Whirlpool Finds Its Cool

For the first time in the company's history, Jones brought industrial designers, usability researchers, graphic artists, and engineers together under the same roof. Cross-functional teams meet regularly for brainstorming and product-review sessions. "I'm not a believer in putting designers off in an ivory tower," Jones says. "They need to have a voice at the table so they can identify where and why design can make a difference." But with that voice comes responsibility, he adds. "We also need to understand the business issues. If we don't make our numbers this quarter, we don't earn the right to do something [cool] the next time."

Along with creating cross-functional teams, Jones took a cue from the car industry and reorganized his group by brand rather than by product. Much like different lines of cars, he wants Whirlpool's 16 major brands -- from Sears's Kenmore to Latin America's Brastemp -- to be distinctive. Each has its own "visual brand language" -- signature elements that give refrigerators and washers a consistent and complementary look and feel.

The Duet, a front-loading washer for North America, was the first real test for Jones's group. Jones and other execs wanted a matching dryer so they could sell the machines as a duo (hence the name). But the idea ran up against Whirlpool's research, which indicated that about 80% of its washers and dryers were purchased separately. Designing, manufacturing, and shipping the dryer would require a high level of coordination, too, since the washer was made in Germany and the dryer factory was in the United States. Worse yet, one-third of a focus group rejected the design. "In the past, that would have been the kiss of death," Jones says. "This was one of those watershed moments that tested the company's fiber. You can't expect consumers to articulate that leap to the next breakthrough idea. It's our job to lead them there."

And so Jones stood firm. During a senior-level review, he said he felt so strongly about the concept that he would quit if the company didn't follow through on it. "As a leader, you have to pick a hill and be willing to die on it," he says. Jones became king of that hill: The Duet was a hit, and 80% of the machines were bought in tandem. The breakthrough demonstrated that design could alter buyer behavior and drive sales.

Customer as Collaborator

Jones is an inveterate engineer and gadget nut. He grew up on an Indiana farm, which "taught me how to be quick-thinking and how to fix things," he says. When he was 5, the story goes, he took apart the family lawn mower and repaired it. At Whirlpool, he goes on service calls once a quarter to see how products are holding up. After one visit, he devised an apparatus that made it easier for service technicians to remove a microwave-hood combination unit that had been recalled. By eliminating the need for a second technician and halving the repair time, he saved the company $11 million.

If Whirlpool is an unlikely design leader, Jones is a quintessential industrial designer. His office looks like a cross between a racetrack garage and a toy store. In all, there are 17 model cars on display, along with racing posters and photos, including one of Mario Andretti with Jones in his twenties. He started racing professionally at 15 and worked on race cars after graduating from Purdue with degrees in industrial design and human-factors engineering. Jones has a race-car driver's looks -- a compact build and restless, almost mischievous energy.

More than once, he turned down the headhunter who pitched him on Whirlpool back in 1995. Jones, who had designed office furniture at Herman Miller and copiers at Xerox, changed his mind after learning about Whirlpool's global reach (currently, 50 international locations and 68,000 employees) and its plans to become more consumer focused. Design, he knew, could play a big role. It's all about understanding consumers. Jones considers them his chief collaborators in the creative process.

Still, since customers can't articulate the problem that needs solving, he and his team must study them -- in Whirlpool labs and at times in their own kitchens. In the refrigerator usability session, three cameras capture the action and a designer jots down the woman's every move. One of the trickier tests is replacing the water filter. "This ought to be good," Jones cracks.

The volunteer searches repeatedly but can't find the filter. When she locates the gizmo on her second try by consulting the owner's manual, Jones offers a little play-by-play: "The crowd goes wild!" Her trouble finding the item and removing it raises a flag, though. "We need to look at that again," he says.

Jones isn't disappointed. If anything, he's relieved: Because of customers like her, the fridge will only get better.

Chuck Salter is a Fast Company senior writer based in Chicago.