Interacting with the Everyday: Why I’m Selective on My Social Media App Choices
Social media: it’s an instinctive grab that has conquered the everyday routine of billions globally. It’s as habitual to some as drinking water, and that’s the grip that technology has on so many of us. After all, users are spending nearly 2.5 hours a day on social media, according to Simon Kemp at HootSuite, “…the largest single share of our connected media time, at 35% of the total.”
(Why, yes, I will be using Schitt’s Creek gifs to express my feelings in this post).
I’m certainly no exception. I wake up most days to scroll for the latest news on Twitter. Sometimes TikTok is my equivalent of the morning news, comfortably seated in the palm of my hand, as I sip my coffee. My curated Instagram feed may have some words of affirmation or at least a cute animal to make things feel relatively okay. The apps fit relatively comfortably into my routine.
And then there’s ones that I have but don’t particularly use. Facebook exists so that I can signal to relatives that I am in fact still alive, despite never posting except with a linked Instagram photo. Snapchat is a little less than my style, and when I last used it, I longed for more privacy. And Pinterest lingers in the background, waiting for my next great baking adventure that generally rolls around monthly-ish.
So how do some of these apps become habits versus nice-to-haves? Well, it comes from a professional habit I have been unable to turn off since 2018: spotting UX quality.
For me, it’s all about the interaction and UI. Yes, I’ve deleted the Facebook app off my phone because the UX/aesthetic does not work for me anymore. I can’t find what I want, the UI is difficult to read due to the color palette, the prioritization of features doesn’t match my desires… and so on.
Ever since I became a designer years ago, I’ve slowly found the number of social apps I use dwindling and it’s 9 times out of 10 because I’ve become frustrated as an end user with the interactions and design paths. I’m still annoyed that the “likes” button on Instagram was moved in lieu of the shopping button - and I’ve never bought a product on the app. Reels? I don’t need that when I continue to find the best videos on TikTok. New post? Tucked in the upper right, far from my short thumb stretch.
Lucky for Instagram, I’m a little hooked on finding beautiful fan art or keeping up with my best friends’ cat. And the whole positive feeling of getting “likes” still psychologically gets me.
On the other side, Twitter, continues to be the darling of all apps I adore. The floating “new tweet” button is perfectly positioned - which is great because I have way too many thoughts that I just HAVE to get out. Search is right there as my #2 most common action because I have multiple tags I track for geek news or even prioritized content. Same goes for notifications and so on. It’s clean, crisp, and the flows match every possible path I’d want to go on from the jump. That’s exactly why I find myself back multiple times a day (along with endlessly refresh-able feed).
It’s this sort of thinking that I lend to my own design work. I consider what interactions I’m aiming to have users take, how seamless can I make it, and where can I reward my users? It takes iteration and research to pinpoint the exact flows that make a user’s journey delightful and one they’d return to, but ultimately, it’s about satisfaction: did I get to do what I came here to do? And can I do it again, but faster as I get more familiar?
Sure, I don’t expect to design the next app that everyone opens first thing in the morning every day. But what if I want someone to go to the same place to find the different doctors they need for their overall health? What about their go-to site for new media? Or where to check the balance of their credit card? Any of these experiences (especially the kind that can promote health, wellness, success) should be positive and most importantly, rewarding.
Mindfulness of the apps I choose daily, as well as what I specifically find to be so desirable to return, is the best practice to stretch my skills as a researcher and empathy as a designer.