By Marc Pickren, CEO, Springbot, Inc.
I wake up each morning with a simple wish: to exist online without being held at gunpoint by pop-ups, labyrinthine sales funnels, and the cursed demon spawn that is two-factor authentication (2FA). Yet, as I sip my coffee and open my laptop, I am immediately assaulted by the internet’s ongoing psychological warfare—a relentless barrage of desperate marketing tactics and security measures designed to break even the most seasoned digital survivor.
I click on a seemingly harmless article about productivity tips. BAM. Before I can even read the first sentence, a pop-up lunges at me like an overeager cult recruiter.
“WAIT! Before you go! Download our FREE eBook on How to Be 400% More Efficient at Avoiding Pop-Ups!”
No. I don’t want your damn eBook. I don’t want your newsletter. I don’t want to "Unlock Exclusive Content" because I know damn well that exclusive content means five more pop-ups and an email sequence that will haunt me for the next six months like a debt collector from hell.
And the "No, I hate success" guilt buttons? Are you kidding me? I already feel like a failure most days—I don’t need my refusal to join your list framed as a personal shortcoming.
Then there’s the marketing funnel. Oh, the funnel. What once was a mere purchasing journey has now become an intricate, multi-step psychological experiment designed to wear me down like a hostage negotiator.
Before I know it, I’m the proud owner of a dropshipping course, and I don’t even know what dropshipping is.
If pop-ups are the obnoxious greeters of the internet and funnels are its overly aggressive sales team, 2FA is the surly nightclub bouncer who never remembers my face.
I try to log into my bank account. “We’ve sent a six-digit code to your email.”
I check my email. No code.
I refresh. Still no code.
Five minutes later—ding! I enter the code. "Session expired."
I start over. This time, it wants to verify via SMS.
No problem, except I’m in an underground parking garage where signal strength is just a theory.
I run outside like I’m trying to catch a last-minute flight.
The code arrives.
I enter it.
“We’ve detected suspicious activity. Please verify again.”
I’m about to commit a cybercrime just out of spite.
Ah, the subscription model—what was once a convenience is now a Kafkaesque nightmare. I want to cancel a streaming service, but they’ve hidden the “Cancel” button like a national secret.
I am exhausted. All I wanted was to read an article, buy a product, log in, and maybe cancel a subscription like a normal human being. Instead, I’ve been emotionally manipulated, upsold into financial ruin, and forced to verify my own existence multiple times.
Maybe the real internet was the friends we made along the way. Or maybe it’s a dystopian hellscape ruled by algorithms and conversion rate optimizations. Either way, I need a drink.
Until then, I’ll be here—fumbling through another 2FA prompt, trapped in a funnel, and politely declining pop-ups like it’s my full-time job.