“Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”
An absolutely fantastic post about software nudges and pop-ups by Mike Swanson:
If you’ve ever read about “choice architecture” and nudging, this will feel familiar. The modern language for it was popularized in the late 2000s, and the core idea is simple: how choices are presented changes what people do, even if nothing is technically forced.
Then product teams go one step further. Instead of just shaping choices, you can shape timing. Prompts start showing up in the middle of workflows because that’s when the user is “most engaged.”
The industry also has a whole discipline around persuasive design and how to move someone from intention to action with prompts, friction removal, and well-timed triggers. B.J. Fogg’s behavior model is one of the more cited frameworks in this space.
Some nudges are genuinely helpful. But the same machinery that helps you discover a feature can also be used to push you into something you didn’t come here to do. And once the machinery exists, it gets reused.
I am finding myself wanting to quote most of it.
You cannot easily measure the resentment. Or the rage clicks when they smash a button to dismiss another “did you know” pop-up. You cannot easily chart the moment a user thinks, “I used to like this product, and now it feels needy.” You cannot easily quantify the slow erosion of trust.
I have long been frustrated by how the “growth” interfaces haven’t really evolved past cheap and loud pop-ups and defaulting to “let’s just show it.” One of the behaviours that bother me a lot that’s not listed in the post is, for example, installing an app and receiving one or even more “here’s what’s new” onboarding callouts. Hey. I just installed you. Everything is new.
Anyway, maybe one more quote:
Optimize for trust, not just return visits. Short-term engagement can be increased by annoyance. Long-term loyalty is harder and more valuable. The best products I use don’t constantly remind me to use them. They quietly do their job so well that I come back when I need them. That’s what tools are supposed to do.