In Praise of Inconvenience: The Hidden Costs of a Convenient World

We're living in the convenience regime, an era where convenience reigns supreme.

From one-click purchases to AI-generated art, we've optimized away life's little frustrations, betting on our discontent with reality itself. But in our quest to make everything easier, could we accidentally be erasing what makes us human?

Shortcuts, especially digital shortcuts, are not just making tasks easier: they're fundamentally changing how we exist in the world. Trading real-world friction for digital ease often means losing our essential capacity for deep, embodied satisfaction.

The convenience regime sells us a peculiar bargain: “I'll free you from the messiness of human existence so you can focus on being yourself more.”

But aren't you the sum of the tasks you spend your time on? Isn't there something fundamentally human about wrestling some messy reality rather than just managing its digital alternative?

“Inconvenience” isn't just the relic of a pre-digital age: it's about the fundamental human need for challenge, discovery, and physical engagement with the world.

That's the convenience paradox: the more we optimize our lives, the less we actually live them.

We're becoming masters of arrangement rather than action, curators instead of creators. Our lives risk turning into a series of frictionless transactions where we're always efficiently arriving but never really traveling.

"Do everything by hand, even when using the computer."
– Miyazaki Hayao

We've optimized away discomfort, only to find that it was a secret ingredient.

In this limbo of superficial contentment, everything is easier but nothing feels earned. Some difficulty isn't a bug in the human experience–it's a feature.

This isn't about becoming neo-Luddites or romanticizing inefficiency. It's about recognizing that sometimes the slower way is the best way for you. It's about understanding that the richness of life also lies in its imperfections and challenges. And there are some practical ways to do it:

• Every so often, pick the “inefficient” choice—cooking from scratch, having that awkward face-to-face conversation, fixing something with your hands.
• Don't ask yourself “How can I make this easier?” but “What am I giving up when I choose the convenient path?” Our default choices aren't neutral—they're the most powerful monopolies we face.
• Next time you're faced with a choice between the automated and the mindful way, ask yourself: Which will make for a better memory and story?

The antidote to the convenience regime is to consciously choose when to embrace the friction that makes us human—what I call the art of deliberate friction-building.

If your life was just about reaching destinations as quickly as possible, you'd be in a coffin already.

That's why, in a world racing towards total automation, the most compassionate act towards yourself may occasionally be to pick the slower, harder path—blisters and all.