The cult of efficiency has tricked us into believing that anything less than perfect automation is a problem to be solved, not a feature to be embraced.
We obsess over removing every wrinkle, streamlining every process, creating experiences so smooth they might as well be frictionless ice. We chase the ideal of the "seamless" — a word so ubiquitous it’s lost all meaning, a bland promise of utter predictability. But predictable doesn't always mean powerful. Sometimes, it just means boring.
This relentless pursuit of the flawless leaves a vast, empty space. A space where genuine character used to live.
Think about 'dougie.' What does 'dougie' evoke for you? Probably not a cold, optimized machine. It’s got a rhythm, a bit of a swagger. It’s distinctly human. It’s got personality.
And yet, I see so many trying to sand down the edges of their 'dougie,' to make it fit into some pre-approved, venture-capital-friendly box. They want it to scale before it even knows how to walk. They want it to be an interchangeable cog in a larger, supposedly perfect, system.
That's a mistake. A big one.
The real power of something unique, something like 'dougie,' isn't its ability to disappear into the background. It's its ability to stand out. It's the quirky detail, the unexpected turn, the slight deviation from the norm that makes you lean in.
We've become so conditioned to expect the impersonal that anything showing a flicker of real humanity feels revolutionary. It feels trustworthy. It feels authentic.
When you try to scrub all the specific, slightly messy, utterly human elements out of your 'dougie,' you aren't making it better. You’re making it bland. You’re making it forgettable. You’re making it indistinguishable from everything else that’s desperately trying to be 'perfect' and 'seamless.'
Nobody falls in love with a perfectly functioning spreadsheet. They fall in love with the story behind it. The person who built it. The unexpected result it produced.
So, when you’re thinking about your own 'dougie' – whatever form it takes for you – stop trying to iron out every perceived flaw. Stop trying to fit it into a mold. Give it room to breathe. Give it a distinct voice. Give it a few rough edges.
Those imperfections? They aren't weaknesses. They’re the very things that make it real. They’re the parts that will actually connect with people. Because people aren't perfect either. And they recognize themselves in something that isn't afraid to be. They recognize a bit of dougie in it.