My mother will, at the drop of a hat, tell you the story of how as a child, I very nearly didn’t get into my competitive fee-paying primary school because I stubbornly refused to put the blue peg in the red hole during what passes as an interview for three year olds. While my mother likes to see this as a testimony to my non-conformance and independent spirit, the fact is that I simply could not do it then and would very likely struggle to do it today at 37. My particular instances of Dyslexia and  Dyscalculia are pretty mild, although a lot of this Wikipedia entry applies to me, particularly:

• An inability to read a sequence of numbers, or transposing them when repeated, such as turning 56 into 65.
• Problems with differentiating between left and right.
• Difficulty with everyday tasks like checking change and reading analogue clocks.

I was 13 before I knew that calm and clam were two different words. Sixteen was an interesting year in that for the first time I was excelling in a math class (geometry) but was still struggling to read the clock on the wall. And I still remember London’s The Big Number Change in vivid gory detail because at 22, it very nearly drove me over the edge.

Despite the fact that up until last year, I thought Tommy Collison was one of the Collision brothers, this is all generally a less cumbersome problem as an adult then it was when I was in school. Spell check, spreadsheets, calculators and a husband who doesn’t mind saying “Your other left” 27 times a day make life vastly easier. There are really only two things that regularly frustrate me in the real world: dialling long telephone numbers and sending even short text messages, both of which are a slow and arduous processes.

The internet, however, drives me insane on a near daily basis. Here are three things I commonly encounter that are often rendered badly on websites.

Exhibit 1: Logins

The fact these boxes are presented out of order makes it three times as hard for me to log into my bank, because I have to count off the numbers in my PIN on my fingers three times – quite often out loud, which rather defeats the security reason for re-arranging them in the first place. Bank of America, on the other hand, has a login system that entirely avoids this issue, with a pictographic site key that works well.

Exhibit 2: Telephone Numbers

There are worse offenders out there but still, there is no chance – zero – that I could dial that Swedish Swiss number. While Europe does not have the standard (212) 555-1212 format that the US and Canada have, some breakdown of the number is always possible, even if the decision on where to split it is entirely arbitrary. The German number is much more useful, except I don’t speak German (or Swedish, for that matter.)

Exhibit 3: Booking Calendars

This calendar system BREAKS MY BRAIN. As far as I’m concerned, I’m now departing Prague three days before I arrive. Trying to book tickets on Aer Lingus literally made me shriek with rage last week. Things that are presented side by side should match up. (I don’t know why; they just should.) Otherwise, vertically arranging calendars that have offset dates is vastly clearer, every time.

I’m a firm believer that good design makes a better experience for everyone. If your login directions are so complex that a low-literacy user can’t use your system, it sucks for everyone. If your calendar is so confusing that a mildly dyslexic person can’t book anything, it sucks for everyone. If your navigation is so convoluted that a blind person using a screen reader can’t browse your website, it sucks for everyone. In other words, solving 90% of the web’s user interface problems are not about “special” design, they’re just about good design.

And Christ knows, Aer Lingus could use some of that.