Oh there’s an app for that?

Somewhere along the line, life turned into a damn checklist.

I swear, it used to be simple. You walked into a place, bought your thing, left. That was it. No ceremony. No circus. No "member rewards." No points. No endless screens.

Now? Every single thing has an app. A login. A confirmation code. A loyalty program. A "special offer just for you." Jesus H. Christ—I just want a coffee, not a digital scavenger hunt.

Buy a coffee? "Download our app! Earn points! Exclusive offers!" Buddy, I just want caffeine. I don’t need a relationship with you. I’m not looking for a second job as your brand ambassador. Just hand me the damn cup.

Pay a bill? Oh sure, but first: make an account, create a password (one uppercase, one lowercase, one number, one special character, no repeats, can’t match any of your last 37 passwords). Verify your email. Check your spam folder because the code didn’t show up. Re-send the code. Enter it. Get told it expired. Start over. And by then—you know what? Maybe they can come shut the lights off. I’m too damn tired.

Watch a movie? Three streaming services. Four passwords. Five reminders that I’m on the "Basic Plus Ultra Gold Platinum Elite Premium" plan, whatever the hell that means. Scroll through 800 options. Spend 20 minutes trying to remember what movie I wanted to watch in the first place. By the time the movie starts, I’m asleep on the couch, remote still in hand.

Order food? Oh boy. Same dance. Pick a place, download another app, create another account, verify another email, enter another card. Agree to another "terms of service" that nobody on this planet has ever read. And if you’re lucky, 45 minutes later, cold fries show up on your doorstep.

It’s not that I hate technology. I don’t. Hell, I use it plenty. I’m writing this on a computer, aren’t I? But the friction... the friction is everywhere. Death by a thousand little clicks. Passwords and pop-ups and verifications and loyalty points and endless gamified checkout screens that turn every purchase into a miniature endurance test.

They say it’s all for convenience. Yeah? Convenient for who? Because it sure as hell isn’t me. It’s for the corporations tracking me six ways from Sunday, that’s who. I’m just trying to buy a sandwich, not sign a damn EULA and consent to being marketed to for the rest of my natural life.

And don’t give me the "you’re just old" line. Bullshit. I’m not anti-change. I’m anti-complication. There’s a difference. I’ll take real progress all day long—but this? This is noise. This is clutter. This is digital junk baked into every corner of daily life.

Life didn’t used to be this exhausting. Now it’s like we’re all unpaid interns in some giant data-entry firm, clicking and tapping our way through every little moment. Constantly updating apps, re-setting passwords, clearing cookies, verifying devices. It never ends.

Even at the grocery store. Swipe your card? No, enter your phone number. Want a receipt? Email or print. Want to join our rewards program? No. No, I do not. I want to buy bread and go home.

You know what I want? I want to hand over five bucks and get a cup of coffee. No app. No points. No email confirmation. No "special offer just for me." Just coffee. Simple. Done. Transaction over. Human scale. The way it used to be.

And God help me, if they start putting QR codes on the coffee cup itself so I can "scan for bonus content," I’m going to lose what’s left of my damn mind.

But hey, what do I know? I’m just some guy ranting on the internet. But I’ll tell you this—next time they ask me to download another damn app for a sandwich, I might just walk out instead. And that, my friends, might be the sanest thing I do all week.

Maybe the only thing.