This is probably one of the more esoteric posts on my blog — I’m usually very technical and rational. But with the rise of “vibe coding” and the growing trend of people using AI to generate entire applications, I feel the need to share something more personal.
I’m not trying to channel Jony Ive here, but I do think there’s a fundamental truth buried beneath all the marketing buzzwords: people can sense care — and carelessness — in the things we build.
Even without deep knowledge of UX design, people have a kind of bullshit detector. They might not be able to explain why something feels clunky or soulless, but they feel it. Some choose not to care, which is valid. But even those folks would probably agree that companies like PayPal, for example, aren’t exactly known for their user empathy — more for relentless A/B testing and KPI-chasing.
That mindset feels incredibly shortsighted.
When I bought my first Mac, it was the first time a piece of tech made me feel seen as a customer. It was the opposite of what I’d experienced with Windows at the time. There, even when things worked, they often felt purely functional — built to check a box, not to create an experience. The final 5% — the polish, the delight — was missing. (Though let’s be honest, even Apple seems to be slipping lately. Looking at you, System Preferences.)
People feel it when we, as developers, take time to consider their use cases — to make our apps more intuitive, efficient, and yes, even fun. Even when it doesn’t directly move the needle on subscriptions or quarterly goals.
As developers, we often don’t define the high-level product strategy, but we have enormous influence on how a product feels. For a web developer like me, it might come down to how a form handles errors — whether it resets or not under certain conditions. Or trimming down unnecessary JavaScript so that someone, rushing to a dinner reservation, can quickly submit a form without fighting a bloated UI.
These details matter. They’re the difference between software that treats people like obstacles and software that treats them like humans with busy, stressful lives.
So where am I going with this?
I use LLMs to generate code too. I get it — they’re incredibly helpful for automating repetitive tasks and accelerating development. But the idea of companies replacing entire dev teams with AI, or trying to generate complete apps with a prompt? That feels wildly out of touch. The scary part is: they might still hit their KPIs.
What those KPIs won’t measure is care.
The decisions we make as developers aren’t just based on technical knowledge — which an LLM can mimic — but on human experience. On knowing what it’s like to be in a hurry, frustrated, or distracted. It’s formatting a phone number in readable chunks so someone can jot it down easily. It’s designing for people — and only people can do that meaningfully.
As a developer, I love when I can feel that a product values me not just as a user, but as a person. And I hold myself to that same standard when building for others.
Especially in a world that’s growing increasingly fragmented, I think this kind of human element is something we desperately need.