Design is often described as a conversation, but I’d take it a step further. It’s a subtle dance—a back-and-forth between the creators and the people who interact with what we’ve built. We, as designers, may lay down the initial steps, but it’s the users who decide whether to follow the lead, improvise, or carve their own paths entirely. The dynamic is fluid, ever-changing, and it’s where things get interesting.

Think about the common example used to explain how people interact with design: a carefully planned path through a park. Over time, people decide they prefer a shortcut, veering off the paved trail and creating a dirt path through the grass. As that dirt trail becomes more permanent, the lesson seems obvious: "Users know best; we should have built the path there in the first place." End of story, right?

Not quite.

Yes, there's truth to the idea that users often forge their own way, but there's more to this story. The relationship between design and user behavior isn’t a straightforward cause-and-effect. It's a dialogue—nuanced and layered. And in that dialogue, both sides have agency. It’s not just about surrendering to the user’s instincts, nor is it about rigidly sticking to our initial designs. It’s about acknowledging the space in between.

The dance of design

When we design something, we’re doing more than creating functional objects. We’re setting the stage for choices, creating frameworks that influence how people engage with the world. Think about shopping cart corrals. They're simple enough: a clear place to return your cart after unloading groceries. Yet we all know that not everyone uses them. Some people return the cart; others leave it in a random spot. Is that a failure of design? Not necessarily. Should we assume these shoppers are lazy or selfish? Probably not. It’s a reminder that people bring their own priorities, habits, and momentary motivations to every interaction.

And that’s where design gets fascinating.

Instead of seeing deviations from the “ideal” use case as a failure, what if we viewed them as clues? Every time a user behaves in a way we didn’t anticipate, they’re telling us something about their needs, desires, or even just their state of mind at that moment. Design can guide behavior, but it can’t (and shouldn’t) control it. There’s always a tension between what we create and how people use it, and that tension is where we can learn the most.

Designing with curiosity

The question isn’t whether users or designers are “right.” It’s about what this interaction tells us. What are we learning about the people using what we’ve built? How are we influencing them, and how are they responding?

When users take unexpected shortcuts, skip steps, or ignore features, it’s not a rejection of design. It’s an invitation to understand more about the context they’re navigating. The choices people make are signals, and as designers, it’s our job to listen. But listening doesn’t mean conceding. It’s about curiosity and balance—understanding where we can refine our designs and where we need to allow flexibility for users to engage in their own way.

Flexibility meets intention

Good design doesn’t eliminate friction at all costs, nor does it simply give in to every user instinct. It strikes a balance between guiding behavior and leaving room for autonomy. We, as makers, are both facilitators and participants in this dynamic. We create structures, but those structures shouldn’t dictate; they should invite engagement, foster creativity, and sometimes even gently push back.

There’s a real art in designing spaces—whether digital or physical—that feel natural and intuitive, yet still support thoughtful interaction. We shouldn’t aim for control, but we also don’t have to relinquish all influence. The goal is to shape environments where people feel empowered to act, but also understand the intent behind what we’ve built.

The long game of design

Ultimately, design is not static. It’s a living conversation. And like any good conversation, it evolves. Users will continue to surprise us, and that’s a good thing. It keeps us on our toes, pushes us to think deeper, and reminds us that we’re not just building products—we’re shaping experiences.

We don’t have to be passive observers of user behavior, nor should we be rigid enforcers of design intent. Instead, we should approach the relationship between what we make and how people use it as an ongoing dialogue. A dance. One where both sides are always learning, adapting, and moving forward together.

And in that dance, there’s room for nuance, intention, and, most importantly, growth.