So, I’m sitting there, three coffees deep, when a client—let’s call him Dave, because he sounds like a Dave—drops a bomb: he wants his homepage to be the digital equivalent of a CVS receipt. Forty-seven sections, he says. Testimonials, a photo gallery of his dog, a live feed of his Fitbit steps, the works. I’m over here, 30 years into this web design gig, wondering if I’ve finally met the guy who’ll make me snap and retire to a cabin with no Wi-Fi. Spoiler: I didn’t. But I did survive the Great Scrollbar Schism, and I’m here to tell you why “less is more” isn’t just some artsy-fartsy mantra—it’s how you don’t die on this hill.

Dave’s vision was a scrolling nightmare. He wanted a “one-stop shop,” he said, like his site was Walmart on Black Friday. I tried explaining bounce rates—y’know, how people flee when your page takes longer to load than their microwave popcorn—but Dave wasn’t having it. “People love to scroll,” he insisted, probably fresh off a TikTok binge. I pictured users clawing their way through his endless abyss, thumbs bleeding, cursing my name. I’ve been doing this since dial-up, Dave. I’ve seen Geocities graves. Infinite scroll ain’t the flex you think it is.

The kicker? He wanted it “intuitive.” Sure, Dave, let’s make a 47-section labyrinth that screams “user-friendly” while your visitors sob into their keyboards. I could’ve coded it—lord knows I’ve built dumber things for less—but I’ve got scars and wisdom from three decades of this circus. So, I staged a quiet rebellion. I mocked up his monstrosity in one tab and a lean, mean, five-section version in another. Guess which one didn’t crash my browser? Guess which one didn’t make me want to yeet my monitor?

Here’s the fix I pulled from my archives, circa 2007, when another scroll-happy client nearly broke me. Step one: prioritize. I told Dave to pick his top five must-haves—business pitch, contact form, a few pics, whatever—and ditch the rest. Step two: subpages. I funneled his dog gallery and Fitbit flexing into separate clicks, because nobody’s scrolling past section 12 for that. Step three: speed. I stripped the bloat—sorry, Dave, your 4K header video’s toast—and optimized it to load faster than my patience wears thin. The result? A homepage that didn’t feel like a punishment, with a 2-second load time and a conversion rate that shut Dave up real quick.

“Less is more” isn’t a bumper sticker—it’s survival. I’ve watched trends come and go, from Flash intros to parallax hell, and the ones that stick are the ones that respect the user’s sanity. Dave’s site launched, he got leads, and I got to keep my dignity. He still emails me about adding a “weather widget,” but I’ve got 30 years of saying “no” under my belt. If you’re tempted to cram your life story into one page, take it from me: trim the fat, save the scrollbar, and thank me later when your visitors don’t bail. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a coffee to refill and a couch to conquer.