When “Better UX” Isn’t the Right Choice (Yet)

Early in my UX career, I believed that good UX meant choosing the most elegant, scalable, and logically complete solution.

If something was clearer, more expandable, and better structured, then it had to be the right choice.

At least, that’s what I thought.

This is my fourth year working as a UX/UI designer.

In my first year, whenever I got a task, I searched for references and similar components. If we already had a pattern, I used it. If I found a good example elsewhere, I adapted it and tried to make it work.

In my second year, I started to blamed the company for not investing enough in UX. We were always constrained by development resources, tight timelines, constant compromises.

By my third year, I decided to change something on my own. I started learning to code, because I wanted to understand how much my designs actually cost. I stopped designing in isolation and started balancing effort and impact. Sometimes I even proposed two versions: one for fast delivery, and one for better UX if conditions allowed.

At some point, I felt quite confident.

I thought: maybe I’ve become a mature UX designer.

At the end of last year, I started to work on a new product.

It was a complex CRM system - honestly, exactly my kind of thing.

I spent a lot of time browsing mature CRM tools, comparing patterns, discussing ideas with AI, and prototyping in Figma and Google AI Studio. I really enjoyed the process.

When I shared my progress with my manager, I said something like this:

“We do have an obvious solution (using our existing pattern). But after doing some research, I found two common patterns in the market. We’re currently closer to the first one, but the second one feels clearer and more expandable in the long run. I think we should decide which one we actually want.”

I was proud of myself. I felt like I had finally figured out something complex and could explain it clearly.

My manager appreciated the effort, but he still preferred to keep things simple at the beginning and stick with the existing pattern.

After the meeting, I felt a bit strange.

I wasn’t angry.

I wasn’t disappointed either.

I just kept thinking about it.

What I later realized was this:

My UX thinking wasn’t wrong.

But it might not have been right for that moment.

Before this project, when people talked about “product stage,” I mostly understood it as a reason to accept lower UX quality.

Something like: “We’re still early. Let’s ship first and refine later.”

But now I see that it’s more than that.

The stage of a product also shapes users’ expectations.

When a product is still very early, users are usually there for one reason: the core feature. They don’t yet know if the product is worth their time, so you can’t expect them to invest much effort learning complex interactions.

In that context, a logically perfect and highly scalable pattern can actually add unnecessary cognitive load. Users need to understand it, remember it, and trust that it’s worth learning.

Sometimes, keeping things simple isn’t a compromise.

It’s just a better fit for where the product is.

We often read about what makes an interface “confusing.” But in reality, I think we sometimes underestimate users’ ability to adapt - especially in B2B products.

If users truly value what your product does, small friction usually isn’t a deal-breaker.

*What scares people away is a product that looks heavy and time-consuming before they even start using it.*

That’s something I didn’t fully realize before.

This experience also made me reflect on my own indie product attempts.

As a designer, I used to believe that great UX alone could attract users. I was obsessed with beautiful interfaces and clever interactions. I thought that if I found a real pain point and built a high-quality solution, people would naturally come.

But products aren’t just single moments.

They grow.

Just like people, products need different things at different stages. You can’t expect users to absorb everything at once.

I’m still figuring this out, honestly.

But realizing how important the product stage is - and consciously considering it in my design decisions - has been a big aha moment for me.

If you’re a junior UX designer, I hope this helps you feel a bit less confused when your “better” solution doesn’t get chosen.

This is just where my thinking is right now, and I’d really love to hear how others see this.