I have several qualms over the ever-popular editorial choice to use “quietly” in describing events, particularly in story headlines. It’s… fine in the grand scheme of tech journalism things, but I remain steadfast in my belief that “quietly” is an oft-abused adverb to describe new things that occur but don’t get championed in a company’s press releases.
That said, Apple actually did something quietly in recent weeks that I’m now bringing attention to because it’s interesting from an accessibility perspective. Earlier this month, the Cupertino-based company put out a new “Help Me Choose” webpage which, as the name suggests, is intended to assist prospective Mac buyers with deciding which machine to spend their hard-earned money on. The conceit is simple: Apple designed a simple questionnaire which gauges a person’s use case and budget, then uses—what else?—artificial intelligence to take the information and spit out a recommendation. Apple allows buyers some wiggle room to hedge by letting them check multiple boxes if needed.
In a nice touch, there are monochrome emojis in the quiz. They make the experience feel less clinical and more like an actual, casual conversation.
In doing my journalistic duty, I’ve completed Apple’s questionnaire twice: the first time, the company suggested a 16-inch MacBook Pro while the second time they proffered a Mac Studio—both machines obviously running Apple silicon. As someone whose 5-year-old Retina 4K iMac is capable of running the forthcoming macOS Sequoia but presumably will be cut off come this time next year, I’m acutely aware that my time running an Intel-based Mac, however great this machine has been and still is to me, is quickly approaching its endgame. I do have an M2 MacBook Pro available for an upgrade, but I’d prefer an external display (and a docking station) for my desk. Those are issues easily remedied, but nevertheless I’m pondering over my next setup that theoretically should take me to the end of the decade and beyond.
So, accessibility. There are a couple benefits here. The first involves cognition. It can be a lot to try to explain to a human in, say, an Apple Store what you do with your computer and what you want it to do. This goes beyond sheer technical specifications; cognitively, it can be intimidating if not nigh impossible for people with certain conditions—say, someone who’s neurodiverse—to clearly and concisely articulate what they need from a new piece of kit. That Apple’s questionnaire excels both in brevity and in its plainspokenness mitigates such concerns; there’s no human to talk to, and the language is written in such a style that it’s easily comprehensible. Where do you use your Mac? What do you do with it? These are elemental questions whose answers require only the tick of a box. Obviously there are accessibility variables surrounding reading comprehension and the like, but the salient point is simply that a virtual experience can be more accessible and less anxiety-inducing for a not-insignificant swath of the tech-buying population.
The second issue pertains to literal accessibility. To wit, it may not be possible for a disabled person to go straight to the source—a worker at one of Apple’s retail outposts—to have their questions answered and get guidance. As with other facets of online shopping, that Apple has provided a virtual way for people to get help choosing a new computer lowers the barrier to entry. There is no need to perhaps physically and logistically strain oneself to get to a brick-and-mortar store, especially if doing so is imprudent due to health concerns. Like with cognition, that Apple is facilitating buying advice online—leveraging AI, no less—presents itself as a more accessible way to get help with buying a new Mac. What’s more, Apple provides a bright blue “Buy Now” button at the end of the quiz if the Mac it recommends truly does fit one’s needs and whims. A computer that’ll be delivered directly to one’s doorstep at that.
All told, Apple’s questionnaire is yet one more example of accessibility existing everywhere. It may not seem that way at first blush, but that’s par for the course when it comes to disability. Nothing ever is what it seems at the surface level. Upon further exploration, however, it’s easy to see how a seemingly innocuous and, frankly, uninteresting mechanism with which to entice people to spend (more) at Apple suddenly transcends sheer convenience and becomes a bonafide assistive technology when trying to buy a new, extremely expensive computer.