Resistance Isn't Futile: The Case for a Little More Friction.

We live in a world obsessed with the frictionless experience. One-click purchases, swipe-right romance, meals conjured to our doorstep by the algorithmic gods of delivery apps. We've streamlined our lives to the point of boredom, smoothing out every wrinkle until we're left with a flat, featureless landscape of easy.

But what if we're doing it all wrong?

I'm standing in my new apartment. Well new to us, anyway. Amongst the pieces of well crafted, but moderately priced furniture are the seemingly ubiquitous IKEA products. More than one Kallax bookcase, hacked with milled legs ordered from Amazon. The bomb shelter that is a requirement in all new homes built after 1997, is now a walk-in closet thanks to the IKEA Pax system, each a testament to hours spent deciphering pictographic instructions and wielding an Allen wrench like a reluctant handyman. And you know what? I fucking love these pieces.

It's not the sleek Scandinavian design or the wallet-friendly price tag that's got me waxing poetic about flat-pack furniture. It's the sweat equity. The cursing. The triumph of finally sliding that last drawer into place. It's the friction, baby.

We live in a world obsessed with smoothing out life's rough edges. In our relentless pursuit of convenience, are we short changing ourselves out of something essential: the satisfaction that comes from putting in the work?

Take my recent camera decision. I traded in a veritable arsenal of high-tech gear – enough lenses to make a cinematographer blush – for a simple, fixed-lens Fujifilm X100F, which isn’t even in production anymore. It's a step back in terms of versatility, sure. But every time I raise that viewfinder to my eye, I feel something I never got from my previous setup, let alone my iPhone: intention.

Now, let's be clear. I'm not some Luddite railing against the march of progress. My iPhone is still in my pocket, ready to take a photo of my wife eating a fish in 4K. But when I choose to bring my Fujifilm, when I take the time to consider my composition, to work within the constraints of a fixed lens – that's when photography becomes more than just taking pictures. It becomes an act of mindfulness, a deliberate engagement with the world around me. It requires more effort, but it also increases the value of the experience, and my association of that experience with the brand.

This isn't just about cameras or furniture. It's about the broader question of what we lose when we remove all obstacles from our path.

I listen to vinyl records, which have been making a comeback. It is easier to just connect my Spotify to my HomePod and stream away. But it's the ritual, the effort, the intention – that gentle lowering of the needle, the act of flipping the record midway through, of listening to the music and the inevitable sound of a record ending. It's the friction that makes the experience more meaningful.

But here's where it gets really interesting: this friction, this effort we're talking about? It's not just making things more satisfying in the moment. It's literally etching these experiences into our brains, creating memories that add to the value of the experience.

In a world obsessed with smoothing out every wrinkle, we've even managed to engineer the "frictionless" condom. Because apparently, what everyone really wants during their most intimate moments is the sensation of... nothing at all?

Memories Forged in Friction

These moments stick with us precisely because they weren't easy. The effort, the frustration, the eventual triumph – it all combines to create a story worth telling, a memory worth keeping. And here's the kicker: these hard-earned memories? They're the ones we value most. They become the stories we tell at dinner parties, the experiences that shape our sense of self. In a world where experiences are increasingly commodified, sold to us in pre-packaged, Instagram-ready bundles, there's something rebellious, something genuinely valuable, about embracing the imperfect, the difficult, the friction-full.

There's a Japanese concept called "wabi-sabi" that celebrates the beauty of imperfection and impermanence. Maybe what we need is a similar appreciation for the beauty of effort, the value of earned experiences. A wabi-sabi for more friction in our daily lives.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting we all start churning our own butter. But maybe we could benefit from selectively reintroducing some friction into our lives. Choose the path with a few more bumps. Embrace the challenge. Revel in the effort.

I am not an online shopper. I rarely order a product online that I haven’t show-roomed, or at the least tried on. ?Even today, as I write this, I am planning on walking to a nearby sneaker shop to buy a pair of white low Chucks. (I still have my black HighTops. The punk rock in me requires that.) Would it be easier to just send Jeff an email and have Amazon send them to me? Yes, but I want the experience of the purchase. The friction of the event makes it even more satisfying to me, trying them on one more time, the words “Yep. I’ll take them, please” and then carrying them home.

Maybe the race to a frictionless society is a significant cause of climate change or economic hardships? The ease of acquisition has turned us into toddlers with credit cards, grabbing at every shiny object that catches our eye. "Buy now, think later" isn't just a marketing slogan – it's become our collective mantra.

Because here's the thing: when everything is too easy, nothing feels truly satisfying. It's the resistance that gives life its texture, that makes our achievements feel earned. In a world that's increasingly frictionless, a little intentional difficulty might be exactly what we need.

Effort boosts the value of the pursuit. Research has found that cognitive effort boosts our brain's responsiveness to rewards. This has been called The IKEA Effect.

Friction as Strategy: Your Next Big Move

What if your next big strategy isn't about eliminating friction, but strategically introducing it? What if that little bit of consumer effort could transform into a mountain of appreciation for your brand?

That is where I can help. Together, we can find those sweet spots where a little resistance yields a whole lot of value. Where effort breeds loyalty, challenge creates advocates, and thoughtful friction transforms transactions into relationships. Get a hold of me.

Ready to stand out in a frictionless world? Let's talk. Because in a marketplace of smooth sailing, sometimes the most rewarding journeys are the ones with a few waves to navigate.

Now I need to go try on that pair of Chucks, that I already know I am going to love, and are going to fit. That I already know I am going to buy. Not because I love the smell of new shoes, which I do, but because I know that this extra effort continues to add to my experience with the brand, and the memories that I have made with these simple shoes since 1970.