I had always thought of Apple as a brand for designers. They cared about the design of products and the user interface. Even as a kid, this was important to me. I wasn’t indoctrinated into thinking that this matters; it matters to me, already.
I would always feel good whenever I saw one of the few Apple reseller stores here in the Philippines back in the early 2000s. Even then, it wasn’t really about the software. I’d been well aware that it’s the people that make the tools and not the other way around. But I also resonated with the value that good, thoughtfully crafted tools are some sort of regard to the humanity of the ones using them.
For sure, people can use a stick with three prongs and have a perfectly working fork — but there’s a reason why table forks look and feel the way they do. That’s how I’ve always seen Apple: a company that, even before I understood it with words, made efforts to create a cohesive emotional experience for the user.
Apple inspired me to care like a human being to another human being — to think of products not just from a practical standpoint but from an emotional one. It taught me to embrace the blurred lines between art and engineering, to make any kind of product delightful.
It showed me that design has power — and that we should do our best to wield that power to enrich the lives of human beings, not just “users.”
I almost got into the ecosystem. I had an iPad Pro 11” 4th Gen and an iPhone 15 — my first-ever Apple products under my name. Around twenty-five years ago, I was given some time with a Macintosh and thought it was fun, non-intimidating, almost infectious. I even wished we could hook up a printer to it so I could print my homework.
But tech had already moved on, and the Macintosh eventually got scavenged for a DIY hard-drive transplant that didn’t work out.
That early memory shaped how I saw Apple: magical, but fragile. The promise of “it just works” slowly seemed to apply only within the Apple ecosystem. And that wouldn’t be much of a problem if it were more accessibly priced — but it isn’t.
The friction started to add up. Transferring files from iPad or iPhone to PC. Using perfectly good non-Apple hardware that didn’t integrate well. I began to feel that “it just works” had become “it just works — if you stay.”
I bought a Sony WF-C510. It’s beautiful. And it’s Sony. Like Apple, it’s a brand I’ve long respected.
But using it with my iPhone was clunky. The calls, the transparency mode, the lag in switching connections; small things, sure, but they build up. A thousand cuts. Every friction, as Apple knows very well, deteriorates the user experience.
Maybe it’s not Apple’s fault that my earphones don’t pair seamlessly. But file transfers need not be this hard. The keyboard shouldn’t still be awkward. I shouldn’t have to wait for Apple to fix what could’ve been solved by a third-party app.
These cracks made me think twice about getting a Xiaomi smartwatch not because it’s bad, but because I already assume it won’t play nicely with my iPhone. That’s the problem: I’ve been trained to expect difficulty for simply wanting to use something else.
It’s not that I don’t like Apple — it’s that I like other things too. And I wish I could use them just as fine with Apple. But I can’t. And I can’t help but think Apple doesn’t want me to.
I’m not an Apple hater — I’m just a lover of many other things.
That’s why I can still affirm how good MacBooks are, how unmatched the Apple Pencil experience remains. Those things are genuinely world-class.
But I also think about what became of Apple’s old slogan, “for the rest of us.” That idea of making consumer technology more human, more accessible — I don’t know if that’s still where they are.
Now, I’m moving forward with a Windows PC, Sony earphones, and probably a Xiaomi smartwatch. It’s a bit ironic that if I had been an Android user, all these would work together more easily. But it’s my iPhone — the beautiful, thoughtfully designed product that it is — that now ruins the dance.
Still, I’m not bitter. Just ready. Ready to move on, thankful for what Apple gave me — for how they shaped my eye, my craft, and my care for people through design.
There are other beautiful things out there. Other well-made tools. Other stories waiting to be told.
And who knows? Maybe one day, Apple will remember the rest of us again.