After using a certain app for a while, I realized its most terrifying trait isn't its price—it's the constant, stealthy interface changes. A button that was right there yesterday vanishes today. Menus migrate, buttons are renamed, and hierarchies are reshuffled. I sit before the screen like someone who has suddenly developed amnesia.

The absurdity peaks when I ask AI to help debug, only for the AI to be equally bewildered. It can’t keep up with where the latest features have been hidden either. So, the AI and I get lost together. One doesn't know where we are, and the other doesn't know what time it is. Many tasks that should take seconds are stalled not by technical difficulty, but by the frantic search for a specific submenu.

Then comes the punchline. After struggling all day and trying every workaround, I discover the problem isn't my incompetence: that formerly free feature has been quietly repackaged into a paid tier.

This is the modern software playbook for monetization. It evolves from a one-time purchase to a yearly subscription, then to a monthly fee, and finally, it’s dismantled into fragments to be sold back to you piece by piece. They don’t tell you it costs money upfront; they let you use it for free, let you build a habit, let you rely on it, like a frog in slowly heating water. Once that workflow becomes part of your daily rhythm, the "given" suddenly disappears.

Please pay to buy your habit back!

I stand there contemplating: do I pay up, or do I waste another day finding a more painful way to redo it? I feel like a stubborn old driver who refuses to pay a toll, choosing instead to spend an extra hour navigating detours and traffic lights. Usually, I compromise and pay. After all, time is money. But the problem is, it’s never a one-time fix. It’s a bottomless pit.

Every time I want to try a new function, a limit is "coincidentally" set; every time I adapt to a method, the door is "coincidentally" shut. This is a precise commercial logic designed by data-driven masterminds behind the scenes.

The worst part? It’s genuinely good. As long as you pay, it’s the smoothest, most beautiful, and most efficient tool in the world. It’s so good that there’s no immediate replacement. So, I grumble while swiping my card; I’m frustrated, yet I continue to use it.

When I finally did the math, I realized the subscription fees I pay just to keep my "digital world running normally" have piled up. It no longer feels like a set of tools; it feels like an endless row of invisible rent. We aren't just using software; we are living in a world where every habit carries a monthly fee.

What’s truly frustrating isn't the money, but the rhythm of being pushed forward by emotions, efficiency, and the phrase "I’m already used to it." I know I’m being played, yet I can’t leave not yet.

I don’t truly hate the apps. I hate how this era is so skilled at turning "habits" into "financial obligations." And we keep paying the bill, just to maintain the lifestyle they’ve shaped for us.



—— XC Scribbles · 玖拾壹 XCI 🐸💸