I Am The World’s Most Annoying Website

Welcome. So excited you’re here.

I’d love to tell you what I’m all about, but first I’ll need to access your camera and microphone. Don’t overthink it. I just want to give you the best experience, and that means being able to see and hear you at all times.

Next, please accept all 217 cookies. I know it sounds like a lot. But hey, some of them aren’t even mine. Sixteen are for my parent company. Two are for a marketing vendor that closed in 2017. Click ACCEPT ALL. Or look for faint gray text in the disclaimer that says CUSTOMIZE, then uncheck everything one by one. It’s really simple.

Great. Now, what country are you from? Here, use this dropdown of 195 countries, alphabetized (kinda), with no search bar, no autocomplete, and a scrollbar that doesn’t work. I’ll use your answer to set the currency, then get it wrong. And no matter what you choose, you’ll see a shipping policy that doesn’t apply to you.

Okay, next up, your email. So you can get the latest updates. What updates? All of them. Tuesday: an email about our company vision. Or was it the company mission? Either way, it uses the word “accelerate” a lot. Thursday: a resend of Tuesday’s email, with the subject line “Did you see this?” There’s no visible unsubscribe link, since it’s white on white. But hover over it, and it’ll show up. Fun, right? Answer seven questions to opt out. I’ll use your answers to send more emails.

Here comes the best part—spin the wheel. It’s a game. (Legal disclaimer: It’s not a game.) Ooh, so close. You landed on FREE GIFT, which, mysteriously, doesn’t load. Spin again. There you go: 10 percent off. I’ll send the coupon code within ten business days.

Wait a second. Did you hear something? That was me. A fun little ping to let you know I’m here. Don’t worry if you missed it. You’ll hear lots of pings from now on, since I do this every ninety seconds or so. There’s no way to turn the pings off for now, but I’m working on it. Look out for a beta release soon. You’ll get emails about it.

All right, we’ve hit the home stretch. Time to create an account. Why do you need an account? I already told you: for the best experience. Just enter a password. Make it stronger. Now make it weaker. You know what, continue with Google, where I’ll request your calendar, contacts, and YouTube watch history.

I also need you to turn off that ad blocker, VPN, and anything else that makes the internet close to usable. Then verify your phone number so that I can text you on Sunday afternoons. Accept our Terms of Service—all sixty-three pages of it. And set your notification preferences across seven categories. One of them can’t be turned off.

I know you’ve already done nineteen things, but can you verify you’re human? Click on the stairs. Nope. Click on the stairs. Correct. That was also the stairs. I needed to see you do it twice. Now click on the motorcycle. There isn’t one.

Account created! Let’s set it up. This part is three steps, but it’s actually twelve. Step four asks you to choose your avatar’s eyebrows. Step ten asks for a weirdly personal security question: “Who was your first heartbreak?”

Oh, that little guy bouncing in the corner? That’s Chip. You don’t have to talk to him now, because he’ll stay there forever. He’ll even say things like “Still there? ” if it’s been eight seconds and your cursor hasn’t moved. Yup, that’s an X in the corner of Chip’s window. The X is decorative.

Orientation time. Watch this video from three years ago. It’ll autoplay, with no visible pause button and a scrubber that doesn’t respond. The video only lasts ninety-four seconds. But know that it’ll reload at least twice.

And… you’re in! Welcome. So excited you’re here.

But I’m not available right now.

Want to join the waitlist?