The presenter, Sarah, is showing us how to submit an expense report using Project Fusion, the new enterprise resource planning system that cost us $777,000 upfront. She’s bright, she’s patient, and she is trying to sell us on the beauty of a workflow that requires seventeen distinct clicks before the PDF receipt is uploaded and routed to approval level 2.

This is the core tragedy of modern business technology. We are consistently sold complexity wrapped in a veneer of sophistication. The people who sign the seven-figure check-the leadership obsessed with robust reporting, regulatory compliance (Sarbanes-Oxley mandates 77 audit trails, after all), and future-proofing-are fundamentally disconnected from the people who have to actually use the product every single day. The system is perfectly optimized for the sales demo and the audit report, and completely useless for the human being trying to complete a legitimate task quickly so they can get back to their real job.

The Sales Lure of Visibility

I should know. I bought one of these monstrosities. I criticize them relentlessly-the bloated interfaces, the forced, non-linear workflows, the sheer insult of taking 17 clicks to do a two-click task. I tell everyone that modern software is designed to manage incompetence rather than enable productivity. And yet, three years ago, I signed off on the massive CRM upgrade. Why? Because the salesperson showed me the dashboard that aggregated the sales pipeline across 47 different territories and promised me 1,777 configuration options that would allow us to be ‘nimble.’ I criticized the whole model, then succumbed to the shiny data visualization.

It’s a specific kind of organizational dissonance, isn’t it? The decision-makers value control and visibility above all else. They want the data stream, the ironclad proof of compliance, and the ability to run a report on ‘average time to approval for requisitions under $237.’ They don’t experience the pain. They don’t spend 47 minutes wrestling with dropdown menus that reset every time you sneeze. They don’t have to deal with the inevitable, spiraling support ticket system where the answer is always, “That function requires permissions Level 7, which you need to request through Module A, but only after completing the mandatory five-hour training in Module B.”

Taylor’s Story: Compliance Over Safety

I saw this same dynamic play out with Taylor K.-H., a playground safety inspector I met once. Her job is literal life-and-death safety-checking bolts, measuring fall zones, ensuring surfaces meet minimum standards. Her previous system was simple: a clipboard and a camera. Effective, direct. Her new system? A mandatory tablet application that requires a constant internet connection (even in remote parks), 7 layers of authentication, and forces her to input ‘projected future repair costs’ on a 7-foot-slide that only needs a hinge replacement. It takes her twice as long to document the inspection as it does to perform it.

If you want to understand what good user experience actually looks like, you don’t look at enterprise software. You look at things that have to handle complex logistics while remaining totally invisible to the end-user. Think about high-end logistics providers. They manage complex routes, multiple stakeholders, real-time adjustments, and regulatory compliance without ever making the client feel the weight of that complexity.

The Goal: Zero Visible Friction

Consider, for example, the task of moving a sensitive client from Denver to Aspen during a snowstorm. That involves weather tracking, road condition monitoring, specialized vehicle selection, highly trained drivers, and contingency planning for 7 possible detours. The client doesn’t see the 77 steps involved in the background; they just experience a smooth, safe, seamless trip. They paid for the experience of frictionless travel, and the provider delivers. The goal isn’t 1,777 configuration options; the goal is zero visible friction. Companies like

Mayflower Limo understand that the true value is masking the difficulty.

Why can’t our internal systems achieve that? The excuse is always compliance. But that’s a cheap cop-out. The real reason is that the incentive structure is broken. Software is sold on feature density, not functional elegance. It’s bought by people who need to manage risk, not by people who need to be productive. And because the vendor knows the user has no purchasing power, the user experience becomes an afterthought, a frustrating landscape of nested menus and arbitrary access controls.

The Battleship Mistake

I made a mistake, too. I thought I could configure the complexity away. I told myself, ‘We will just use 7 of the 1,777 configuration options, and ignore the rest.’ That’s like buying a battleship to cross a puddle and saying, ‘We’ll just use the paddleboats.’ The complexity is baked into the operating logic. It slows down the entire system, requiring heavier hardware, slower load times, and forcing every update to be a traumatic organizational event.

We need to stop accepting that friction is the price of doing business. The real cost of these systems isn’t the $777,000 we spent on the license; it’s the $47 million we lose in lost productivity, employee frustration, and the inevitable return to shadow IT-the spreadsheets, the Post-its, the whispered emails-because people need to actually get things done without fighting a digital war against their own tools. This is the great betrayal of efficiency.

The Call for Respect

I’ve tried the fix-it approach. I’ve tried forming user groups, submitting tickets, and creating internal cheat sheets that simplify the 17-click process down to 4 steps (though it still takes 7 minutes). It helps marginally. But the fundamental problem remains: the architecture is hostile to human intuition. It’s hostile because it was designed for the spreadsheet, not the soul.

This isn’t just about software; it’s about respect. When we mandate the use of tools that actively hinder work, we signal that we value auditability over human effort. We prioritize the aesthetic cleanliness of the corporate ledger over the sanity of the people generating the revenue.

We are paying a premium to make our jobs worse. We are paying the vendor, the consultant, the trainer, and eventually, the therapist. Until the people who use the software are given purchasing authority-or at least, veto power-we will continue to drown in systems optimized for the view from the executive suite, not the view from the trenches. The spreadsheet is the silent protest against Project Fusion, and until the friction is lower than the cost of resistance, we will all keep clicking 17 times.