There’s something deeply satisfying about finding the perfect screw.

You’re rummaging around in the bottom of a battered toolbox. You don’t quite know what you’re looking for — until suddenly you do. The thread is right. The length is right. It bites cleanly. Job done.

Perfection.

Now compare that with setting up a new device in 2026.

Within the last two months, I’ve set up:

• Two new iPhones

• An iPad

• A MacBook Pro

As a digital consultant, you’d assume this would be routine. Almost boring.

It wasn’t.

Migration: The Illusion of Intelligence

The “migration” process promised elegance. Seamless continuity. Effortless transfer.

Instead, it marched confidently forward making assumptions on my behalf — until suddenly I was presented with:

“Looking for devices…”

And then the spinning wheel.

Not a reassuring spin.
Not a purposeful spin.
The eternal spin.

It’s remarkable how quickly advanced technology can reduce itself to the digital equivalent of shrugging.

What fascinates me isn’t that something failed — failure is inevitable. It’s how confidently the process proceeds before revealing it has no idea what’s going on.

No graceful fallback.
No clear instruction.
Just: spin.

Entropy doesn’t crash systems dramatically anymore.

It just quietly erodes certainty.

“Checking Server Settings…”

It reminded me of setting up a mail account.

You enter the server details manually. You know they’re correct. You’ve done this for years.

But before you’re allowed to finish, the system insists on:

“Checking server settings…”

You sit.
You wait.
You already know what’s coming.

Fail.

Pfff.

The absurdity isn’t the failure. It’s the choreography.

The system must complete its ritual before permitting you to continue — even when you already know the outcome.

Perfection delayed by unnecessary cleverness.

Location: Apparently New York

Setting up the new MacBook Pro added another moment of quiet comedy.

Location?
Language?
Done.

Upgrade to the latest OS?
Of course.

After the upgrade, I’m asked again about location and language.

Fair enough.

System boots.

Clock widget appears proudly on startup.

New York.

I am not in New York.
There was no ambiguity.
No transatlantic VPN adventure.

And yet — New York.

It’s such a small thing. But it perfectly captures the absurdity of modern complexity. The system is capable of staggering sophistication… yet can’t reliably remember where it is.

Entropy doesn’t need drama.

It just needs layers.

AI vs Google (Round One)

Recently, I used AI to help debug some code.

Two hours of analysis.
Deep tweaks.
Elegant theories.
Alternative approaches.
Workarounds.

The issue persisted.

Eventually, I did what I would have done 20 years ago.

I searched.

Five minutes later, problem solved.

This isn’t a criticism of AI — it’s extraordinary and transformative. As a digital consultant, I use it daily.

But it was a reminder that layering intelligence on top of complexity doesn’t always produce clarity. Sometimes it produces beautifully structured confusion.

And then — in a moment of quiet irony — I tried to upgrade my own ChatGPT subscription.

Payment attempt one.
3DS process triggers.
Bank number one calls.
Automated voice.
Enter code.
Bot confirms.

You’re good.

Payment declined.

Payment attempt two.
Different bank.
App-based verification.
This always works.
Approve in app.

Payment declined.

Attempt three.
PayPal.
Looking promising.
Redirect to Stripe.

Spinning wheel.

It’s almost poetic.

Now, I’m not sharing that as a complaint. These platforms process millions of transactions flawlessly every day.

But that’s precisely the point.

Even the most advanced, AI-powered, security-layered financial systems in the world are not immune to tiny fractures.

Not broken.

Just imperfect.

New doesn’t automatically mean simpler.
Scale doesn’t automatically mean seamless.

Entropy doesn’t discriminate.

1999 Called. It Wants Its Server Engine Back.

A recent client project sounded beautifully straightforward.

They wanted an updated PDF — with live form fields.

Something I was building decades ago in Acrobat (agrobat!) as part of a major digital tool for Mitsubishi Electric. Back then, interactive PDFs felt revolutionary.

So this should have been easy.

But instead of revisiting the PDF route, I made a deliberate choice.

Simplicity.

Rather than creating another semi-intelligent document floating around inboxes, I proposed:

• A clean online form

• Data captured once

• Direct population into the client’s eCRM system

• A satisfying green tick confirming completion

No downloads.
No version confusion.
No “which version did you use?” conversations.

Elegant. Direct. Sensible.

Under the hood, I chose a server-side engine I’d worked with 25 years ago. Reliable then. Familiar. Battle-tested.

Today?

Pay your money.

It didn’t behave as expected.

Not catastrophically.

Just enough friction to derail the viability.

That’s the dangerous kind.

The kind where nothing is obviously broken… but nothing is dependable enough to trust either.

Plan A quietly stepped aside.

Plan B activated.

As a digital consultant, having a Plan B isn’t pessimism.

It’s professionalism.

Because entropy doesn’t care how long something has existed.
It doesn’t respect nostalgia.
And it certainly doesn’t honour past reliability.

Entropy in Digital Systems

In physics, entropy describes the natural drift toward disorder.

Left alone, systems decay.
Order requires energy.
Complex systems are inherently fragile.

Digital ecosystems are masterpieces of layered complexity:

• APIs talking to APIs

• Authentication layers layered upon authentication layers

• Device compatibility across versions and regions

• Cloud services abstracting physical infrastructure

• “Smart” features attempting to anticipate human intent

Every additional layer adds value.

And vulnerability.

Perfection becomes statistically improbable.

Not because engineers aren’t brilliant.
Not because companies don’t invest heavily.

But because complexity breeds entropy from inception.

KISS: The Antidote to Entropy

As a digital consultant, my role isn’t to promise perfection.

It’s to reduce unnecessary complexity.

To ask:

• Does this genuinely add value?

• Are we being clever instead of clear?

• Can this be simpler?

KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid.

Not simplistic.
Simple.

A screw can be perfect because its universe is small.

One job.
One interface.
One purpose.

Digital ecosystems are not small.

They are living, shifting constructions of abstraction, assumption and integration.

In life — and in digital — very little is as simple as the perfect screw.

Expect friction.
Design for resilience.
Reduce moving parts.
Always have a Plan B.

Because the spinning wheel will spin again.

And when it does, the calmest person in the room should be the digital consultant.