There's a kind of average sameness to the world that frustrates me in a deep way that all at once makes me feel judgmental and maybe a little pretentious, but really just tired and frustrated. I think the frustration for me is profoundly deeper in online spaces because I've been here since 1993 and all of my early hopes have crumbled into a shallow, safe, sameness.
And it’s not just the sameness—it’s the willingness to accept it, even celebrate it, that feels like the bigger betrayal. The early internet was messy, chaotic, and deeply weird, and that’s what made it beautiful. It felt alive, full of risks and surprises. Now it feels like the edges have been sanded down, the chaos replaced with curated predictability, all designed to be as inoffensive and profitable as possible. That’s the part that really cuts: not that the world changed, but that so few people seem to care.
It's disturbing for me personally in some ways because part of my job as a web developer was often to run multivariate and split testing. The products were occasional gifts like flowers and chocolates at one company, and tax software at another. Both ran tests. Lots of tests. Let me explain how this works...
You set up variations of a webpage—maybe different headlines, button colors, layouts, or images—and show them to random slices of visitors. The system tracks which version gets the most clicks, sales, or sign-ups, and voilà! You have your “winner.” But here’s the thing: the winner is almost always the most average, the least risky, the option that offends no one and excites no one. It’s optimization in action, but it’s also a slow death for creativity. Over time, you’re not just testing—you're training the entire experience to appeal to the broadest, safest audience. It works, but it also erases any spark of individuality.
These corporations used this on everything, and a lot of it left me feeling slimy after implementing the request. For instance... one test took a look at how far they could push the cost of shipping before the customer was hooked and found it too much trouble to look for a less expensive option. In another, the company implemented an extra service charge during a fuel crisis. This was based on nothing, and they tested just how high they could make the price before people bailed. They also tested on what sold and what didn't sell, adjusting the creative teams to design things that hit that averageness.
Other companies have done similar things. Some examples include:
- Airlines: Testing how small they can make the seat space, how much they can charge for baggage, and even charging for things like seat selection, snacks, or early boarding—pushing until customers grumble but still pay.
- Fast Food Chains: Rolling out value menus or “limited-time” offers after testing how low-quality ingredients can go while keeping customers buying. The result? Cheaper, blander, more generic options.
- Streaming Services: Tweaking algorithms to prioritize “safe” content over innovative or challenging stories—because tried-and-true formulas keep people binging longer.
- Retail Giants: Adjusting free shipping thresholds, return policies, or subscription perks to find the sweet spot where customers stick but still squeeze extra revenue.
It’s not just testing for customer satisfaction—it’s testing for maximum extraction. The goal isn’t a better experience; it’s the most profitable average experience. And it seeps into everything, creating this feedback loop of blandness that you can’t escape. It’s no wonder it feels slimy. At its core, it’s manipulation dressed up as data-driven decision-making.
I hated that feeling like I was manipulating people. Hated it. I eventually burnt out of the job entirely, and the mediocrity is really a big part of the reason why. I don't want to live in a world that's small in all the wrong ways. I hate that I contributed to it, even if I was just doing my job, and I strive to run my own business without that. And... for some reason people hate that.