The Tyranny of the New
“Good enough” is better than impressive
The other day, I watched one of my kids (who is fifteen) try to put a Super Nintendo Entertainment System (SNES) cartridge into my aging console. They're a digital native, so they're used to a completely different user experience. There's no "eject" button on an iPhone app. There's no physical media to slide into a slot. They held the cartridge, turning it over and over like a curious archaeologist trying to figure out a tool from a lost civilization.
I didn't help them. I just watched. I wanted to see how they would figure it out. They finally got it, and the game (a copy of the original Super Mario World) started to play. They watched it start running on a screen that was a fraction of the size of the TV we have in the living room, in a resolution that was a fraction of what they're used to. And yet, they didn't care. The story was what mattered.
That moment got me thinking about how we interact with technology today. We're so focused on the resolution, the speed, the latest features, that we often forget about the experience itself. We build products that are technically perfect but emotionally cold. We optimize for efficiency, not for joy. We create things that are fast but not memorable.
In the tech world, we're obsessed with what's new. New frameworks, new programming languages, new platforms. There's a constant pressure to be on the "bleeding edge," to be the first to adopt the latest and greatest. But what if we're wrong? What if the best technology isn't the newest, but the most human?
I've spent a lot of time in the weeds of infrastructure, the very guts of technology. I’ve worked on servers, networks, and databases. I've seen firsthand how fragile and complex these systems can be. But the truth is, the user doesn't care about any of that. They don't care about what database you're using or what programming language your app is written in. They care about whether it works and whether it helps them do what they need to do.
This is where empathy comes in. Empathy is the ability to put yourself in the user's shoes. It's about understanding their needs, their frustrations, and their joys. It's about building technology that serves them, not the other way around.
So, how do we do that? We can start by:
Building for the human, not the spec. Instead of focusing on a list of features, let's focus on the user's journey. What problem are we solving for them? How will they feel when they use our product?
Embracing the "good enough." Not every piece of technology needs to be a marvel of engineering. Sometimes, a simple, reliable solution is better than a complex, cutting-edge one. My kid didn't need 4K resolution to enjoy Super Mario World.
Listening to our users. We have to talk to them, watch them, and understand them. We have to go beyond the data and listen to the stories. This is how we find out what people truly need.
My kid's experience with the SNES was a reminder that technology isn't just about what's possible; it's about what's meaningful. The best technology, whether it's a Super Nintendo from 1990 or an app from 2025, is the one that connects with us on a human level. It's the one that tells a story.