Confidence is the New Delight: Why “Delight” is Overrated
TL;DR: Tools that “come easily to hand” disappear into their work while today's apps demand our constant attention. This piece explores how “customer delight” originated in Taiichi Ohno's worker empowerment vision but has often devolved into today's manipulative design patterns. Is it time to reclaim “delight”? What if software empowered us like a master craftsperson's tools? What if apps faded into transparency, letting us experience not the shallow ping of notifications, but the deep satisfaction of creation and genuine accomplishment?
Edmund placed the pine timber on the sawhorses with a dull thunk. He tested the plane's sharpness against his thumb and drew it along the work piece. Each stroke created graceful curls that dropped softly to the workshop floor, filling the room with the pungent aroma of pine. He ran his hand along the silky-smooth surface he'd created, and smiled – not at the plane, but at what he'd accomplished with it.
Today's software rarely allows for such un-self-conscious mastery. Apps refuse to stay quietly in the background. They demand attention, interrupt our flow, and insist we acknowledge their presence. Apps beg for five-star ratings and an explanation for choosing anything less.
This isn't accidental – it's by design. Like casino architects who eliminate clocks and windows to disorient visitors, app designers employ infinite scrolling, auto-play, and other features to blur time and keep us engaged. Our phones buzz with notifications, each promising something urgent or exciting. Social media feeds learn our triggers – outrage, anxiety, FOMO – and serve them up in an endless stream. Even our private conversations seem to transform into targeted ads within minutes.
We've moved far from tools that empower us to tools that manipulate us. And somewhere along the way, we began measuring success not by what users achieve, but by how long we can keep them scrolling, clicking, and reacting.
Imagine software that, like a well-balanced tool, becomes an extension of your intent. When you're writing, your thoughts flow directly onto the page without distracting elements competing for your focus. When you're working with data, insights emerge naturally without having to navigate through layers of menus and options. When you're creating, your tools enhance your vision instead of imposing their own.
This is what it means for software to 'come easily to hand.' Not that it's merely simple to use, but that it becomes virtually transparent, leaving users free to experience the satisfaction of mastery, the joy of creation, the pride of accomplishment. Like a well-worn tool in a craftsperson's hand, such software disappears into the work itself, leaving only the pure connection between creator and creation.
The concept of delighting the customer wasn't always about artificially stoking moments of artificial pleasure. It originated in Japan's kaizen philosophy, where Toyota's Taiichi Ohno envisioned every worker as a potential innovator. “Workers are not just pairs of hands, he insisted, but knowledge workers who accumulate wisdom through experience.” This profound respect for human capability transformed not just manufacturing, but our very understanding of quality. Workers were empowered to think deeply about their impact on the end user, to take initiative, to improve their tools and processes. They were trusted to create value through their insight and creativity.
This philosophy, so resonant with the craftsman's approach, found fertile ground in the optimistic early days of personal computing. The pioneers of digital tools shared a vision of empowering users to create, to think, to achieve. But somewhere between those idealistic beginnings and today's attention economy we lost our way. We replaced genuine empowerment with superficial engagement, trading the deep satisfaction of achievement for the shallow ping of notifications.
We stand at a crossroads between tools that demand our attention and tools that extend our capabilities. The craftsman's wisdom reminds us that true delight flows not from the tool itself, but from what we create, discover, and achieve through its use. When we free ourselves from the clamor of artificial engagement, we can rediscover the quiet satisfaction of mastery, the deep pleasure of creation, the genuine pride of accomplishment.
This understanding, once gained, transforms how we see our digital world. It awakens us to choose tools that honor our creativity, respect our attention, and amplify our human capacity to create and achieve. In this light, we recognize that the best software, like the craftsman's plane, doesn't seek to delight us – it empowers us to delight in our own accomplishments.
Original thought drawing on my professional experience and insights. Written in collaboration with Claude AI (Anthropic), .