Sweet Inconveniences: a case for friction in the age of AI

Dearest community,

My partner and I’ve been together for nine years, and married for five. Still, at least once a day, we ask each other, “How much do you love me?”

I know, it’s ridiculous. It’s not that we need constant validation (or maybe we do), it has just become a silly daily ritual over the years.

We ask, then wait for the answer, which usually involves some distance from here to the moon times a billion.

Last week, I wanted him to get a little more creative.

“Describe it as an ice cream flavor!”

He chuckled, then paused with a rather serious look on his face. 

“You are like… the 99 pence ice cream I used to get on hot summer days from one of those ice cream trucks. I’d get money from my mum and run after the truck… and I’d get so happy taking the first bite out of the ice cream.”

He looked at me with a soft smile. “You’re like that ice cream to me.”

My jaw dropped. For a second, I was back in my own childhood—a teenage me sprinting with dollar bills in hand, my chest heaving with rushed breaths and excitement as I approached the truck surrounded by other kids. I could smell the sweat on my forehead and feel the cold of the popsicle pressed into my hand.

My partner and I grew up on opposite ends of the world, but apparently ice cream trucks were prolific across the globe.

What wasn't so prolific back then was our growing obsession with removing every bit of friction from our lives, including the kind that sends you chasing a truck for a sweet treat.

I don’t know about you, but I grew up in a time when owning a computer at home felt like a luxury. I didn’t have a smartphone until my first full-time job after college.

I’m grateful my childhood toys were dolls and dragonflies, and my teenage years were spent burning CDs and bedazzling my flip phone. They say millennials are the last generation to grow up without the internet. And for that, I feel both grateful and sad.

Researchers are beginning to document what many of us already feel: early studies suggest that mindlessly scrolling on social media and outsourcing our thinking to generative AI may be dulling our cognitive abilities and our capacity to tolerate meaningful friction. They’re urging people, especially young people in their peak developmental years, to intentionally introduce friction—writing the first draft without AI, struggling toward an answer before asking for one, reading longer texts rather than excerpts and summaries—to preserve and grow their critical thinking skills.

Social media, generative AI, and the pressure to survive by any means necessary are pushing us to trade off depth for speed, and rigor for convenience. But you know what else? They’re shortchanging us of core memories, too: calling friends without an agenda rather than texting, running after ice cream trucks rather than ordering on DoorDash, carpooling home together after a night out rather than calling an Uber individually, spending hours writing and rewriting essays and heartfelt letters rather than asking a chatbot to draft them.

It’s not that I’m romanticizing life before technology, or that I don't find these tools to be useful in my own life. But the sheer speed at which our society seems to be racing to automate away anything that requires a bit of effort makes me wonder if we’re, in fact, romanticizing a life without any meaningful friction, even the kind that gives our lives color, the kind that forces us to slow down.

Purposeful friction creates the openings for challenge, surprise, connection, and wonder. Every “inconvenience” we engineer out of our lives seems to also take our opportunities for connection with it: the customer service agent replaced by an AI agent, in-store browsing replaced by online shopping, casual meet-cutes replaced by dating apps, the late night heart-to-heart conversation with a friend replaced by a chatbot. 

To voluntarily seek out friction is to decide which human experiences are worth being inconvenienced for.

And that’s exactly the kind of decision I felt I made, alongside tens of others who signed up to be part of The AI Strategy Lab for Social Justice Advocates. Over four weeks, we introduced friction on purpose and grappled with complexity, nuance, and contradictions we live inside. Almost two-thirds of Americans say AI is advancing too quickly, and we chose to slow down, and to confront difficult but necessary questions, together.

We chose to struggle in community rather than shortcut to answers in isolation.

All of it felt purposeful. Hopeful, even.

With my heart full, I’m looking forward to facilitating the last cohort of the year this August. If you’ve been searching for a values-aligned community and a rigorous learning experience, I hope you’ll consider joining me.

My partner’s ice cream answer wasn’t the only sweet thing that happened that day.

That afternoon, on our drive to the grocery store, we heard a familiar sound that made us immediately look at each other wide-eyed.

Ice cream truck.

We couldn’t believe it. We’d never seen an ice cream truck in our neighborhood, let alone our city. Had the universe been eavesdropping on our sweet nothings?!

We pulled over and rummaged through our pockets for cash. We jumped out and got in line behind two little girls deep in deliberation. This new-age ice cream truck didn’t have the old-school Tweety Bird popsicle I used to covet, but the chocolate-dipped vanilla cone tasted just as sweet, just as precious.

And just like that, we’d made a new core memory of our own. One that cost us a fifteen-minute detour, a few crinkled bills, and the promise to eat less sugar. Which is to say, it cost us exactly what makes a memory.

Whether it’s springing up from your desk at the sound of an ice cream truck or staring at a blank page until your words arrive, I hope you allow yourself the gift of friction, of sweet inconveniences this week.

In community,

Michelle

Two cohorts completed the AI Strategy Lab for Social Justice Advocates Series in June! It was an incredible reminder of the power of community and the need for safe and courageous spaces where we can grow together. Thank you to every participant for making room for complexity, community, and courage!

1. Are these influencers even real?
AI-generated “influencer” profiles are on the rise on social media, and they’re making a ton of money. One report says there are around 150 “virtual influencers” currently on Instagram, with the most successful ones having millions of followers and charging over $20k per post. The market is expected to grow to $45.88 billion by 2030. Stanford Media Futures Lab found that 68% of teen respondents could not distinguish AI-generated influencers from real ones.

2. Trust no one, they said
Edelman’s 2026 Trust Barometer Report says 70% of people—globally—are unwilling or hesitant to trust someone who has different values, facts, problem-solving approaches, or cultural background. The results show a growing trend toward insularity, and the increasing need for “trust brokering” by trusted institutions and public figures (including influencers).

3. Teens are wondering if people rally care about them
1,500 American teens were asked about what questions they’re feeling the most pressure around. Near two-thirds of teens feel pressure thinking about whether people genuinely care about them (67%), and almost three in five are wondering whether their parents or caregivers will always love them (59%).

What I’m taking away:
Trust is becoming a scarce resource and a precious currency. People are questioning the accuracy of the news they consume, authenticity of the influencers they follow, the real priorities of their employers, and the relational resiliency in their lives. What will help us deepen our trust with one another, and how do we know who/what is truly worthy of our trust? What role can we play in helping each other see what’s real?

June and July were busy months, and here are some sweet moments from my life ☀

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