her eyes like dark water, filled with both fire and compassion. The rain behind her drew long silver threads across the glass, like memories running down a face.

Jeeny: “Maybe not scalable, Jack. But necessary. Because design isn’t just function — it’s meaning. Think of the Bauhaus movement — they designed not just chairs or buildings, but ways of living. They believed in merging craft, art, and society. Isn’t that what we’re missing?”

Jack: (laughs dryly) “Bauhaus? Come on. Half those designers ended up broke or forgotten. The world doesn’t reward idealism, Jeeny — it rewards results. You know who gets promoted here? The one who delivers on time, not the one who wanders through philosophy books.”

Jeeny: “And yet those same results are what make everything feel the same. Every app, every product, every office — identical. We’ve built a world that’s efficient but soulless.”

Host: Jack stood, his shadow stretching across the blueprints scattered on the table. The air between them grew tense, vibrating with unspoken truths.

Jack: “So what do you want, Jeeny? For every designer to take a sabbatical and ‘find themselves’? Spend six months backpacking in Nepal so their wireframes feel more human?”

Jeeny: (steps closer, voice trembling but steady) “I want them to see. To listen. To stop designing for their own reflection. When you build for people you’ve never met, without imagining their pain, their context, their joy, you end up designing walls, not doors.”

Host: The clock ticked — each second like a quiet hammer driving into the heart of the argument.

Jack: “You sound like a preacher.”

Jeeny: “Maybe someone has to. Look at the iPhone — it wasn’t the most powerful phone when it came out. But it understood people. It knew we wanted connection, not just functionality. It was made by someone who saw beauty in simplicity, who could link calligraphy with code, Zen with electronics.”

Jack: (pauses, softer now) “I get that. But even Jobs was ruthless. He fired people, broke hearts, pushed beyond sanity. That’s not empathy — that’s obsession.”

Jeeny: “It’s both. Maybe that’s the paradox — true creativity needs diversity, and diversity means contradiction. Pain and joy. Logic and emotion. You can’t have one without the other.”

Host: Silence fell for a moment. The rain outside slowed, and the faint hum of the city filled the gap. Jeeny’s hands trembled slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Jack watched her, eyes searching, as though her words had reached a place he’d tried to keep closed.

Jack: “You talk about diversity like it’s something we can just download. But our industry doesn’t want different. It wants predictable. It’s safer that way. Shareholders don’t like surprises.”

Jeeny: “Then maybe it’s our job to surprise them. Remember when Dieter Rams said, *‘Good design is as little design as possible’? He wasn’t talking about minimalism — he was talking about clarity of purpose. You can’t reach that kind of clarity if your world is narrow.”

Jack: (rubs his temple) “You know what’s funny? You talk about understanding humanity, but the deeper I go into it, the less I understand. People contradict themselves, they lie, they dream and destroy in the same breath. How do you design for that?”

Jeeny: “By admitting we’re part of it. You can’t design for chaos from the outside. You have to live in it — feel it. That’s what Jobs meant, Jack. The dots he talked about — they come from living, not just working.”

Host: The room felt smaller now, as though the walls had drawn closer around them. The rain had stopped completely, leaving behind the faint smell of wet asphalt and electric air.

Jack: “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve been looking at it all wrong. I’ve been trying to make things perfect, not meaningful.”

Jeeny: “Perfection isn’t human. Meaning is.”

Jack: “And yet, people expect perfection. Clients do. Users do. You do.”

Jeeny: (softly) “I expect honesty. Even if it’s imperfect.”

Host: The tension loosened, like a knot slowly unraveling. The city’s hum returned, warm and alive. Jack walked toward the window, standing beside Jeeny. Their reflections overlapped in the glass — two figures, one logic, one heart, both searching for the same elusive truth.

Jack: “You know… maybe design isn’t about connecting dots at all. Maybe it’s about being one of them.”

Jeeny: (smiles faintly) “Exactly. You can’t connect what you refuse to be part of.”

Host: Outside, the sky began to brighten, the first pale threads of dawn weaving through the clouds. The city exhaled — a new day, a new chance. Jack’s grey eyes softened, catching a hint of the morning light. Jeeny leaned on the window frame, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeeny: “The broader our understanding of human experience, the better we’ll design — not just products, but lives.”

Jack: “And maybe the better we’ll live.”

Host: The camera would pull back here — two silhouettes against the awakening city, one conversation lingering in the air like smoke. In that quiet moment, the world felt less like a machine, and more like a story still being written.