For over 15 years, I endorsed Google products to clients, convinced of the ecosystem’s superiority in UX/UI. I witnessed how businesses thrived under Google’s umbrella, and my own reliance on their services seemed natural. However, behind the sleek interface and seemingly user-centric designs, I began to notice subtle shifts that eroded my trust.
Around 2018, I noticed a sharp decline in the quality of Google Search, a service that had once been indispensable. By 2020, I was forced to find alternatives, discovering Brave Search—a tool that revived the usefulness of search engines for me. Circling back to Google as a SaaS Product, this was a far more insidious realisation: even as a paying customer, Google was exploiting my personal data. The photographs I uploaded, the tags I placed on faces, animals, and plants—these weren’t just tools for my own memories. They were being used by Google to train its AI, without my knowledge or consent. I was paying for the privilege of doing free labour for them, training their systems so they could sell me more products I didn’t ask for. Meanwhile, they were discontinuing the services I valued time and time again, often without notice, and raising subscription prices.
This entire experience felt disgusting. The very company I trusted with my most personal memories was not only using me for profit (twice over) but also manipulating my loyalty. The realisation that my personal data was no longer mine—that it had been weaponised to sell me something else—was a betrayal I couldn’t overlook.
Based on the tens or hundreds of digital products/services the average person uses on a daily basis; how many of us, have the time to read a 35 page legalese? The “We’re changing the Terms and Conditions” that most companies seem to roll out every 5 minutes. I would say this is tantamount to legal duress. Nobody who is productive in their business would have the resources at hand to read/understand or contest the terms and conditions that seem to be spinning out every 5 minutes. Please leave a comment if this means anything to you
Neil
The Transition:
Breaking away from Google wasn’t just about privacy; it was about reclaiming my autonomy in a system that no longer respected me as a customer, but also usefulness, Google was just not useful like it once was. Creating a plan to help my clients migrate away from Google’s throttling grip, and even helping my mother transition away from Google Workspace was probably one of the hardest things of all, but helped me learn by setting up my own private cloud storage across multiple countries were all part of this shift. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.
What’s striking is the irony: after years of advocating for Google, I now actively discourage (new annd old) clients from using their services. The shift wasn’t just personal; it was professional. I could no longer, in good faith, support a company that had so blatantly disregarded the trust we had built.
Conclusion:
My journey to de-Google my life reflects more than a technical transition; it’s a lesson in the fragility of customer trust. Even a company with the most polished UX/UI can sabotage its relationship with users by prioritising profit over people. For me, the breaking point came when Google started using my private data, without consent, to train AI, all while raising subscription prices and discontinuing the services I actually wanted.
In the end, this isn’t just about technology—it’s about integrity. Where I once encouraged businesses to adopt Google products, I now caution them to be wary. Trust is hard to earn, and once broken, it’s nearly impossible to restore. Google may have once been indispensable, but no longer.
