A working mother opens an e-commerce app to quickly order a set of school supplies for her child. The app’s homepage immediately highlights a “Back to School” section. Within three taps, she selects items, checks out, and completes the purchase. The process is smooth, intuitive, and stress-free. Now imagine a competing app that overwhelms her with pop-ups, flashy banners, and endless categories. She struggles to find the products she needs, loses patience, and abandons her cart.

A UX designer proudly unveils a beautifully minimal app prototype. The layout is clean, the navigation intuitive, and the user flow seamless. But in the next meeting, stakeholders demand additional call-to-actions, banner ads, and notifications. The designer’s vision of simplicity starts to crumble as business goals threaten to disrupt the design’s integrity.

A visually impaired user opens a popular food delivery app to order dinner. As the screen reader attempts to guide them, it stumbles over unlabeled buttons and meaningless labels. The app's cluttered design and poor accessibility features turn what should be a straightforward experience into a frustrating ordeal. Eventually, the user gives up, feeling excluded by a platform that fails to meet their needs.

Imagine logging into an app that knows you're training for a marathon. Instantly, it recommends the perfect pair of running shoes, anticipating your needs before you even ask. At first, it feels magical - AI is saving you time and effort. But as you continue using the app, it becomes clear that its recommendations are repetitive. It pushes running gear over and over, boxing you into a narrow identity as "the runner." You start to wonder: Is this all I am to the algorithm?