The thumb twitches before the brain even decides to look. It is a sharp, staccato downward pull, a repetitive stress injury of the soul that we have mistaken for interest. I am sitting on the edge of a chair that has seen 107 better days, watching the blue light flicker against the glass of a half-empty water bottle. The screen refreshes. A little spinning wheel appears for precisely 0.7 seconds-just long enough to trigger a micro-dose of cortisol-and then the feed spills over with content I didn’t ask for and won’t remember. I’ve performed this exact gesture 87 times since I sat down. It is not enjoyment. It is a muscular habit, a neurological loop that feels more like pacing in a small, well-decorated prison cell than exploring a digital frontier. We are living in the era of the ‘engaged’ user, which is a polite industry term for someone who is trapped in a room they forgot they could leave.
Logan N.S. knows this better than anyone I have ever met. Logan is an assembly line optimizer by trade, a man who views the world as a series of bottlenecks waiting to be widened. He once told me about a project where he increased the throughput of a plastic molding plant by 27 percent in a single week. The owners threw a party. They drank expensive Scotch and patted Logan on the back. It wasn’t until 37 days later that they realized they were producing 477 units of scrap for every 17 units of usable product. The machines were humming. The workers were busy. The metrics were ‘up.’ But the actual value was buried in a dumpster behind the warehouse.
The Scrap Pile of Metrics
Units of Scrap (Motion)
Usable Product (Value)
This, Logan argued while poking at a lukewarm salad, is exactly what we have done to the internet. We have optimized the factory to produce motion, entirely forgetting that the goal was supposed to be the product. In our case, the product is human satisfaction, and we are currently running at a massive deficit.
Sensory Change Seeking
I find myself getting up and walking to the kitchen for the 7th time this hour. I open the fridge. I stare at a jar of pickles and a block of cheese that looks increasingly suspicious. I am not hungry. I am looking for a change in the sensory environment, a physical ‘refresh’ button because my brain has been flattened by the infinite scroll. I close the fridge, wait 17 seconds, and then open it again, as if a gourmet meal might have spontaneously manifested in the interim.
“We are designing systems that mimic the psychological profile of a restless, hungry person standing in front of an empty refrigerator.”
This is the exact same behavior I exhibit on my phone. We call it engagement because the door opened and closed. We count the ‘opens.’ We measure the ‘dwell time.’ We never bother to ask if the person actually ate anything.
The Aggressive Stupidity of Measurement
(The system doesn’t distinguish between learning and paralysis.)
Logan N.S. calls this ‘The Friction Delusion.’ He argues that we have become so good at removing the friction required to start an action that we have inadvertently removed the friction required to stop one. We’ve made it so easy to stay that it’s actually harder to leave, creating a sort of gravitational pull that rewards the lowest common denominator of human attention.
“It’s the digital equivalent of counting a person who is stuck in a revolving door as a frequent visitor to the building. They aren’t visiting; they are just trying to find the exit without getting hit in the face.”
The Nutrient Deficit
When we stop designing for enjoyment and start designing for metrics, we create products that are essentially high-fructose corn syrup for the mind. It is technically energy, but it has no nutrients, and it leaves you feeling worse than when you started. I’ve spoken to designers who admit, in hushed tones after 1 or 7 drinks, that they hate the products they build.
The Metrics War
Version A
+7% Clicks
Always Wins Boardroom
Version B
Makes User Human
Loses Spreadsheet Test
They want the 7 percent. They need the 7 percent to justify the $777 million valuation. This is where we find the real disconnect. We have separated the act of using a tool from the purpose of the tool itself. A hammer is a high-engagement tool if you are constantly hitting your thumb with it, but a good hammer is one you use for 17 minutes to hang a picture and then put away for a month. We are currently building hammers that scream at us to keep swinging even when there are no nails left.
The Philosophy of Intentionality
I think back to Logan’s assembly line. He eventually quit that job. He told me he couldn’t stand the sight of the scrap pile anymore. He started looking for ways to build systems that respected the material rather than just the clock. This philosophy of intentionality is rare, but it is the only thing that will save us from the ‘pacing in circles’ syndrome.
Entry Point (Initial Click)
Metrics Record: +1
77 Minutes Swiping
Metrics Record: +77 (Flat Line)
The Exit Button
The Uncounted Win
We need platforms that value the ‘exit’ as much as the ‘entry.’ We need interfaces that recognize that 7 minutes of genuine joy is infinitely more valuable than 77 minutes of mindless swiping.
When I look at how ems89 approaches the intersection of technology and human systems, I see a glimmer of that Logan-esque realization: that the metric is not the mission. The mission is the experience. If you optimize for the wrong thing, you will get exactly what you asked for, and you will hate it when it arrives.
“
There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from being ‘engaged’ without being satisfied. It’s a dry, dusty feeling in the back of the throat. I feel it every time I catch myself looking at my phone while I’m already holding my phone, a recursive loop of searching for a novelty that has been sanded down by the very algorithms meant to provide it.
The Theft of Finite Time
Logan once suggested that every app should have a ‘satisfaction’ slider that pops up every 47 minutes. If the user slides it to ‘miserable,’ the app should legally be required to lock itself for 7 hours. Of course, this would tank the stock price. It would be a disaster for the ‘growth hackers’ and the ‘engagement gurus’ who have built their careers on the back of our twitching thumbs.
Time Spent Fighting Habit (27 Mins)
100% Focused Outward
I’ve spent the last 27 minutes writing this, and in that time, I’ve had to fight the urge to check my email 7 times. Why? There is nothing in my email that will make my life better right now. It is just more motion. More digital ‘scrap’ being produced by the factory of my own habits. I am my own Logan N.S., staring at my own assembly line and realizing that my throughput is high but my value is hovering near zero.
[The shadow of the metric is longer than the light of the experience.]
The Radical Act of Walking Away
We have to be willing to break the machines. Or, at the very least, we have to be willing to walk away from them when they stop serving us. The next time you find yourself scrolling, stop and ask yourself if you are enjoying the moment or if you are just ‘engaged.’ If the answer is the latter, put the phone down. Go to the fridge and don’t open it. Go outside and look at a tree for 7 minutes.
Look at a Tree
It won’t track you.
Walk Away
Value the exit.
It won’t track your eye movement. It won’t A/B test the color of its leaves to ensure you stay longer. It will just be a tree. And in a world that is trying to turn you into a data point, being a person who can look at a tree and then walk away is the most radical thing you can do. We are more than the sum of our clicks. We are human beings, and we deserve to enjoy our lives, not just engage with them until the battery dies.