In praise of friction
“Tap a button, get a ride.” We repeated it like a mantra in the early days at Uber. Every metric we obsessed over was in service of that sentence: cancellation rates, two-minute ETAs, requests-to-completed-trips. On promo days, you could tap the button and get kittens. It felt like magic, which was the point. And like all magic, it required an enormous amount of unglamorous labor arranged just…
In the early days of Uber, the mantra "Tap a button, get a ride" echoed throughout the company. Every metric was designed to support that simple phrase: cancellation rates, two-minute ETAs, and requests-to-completed-trips. It felt like magic, but behind the scenes, countless hands worked tirelessly to ensure each car arrived promptly.
This attention to detail extended beyond transportation to other aspects of life, like ordering dinner, where every detail had to be perfect. Uber Eats, in particular, became a masterclass in managing pickup times, alert systems, and productivity targets, all aimed at delivering a seamless experience.
However, the relentless pursuit of efficiency and convenience began to feel overwhelming. The speaker, who had been instrumental in building this frictionless world, realized that the constant drive to eliminate every inconvenience came at a cost. A friend encouraged the speaker to step away and experience something "friction-filled." That's when the speaker decided to join a classic car rally, a stark contrast to the digital world they had spent years perfecting.
The rally was a whirlwind of simplicity and spontaneity. No GPS, only the road ahead; older cars, often breaking down, and a shared sense of adventure among like-minded individuals. It was a week of driving, bonding, and enjoying the freedom of the open road, unburdened by the constant ping of a digital notification. The rally highlighted the stark contrast between the frictionless world of modern technology and the raw, unfiltered experience of taking a break from it.
The speaker found immense joy in these unplanned moments, realizing that the convenience they had built was now a luxury, accessible only to those who could afford it. As technology continues to strip away friction, the speaker felt that something essential was being lost – the ability to think, to create, and to enjoy life's simple pleasures without the constant buzz of digital notifications.
This experience marked a turning point for the speaker, leading them to opt out of the constant connectivity and instead focus on the slower, more deliberate pace of writing a novel. There, in the solitude of crafting sentences, the speaker found a profound sense of fulfillment, far removed from the pressures of the digital world.
Written by urgent.news from Fast Company's reporting — not their text. Machine-written — may contain errors; check the original before relying on it.
