Look, Spinner, we’ve been by way of so much collectively…
I do know you’re attempting your greatest—endlessly twirling, patiently filling the void, bravely masking backend chaos like some overworked stagehand in a failing theater manufacturing.
However we each comprehend it’s not working anymore.
At first, you had been comforting. An emblem of one thing taking place. Progress. Hope. A bit wheel that stated, “Maintain on, buddy. Solutions are coming.” However now? Now you’re simply… spinning. Without end. And customers are catching on. They know your sport. They know “loading” is code for “we do not know what’s damaged.”
Let’s be sincere: you’ve grow to be the digital equal of elevator music in a hearth drill.
And whilst you had been busy twirling your coronary heart out, progress bars confirmed up—calm, structured, sincere. Skeleton screens entered the chat with precise content material placeholders, whispering “quickly.” In the meantime, you’re nonetheless within the nook doing interpretive dance and hoping no person asks questions.
You’re not fooling anybody anymore. Customers faucet reload. They bounce. They spiral into existential dread whereas watching youspiral. That’s not UX—that’s Stockholm syndrome with a loading icon.
So right here’s the deal. Both you evolve—possibly present precise suggestions, get sooner, give context—or we’re going to have to exchange you with one thing that doesn’t induce panic.
It’s not you. It’s the very fact you by no means end something.
Yours in lag,
A UX designer attempting to delay the consumer’s inevitable rage-quit
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