I have a folder on my desktop called "old tools." It's not a folder I created. It just keeps filling up.
Last month I spent an evening setting up a task manager that had custom fields, nested tags, and automations that could move tasks between boards. I watched tutorials. I color-coded priorities. I built a view for each project. When I opened it the next morning, I didn't know where to click. I closed it and wrote three tasks on an index card. The card is still stuck to my monitor. The task manager is in the folder.
I think about that index card often. It doesn't have notifications. It doesn't sync. It doesn't care about my deadlines. But it works, because I don't have to maintain it.
Complexity charges a subscription
The problem with complex tools isn't the learning curve. It's not even the setup time. The real cost is what happens after the setup. Every time you open a complicated tool, you have to remind yourself how it's organized. You have to remember which tag means active, which view is the one you actually use, and why there are three different filter buttons on the same screen.
That cost doesn't show up in a demo. It shows up slowly, as little moments of friction. Eventually you start avoiding the tool. Then you feel guilty about avoiding it. Then you look for a new tool.
My teammate told me last week that she runs her entire team from a single Google Doc. It's not pretty. There are bullet points and horizontal lines and some emoji. But she's used it for two years. When I asked why, she said, "Because I don't have to think about whether I'm supposed to be in Docs or in the project manager." That's the whole game. A tool should let you stop thinking about it.
We buy complexity as optimism
I know why I keep installing these tools. They bring a feeling of starting over. When you open an empty workspace with a clean interface, you imagine that this time your work will organize itself. You fill in the settings, create the folders, and for about an hour you feel like an effective person.
But you're not doing work. You're doing pre-work. Pre-work feels useful. Real work is messy.
While building Huanjian, we found the same thing. Users don't ask for more ways to control the final deck. They ask for fewer stops on the way there. They want a rough draft they can react to, not a toolbox they have to master. So the product keeps getting simpler, even though everyone on the team is capable of building more complexity. It's harder to keep things simple than to add features. But it's the right direction.
I'm not saying every complex tool is bad. Some people love learning keyboard shortcuts. Some people genuinely need custom workflows for huge systems. I'm glad those tools exist. But they're right for a minority. Most people need to get through their workday without running a system administration course.
Simple doesn't mean weak. The most powerful tools are usually simple at the surface and deep underneath. Think about email. The concept is simple: send a message and read replies. You can use it for years without touching filters