### Maybe the Default Settings Are Too High

We get a new phone, a new piece of software, a new video game. We unbox it, install it, and fire it up for the first time. It comes with a pre-packaged experience, a set of “default settings” designed by the creators to be the standard. Graphics are set to “Ultra,” notifications are all enabled, and every feature is turned on to showcase its full potential. The assumption is that this is the best, most complete version of the experience.

But what happens when the graphics on “Ultra” make the game lag on your machine? When the constant notifications from a new app shatter your focus? When the sheer number of features is overwhelming rather than empowering? We run into a simple, often overlooked problem: the default settings are too high. We are handed a baseline that is designed for a hypothetical power user, not for the reality of our own lives, hardware, or mental bandwidth.

This concept extends far beyond our digital devices. It’s a quiet metaphor for much of modern life.

Consider the world of work. The default setting for a “successful” career often looks like a 40+ hour work week, a constant climb up the corporate ladder, an always-on availability, and an inbox that never sleeps. This is the “Ultra” setting of professional life. For some, it works. For many others, it leads to burnout, anxiety, and a sense of perpetual inadequacy. We chug along, assuming this is the only way, without stopping to ask if we could dial it back to “High” or even “Medium” and still achieve a result that is not just acceptable, but sustainable and fulfilling.

The same is true for our social and personal lives. The default settings handed to us by society often include a rigid timeline for major life events: college, career, marriage, house, kids. The default for parenting is intensive and all-consuming. The default for fitness is a high-intensity workout regimen and a restrictive diet. The default for social connection is a packed calendar. When we fail to meet these demanding baselines, we feel like we are failing at life itself, rather than recognizing that the presets were simply calibrated for a different kind of user, a different kind of life.

The problem with defaults is their invisibility. They operate as the assumed norm, the path of least resistance. We don’t consciously choose them; we simply inherit them. And because everyone else seems to be operating on these settings, we feel a pressure to keep up, even if our internal systems are overheating.

So, what is the alternative? It’s the conscious, deliberate act of going into the menu and adjusting the settings.

It’s the realization that you don’t need to be alerted every time someone likes a photo. You can turn those notifications off. It’s understanding that your value as an employee isn’t measured by how quickly you respond to an email at 10 PM. You can set boundaries. It’s accepting that a happy life doesn’t require checking off a list of societal expectations. You can define your own metrics for success.

This isn’t about lowering your standards or “settling.” It’s about customization. It’s about trading the one-size-fits-all default for a bespoke configuration that matches your own capacity, values, and goals. It’s choosing smooth performance over stuttering ambition. It is the simple, yet revolutionary, act of asking: “What settings actually work for *me*?”

Perhaps the greatest skill we can develop is the ability to recognize when the default is no longer serving us. To have the courage to open the options menu, slide a few bars down, uncheck a few boxes, and create an experience that is not just impressive on paper, but beautifully, sustainably, and joyfully our own.