One student waited seven days for electricity — stopped by a single field on a form, and no sign pointing to the way around it.

We began with an open question: what's the hardest part of moving to Pittsburgh as an international student? Everyone assumed it was finding an apartment.
House-hunting is stressful, but it has a clear ending. The real collapse happens after the lease is signed — when electricity, gas and Wi-Fi all have to appear in the same week. And electricity is the one everything else depends on.
That single finding moved the project's scope. We stopped looking at renting, and started looking at the week after you get the keys.
Fig. 1 — Journey map built from interviews and co-design.
Affinity mapping surfaced three consistent complaints about DLC, Pittsburgh's electric provider:
Unclear instructions; students can't tell which documents or path is right.
The system asks for SSNs and notarized documents students can't provide.
Hour-long holds and endless email back-and-forth.
Most projects would stop here and redesign the interface. We kept going — because three symptoms this consistent usually share one cause.
We walked DLC's own registration flow as a service blueprint and went down one layer at a time.
The information architecture makes the entry point hard to find. This is where most redesigns would begin — and end.
New Service, Stop Service, Transfer Service — every path eventually asks for an SSN, account number, or meter number. A student who just landed has none of the three.
There is a path for applicants without an SSN — and most students already have what it needs: a passport, an enrollment letter, a student visa. But that path is buried deeper still, and at the login and application screens there is no “No SSN? Start here” — no link, no hint, nothing.
The documents were obtainable. The process was survivable. What was missing was any visible route for the people the default path was never designed for.
Fig. 2 — Walking DLC's own flow, step by step. Every route converges on the same wall.
They asked someone who had. A senior who survived an hour on hold, or who eventually dug up the no-SSN document list and the right email address, and then passed the recipe on — to a roommate, a junior, a Facebook group.
This was never an interface problem. It was a knowledge-distribution problem. The most valuable thing in the whole system was tribal knowledge held by students who'd already made it through — and it reached you only if you happened to know the right person.
Which reframed what we were building. Not a prettier form — a way to turn that tribal knowledge into a product: the signpost, and the key.
Then came the uncomfortable part. We had a clear solution — but it lived inside a regulated monopoly. DLC is the only electric provider in Pittsburgh. Unhappy students don't leave, because there's nowhere to go. The pain is entirely the user's; almost none of it lands on the company.
Support capacity is a shared resource. Pittsburgh is a student city, and every August the same avoidable questions flood the same phone line — the line where an hour on hold is normal.
That queue is also where outage calls land. Clogging it isn't a customer-experience problem for DLC; it's an operational risk — and a seasonal cost in overtime and temporary staffing.
Waiting for a monopoly to care is not a strategy. The people with urgent incentive are the ones already absorbing this work for free:
Universities answering the same question every August. Landlords who need tenants moved in and verified. Student communities already passing recipes around by hand.
Build there, prove the verification pipeline, and DLC's reason to integrate arrives on its own: someone else has already done the work, and the applications land clean.
A layer that sits in front of the utility, turning a bureaucratic dead end into a guided, independent application.
Banks already accept this exact document set — passport, enrollment letter, visa — to open an account, a far higher-stakes relationship than switching on the lights. If a bank can establish who someone is this way, a utility can too, using the same identity-verification infrastructure the industry already runs on.
Which path is right depends on the housing situation, and the student is rarely the one who knows it. A fresh lease means opening a new account. A sublet or a private rental could be a transfer or a new activation, depending on what the previous tenant did, and the landlord doesn't always say. The form asks students to pick one of three options using information they don't have.
This was a concept project, so there are no shipped numbers to report. But a design without a definition of success is just a proposal — so here is what I would instrument, and what I would watch for.
US utilities also use it to run credit checks that decide whether a deposit is required. A credential that replaces the SSN has to answer that question too — not just “who are you”.
Map DLC's actual systems with their team to define exactly where this layer plugs in.
Confirm what counts as acceptable identity verification for a utility account.
Water, gas, internet — the same wall, the same missing signpost.
The parties already absorbing this work, and the fastest route to real usage.
One verified identity that opens every door a newcomer needs.
Two things I've carried into every project since.
The first problem you find is rarely the real one. Three layers down, the villain wasn't a bad interface — it was a missing signpost for the people the system was never designed for. Getting there took refusing to stop at the first plausible answer.
A good solution still needs someone who wants it. Finding the right fix and finding who has a reason to adopt it are two different jobs — and the second one decides whether the first ever ships.
