The success of the smartphone boils down to one thing — the reason iOS and Android conquered the world while no one remembers Windows Phone: there’s an app for everything.
Your teachers might’ve told you to “learn how to calculate in your head because you won’t be carrying a calculator in your pocket all the time.” Jokes on them. We now carry not just a calculator, but also a camera, a bank, a navigation device, a notepad, a 24/7 everything-store, and much more — all in one small glowing rectangle.
Thinking about it, it is a groundbreaking piece of technology. Having a device that can do almost anything sounds utopian — but what did we, as humanity, actually choose to do with it?
Stalker in your pocket
Imagine you’re walking through town and see an interesting little shop. You go in, maybe buy something, maybe not. But after you leave, a sales guy from the store starts following you around.
He watches what you look at, where you go, who you meet. Sometimes he whispers, “I got something new in my store, come see it.” Other times, he shouts, “Limited time offer! Only today! — only for you, my dear friend!”
At first, it’s mildly annoying. Then it gets weird. You’re sitting at a café with an actual friend, talking about how your old fridge is getting loud — and suddenly, the guy bursts in, throws pictures of ten fridges on your table, and says, “My friend! Special price just for you — only within the next two hours though. You’ll love this one, trust me!”
How long would you last until you punch that guy?
Now imagine you have not one of these guys, but an army of them — all following you, shouting over each other, trying to get your attention every minute of the day.
That’s exactly what’s happening with your apps. Bombarding you with constant notifications. It’s not just shopping apps — they’re simply the worst offenders.
How many tears are optimal for engagement?
Over the years, app makers have perfected the science of getting you to open their app again. It’s not random — it’s behavioral design. Entire teams of psychologists and engineers spend their days figuring out how to poke at your brain’s weak spots until you give in and tap.
That goes as far as Duolingo testing how many tears the little owl should cry when you forget a daily lesson. Every sound, badge, and notification is a small experiment on human attention:
• Red dots create urgency.
• Streaks and progress bars reward consistency.
• “Only today” deals trigger FOMO.
• Infinite scroll keeps you chasing the next little hit of dopamine, since there’s no definite end.
And it’s not just shopping apps.
Social media keeps you chasing likes and comments.
Streaming apps autoplay the next episode before you can even think.
Even so-called “productivity” apps track your streaks and send guilt trips when you miss a day. But since you are so special and so productive: you can repair your streak – for a few bucks.
It’s not evil — it’s “just business.” The more time you spend inside the app, the more valuable you are. You’ll either spend money, watch ads, or feed the algorithms with data that make the next hook even sharper.
Shopping apps are true masters of this craft. They dangle “exclusive” discounts and fake countdowns that reset every week, all while whispering “special offer just for you.”
It’s a system designed to keep your attention spinning in circles.
What it is not designed for: your control. Every swipe, every tap, every “just one more minute” is time you didn’t choose to spend — it was chosen for you.
It’s not spying, it’s predicting
Privacy is everyone’s own decision. If you want to share everything online, that’s your choice — and honestly, that’s fine.
But the reality is: the data you give isn’t the only data they get. And “they” are often also multiple “theys”
Most apps don’t just track what you enter — they track how you behave. Where you go, how long you stay there, what time you unlock your phone, even how fast you scroll or how long you hesitate before tapping something. These little patterns are used to figure out who you are when you’re most vulnerable — the moments when you’re tired, lonely, stressed, or bored. They call those “optimal engagement windows.” If you don’t believe me, believe the New York Times.
Think about it: after a long, exhausting day, you open your phone just to check the weather — and somehow end up looking at food delivery deals. That’s not a lucky coincidence. That’s design. The app knows that right after 6 p.m., you’re more likely to engage with their notifications.
It’s not a hacker stealing your data — it’s a system that knows exactly when to whisper in your ear.
Even if you don’t care about privacy, care about your peace of mind. Because those little red dots and push notifications aren’t neutral. They’re designed to create tension — that tiny discomfort that only goes away once you tap. Every time you give in, you teach your brain that distraction feels better than focus.
How about Movies in Bed with Your Boss?
At this point, you might think the solution is simple: just delete all the apps, right?
No notifications, no data collection, no manipulative algorithms — peace at last.
But it’s not that easy. Some apps are genuinely useful. They help us navigate, stay in touch, learn, and get things done. The problem is that even the useful ones can be a little too eager to stay involved. Especially the ones we use for work.
Imagine this: you come home after a long day at the office. You’re exhausted, your head still buzzing with pointless politics and the sound of your coworker’s incompetence echoing in your brain. You drop your bag, take a deep breath, and finally start to relax.
Your loving family makes it all fade away — there’s laughter, a good meal, maybe even dessert. Later, you all settle into the couch, ready to unwind with Happy Gilmore 2. Life is good.
SUDDENLY — your boss bursts through the window yelling about the slideshow you have to finish two days from now.
Ridiculous image, right? But that’s exactly what we’ve normalized with Slack notifications, email alerts, and app pings that follow us everywhere — even into bed.
Every app wants to be urgent. Every notification wants to convince you that now is the time to look, scroll, buy, respond. And slowly, without noticing, we lose control over when we give our attention — it’s taken from us in tiny, polite interruptions.
What Are We actually Saving the Time For?
I’ve been reading a book lately that I can’t stop thinking about. In it, a group of agents convinces the once kind, thoughtful people of a town that they must “save time” — so they can enjoy it later.
So, they start waking up earlier, scheduling every minute, cutting small talk, automating chores, avoiding anything that doesn’t benefit them.
At first, it seems to work — they get more done. But soon, their world turns miserable. People stop laughing. They stop helping each other. They do everything they can to “save time” – but somehow feel they have less time than ever.
Sounds like a critique of modern productivity culture, right?
The book is Momo — written in 1973.
I know what you are thinking: what the hell does that have to do with apps?
Well, every app installation begins with a promise of convenience — of saving time, effort, or friction. And that’s fine, even good. But maybe we should remind ourselves of that promise more often, because most apps end up breaking it in the long run — quietly stealing our time instead of saving it.
We Are Not Totally Fucked
We can’t — and shouldn’t — get rid of apps. But we should take control back into our own hands. Most of it comes down to small, deliberate choices — the kind that make technology feel like a tool again instead of a trap.
Start by asking yourself a few questions:
- Does this really need to be an app, or can I just use it in a browser? How often do I really use this — is it worth keeping on my phone?
- Do I need to see all notifications, or should I just turn them off? (You can easily do this in the app’s settings or on your phone.)
- Do I have two apps that basically do the same thing? Could I just get rid of one of them?
- Is this a phone activity or a laptop activity? Do I really want a business having access to me all day — even in my most vulnerable moments?
Smartphones aren’t the problem — it’s the apps that misuse them. The right ones can add real value without stealing your focus.
I use services like YouTube, Instagram, and Reddit only in the browser, so I’m less tempted to open them mindlessly (that extra loading time helps me reflect on what the hell I’m actually doing).
Meanwhile, apps like Chess, Books, Maps, and Urban Sports bring real value to my day — without a single notification.
Shopping, booking flights, hotels — I only do those on my laptop. When a trip comes up, I download the airline app, check in, board, and delete it after the trip. Simple.
And I’ll admit — Duolingo still reminds me about my streak every day. They’ve really nailed the exact number of owl tears to keep me coming back.
Then again, it’s not about doing everything perfectly — it’s about making steady progress at your own pace. Opting out of the “app for everything” mindset is about building systems that serve you instead of exploiting you.
Maybe that means deleting a few apps. Maybe it means silencing a few notifications. Maybe it just means paying more attention.
