I grew up in the 80s, when advertisements felt more like a break than a burden. A commercial would come on, and I’d use it as an excuse to grab a snack. That was it. I didn’t give the ad itself any thought. It was just part of the rhythm of watching TV. Less intrusive, more balanced. There was no pause button, no streaming library waiting in the background. you either watched what the station played, or you didn’t watch at all.
Things changed as time went on. It wasn’t just billboards on the highway or commercials between your favorite shows anymore. The internet showed up, and with it came banner ads and pop-ups. That’s when ads stopped being background noise for me and turned into an outright nuisance. They weren’t just there; they were in the way. Suddenly, seeing an ad didn’t make me curious about the brand, it made me resent it.
So what makes an ad intrusive? Back before the internet, I always had a choice. I could get up and leave the room during commercials, glance at a billboard or not, flip past a magazine ad in half a second. Even early web banners stayed on the sidelines where you could ignore them. But when people ignored ads, advertisers doubled down. Pop ups took over screens, hijacking attention you never offered. That’s when the balance broke.
It didn’t take long before people pushed back with pop-up blockers, and later full on adblockers. And here we are today, still in the same tug of war. Advertisers insist, users resist. Publishers beg us to whitelist their sites. And I keep asking myself: why force ads on people who don’t want to see them? I’ll never buy the product. Why not let me opt out?
The answer, of course, is that advertising isn’t as simple as “see, click, buy.” Advertisers don’t just rely on clicks. They believe in a few things that keep them pouring money into ads, whether we like them or not.
First, they believe that just seeing it works. Psychologists call it the “mere exposure effect.” Familiarity breeds liking. We may scroll past an ad a dozen times, thinking we’ve ignored it, and then one day in the store we feel a strange pull toward that brand simply because it feels familiar. Nobody is immune, They believe. Ads slip in, whether we pay attention or not.
But here’s where I push back. What about the people who were never going to buy in the first place? If I’m allergic to beer, no Budweiser ad in the world will make me a customer. There was no decision to be made, so the ad didn’t force a choice. To me, that breaks their logic.
Advertisers, of course, don’t see it that way. They work on averages. They expect some impressions to be wasted, and they write that into the cost. They’ll even argue that by showing me the ad, they gave me the option, and by passing on it, I still made a choice. Even if I ignore it, they claim the brand left a trace, a name tucked away in memory, ready to pop up in some conversation or complaint down the line. To them, that’s still influence.
And maybe that’s true on a group level. Maybe enough people who weren’t paying attention eventually buy, and that makes up for the rest of us who were never going to. But on a personal level, it feels like a stretch. If an ad has zero chance of moving me, then it didn’t influence me. I wasn’t swayed, I wasn’t primed, I wasn’t anything. I was just noise in their numbers.
They also believe that rejectors will talk about the brand, and that’s influence too. But I don’t buy that as a broad rule. Studies show negative word of mouth does exist, especially in social media, but it’s far from universal. Many people who reject a brand just walk away quietly, never bringing it up in conversation.
In B2B settings (business to business), negative word of mouth is only one among many reasons for rejection, and the incidence is relatively low. MSINFO
In consumer research, negative word of Mouth appears much less common than positive, in some datasets, there are up to 15 times more positive mentions than negative ones. ResearchGate
So even if an advertiser assumes rejection equals discussion, empirically it doesn’t always hold up. Many rejectors don’t become walking billboards against the brand they’re just a silent, no thanks.
Second, they believe resistance still counts. If you refuse to buy because of an ad, it still influenced you , just in the opposite direction. They call this “reactance.” Even rejection is engagement. To advertisers, ads don’t just make buyers; they also make rejectors. Either way, your behavior has been shaped, They Believe.
But here’s the part they don’t seem to account for. Sometimes there isn’t any choice to resist. If I was never going to use your product, then your ad didn’t force me to make a decision at all. It wasn’t persuasion, and it wasn’t reactance, it was just irrelevant.
Take me, for example. I don’t eat fake or plant based beef. No amount of commercials, glossy packaging, or claims about taste will ever change that. When I see those ads, I’m not resisting them, I’m ignoring them. They simply don’t apply. To call that engagement feels like giving the ad credit it never earned.
Advertisers like to frame every reaction as proof of influence: if you buy, they won; if you refuse, they still shaped your behavior. But sometimes the truth is simpler, you never had me in the first place
And third, they believe that even rejection leaves a lasting mark. In competitive markets, name recognition is everything. A brand you dislike is still a brand you remember, and they assume you might even mention it to someone else. That is still exposure, even if it is negative.
But I don’t think it plays out the way they imagine. If I was never going to buy your product, like fake or plant based beef, then seeing your ad didn’t force me to make a decision. I wasn’t swayed, I wasn’t resisting, I was just uninterested. Calling that influence feels like giving the ad credit it never earned.
They also like to believe rejectors will talk about the brand, spreading its name in conversation. In reality, that happens far less often than they suggest. Research shows negative word of mouth does exist, but positive brand mentions outnumber negative ones many times over. Most people who reject a brand don’t run around talking about it, they simply move on in silence.
Advertisers may accept some percentage of rejectors as the cost of doing business, but the idea that every “no” still creates meaningful exposure is shaky at best.
Sometimes rejection is not engagement at all, it is just indifference. Most of us do not run around telling our friends about the brands we dislike. More often, we quietly move on, and the ad fades without leaving a trace.
Then there is the money side. Advertisers pay either per click (PPC) or per impression (CPM). If you never click, they pay nothing. But if the ad loads on your screen, they pay, even if you never notice it.
That is why adblockers are so disruptive, no ad means no impression, no impression means no charge. Blocking does not “steal” from anyone, it just removes you from the game.
Now, I will admit there is one form of advertising I do not mind, and that is personalized ads. At least when they get it right, I am shown things I actually want to buy. I still do not like the sneaky ways they grab the data, but if advertisers simply asked me what I wanted to see, I would gladly tell them.
Show me video games, tech, barbecue, and cold beer, and I will watch. Everything else, whether it is fake beef, female products, or the latest fad, is nothing but noise to me. No amount of ads will change that.
And yet, advertisers and publishers cling to what they call “the bargain.” Free content in exchange for your attention. They want you to believe ads are the price of admission. But to me, it has always been a broken deal.
Some would argue that by turning on the TV or going to a website, I have already agreed. That is the bargain, they say, the price of admission.
Maybe there is some truth to that, but it never felt like a choice to me. Ads are everywhere, baked into the system, and I never signed a contract saying my attention was theirs to rent. At best it is implied consent, and at worst it is no consent at all.
The real problem is that the bargain casts too wide of a net. It assumes my attention is fair game for every product under the sun, whether it interests me or not. That is where ads stop feeling like part of the deal and start feeling like an intrusion.
If I am being shown products I would never buy, the ad is nothing but noise. But when an ad actually matches my interests, it is different. Show me games, tech, barbecue, or cold beer, and I will at least listen. Those ads feel less like interruptions and more like opportunities.
That is the heart of it. Ads are not just about selling products, they are about shaping behavior. Sometimes toward, sometimes against, but always in some direction. Even when I ignore them, they insist I am still playing in their game.
And that, I think, is why I will never love ads again. They stopped being a break and became a battle.
