My smartphone is face down on my desk as I write this, not because something is wrong with it but because I am trying to finish one thought without it interrupting me. Such is the state of things in 2026.
As the newest editorial intern at TechCentral, I have owned every phone that mattered in the last 15 years:
- In grade 7, my mother bought me a BlackBerry, because BBM was social currency and showing up to school without one felt like arriving at a bring-and-braai without steak or boerewors.
- In grade 8, I campaigned, lobbied and emotionally browbeat her into buying me the Nokia Lumia, because the live tiles looked futuristic and cool.
- By matric, I had moved to an iPhone – and have stayed on Apple ever since.
None of this was because I was chasing something, but because, for my generation, keeping up with the latest tech was never really optional; it was just what we did. And yet…
The phone is still face down. Somewhere in the back of my brain, a voice is quietly asking whether a “dumb phone”, a device that can call and text and do little else, might be a smarter choice now.
So, what happens when a generation raised on constant noise starts wanting less of it? And how does that change the way we choose what to watch, who to believe and what we buy?
If you still measure success by website visits, you may be looking in the wrong place. When my generation wants to find something, we do not start with Google. We open TikTok or Instagram. Those platforms function as search engines now, even when we are not actively searching.
Each of the last three things I bought – a webcam, a pap maker and a selfie light – appeared in short videos, sponsored or not but never in the form of traditional advertising. Before the clips end, I am usually already in the comments. People tag friends; others warn about sizing and slow replies from the brand. Then it moves to group chat. Someone else bought the item; someone found it cheaper somewhere else; someone’s cousin has a story about it. Four minutes. Eight people I trust. Decision made.
Buying power
The websites selling the products came last – only to confirm the price and check returns policies. This is not a trend or a generational quirk; it is a structural shift in how trust is built and how purchase decisions are made online.
This is how Gen Z buys now. And the numbers are not small: this generation’s global spending power is projected to reach US$12-trillion by 2030, according to a 2024 report by the World Economic Forum. Combined with millennials, we already account for roughly a third of consumer spending today!
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The comments sections and group chats are no longer in the margins of consumer-focused companies’ marketing strategies – or shouldn’t be if they are. For Gen Z, they are the whole thing. If your brand’s funnel still starts with a homepage, it may never find us at all.
Google Trends data shows searches for dumb phones – also known as feature phones – have increased every year since 2020, driven largely by Gen Z. It’s not out of nostalgia – I was a baby when the Nokia 3310 came out and T9 keyboard texting holds no charm – but because many of us feel genuinely let down. The internet promised connection; instead, it keeps people scrolling, irritated and fractured.
The cognitive cost is real. Gloria Mark, chancellor’s professor of informatics at the University of California, Irvine, found that people switch tasks roughly every 47 seconds when working with screens, and, after an interruption, it takes an average of 23 minutes to regain focus fully. That finding does not feel like a statistic. It feels like my afternoon.
Then there are the subscriptions, the model that quietly turned ownership into a monthly fee. BMW, for instance, has charged customers a subscription to activate heated seats that are already physically built into their cars – a feature you paid for, locked behind a recurring charge.
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My Gmail account, which is 15 years old, recently prompted me to pay or risk losing access to my own history, and while Google’s exact terms around active accounts are worth scrutinising closely, the direction of travel is clear: the tech industry has decided that ownership is a problem to be solved, and we are the solution. They want us to rent our own digital lives.
Apple co-founder Steve Jobs once said that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. I want to own the things I pay for.
Here is what I want you to take from this, whether you are 24 or 54.
My generation did not break the internet. We arrived while it was still loading. No rules. No guide. We figured things out as we went, learned from YouTube videos, planned things in group chats and paid close attention. Some of us built real things online. We adapted because we had to.
We do not hate tech. We use it every day. We just want it to treat us better. Apps that help rather than drain, platforms that feel fair, products that do what they promise.
Asking better questions
People say Gen Z is confused. I do not feel confused. I feel alert. I scroll late at night. I pause. I think. I choose what’s deserving of my time.
I am not throwing my iPhone away. But I am asking better questions about it. And I think, if more people in boardrooms, in government and in the tech industry started doing the same, we might actually build something worth keeping.
Read: Beyond the hype: trust is the first step to generative AI ROI
The phone is still face down, though I concede I have snuck a peek at it a few times since I began writing this piece. I haven’t checked it in 11 minutes, though – and, honestly, it feels great. – © 2026 NewsCentral Media
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