
I go to a sauna that charges $20 for entry. They used to sell lemonade for about $2 per cup, or $3 for unlimited refills during your visit.

Every time I went, I'd stand there calculating whether the unlimited made sense. I knew I'd drink it once, maybe twice at most. The lemonade wasn't amazing. And the bigger problem for myself: they rotated flavors. They had maybe ten different options, but only two or three available each day. Some days the flavors they had just weren't good.

So most visits, I'd skip the lemonade and just drink water (or I'd go to a different sauna without really knowing why).

TLDR: My sauna raised lemonade prices, added expensive frozen fruit, and switched to a fixed four-flavor menu. Their cost per cup went up and customers drink more refills, so their margins got worse. But I now drive past a closer sauna to go there three times a week because I know exactly what drinks I'll get. Sometimes the hidden incentive that drives behavior matters more than the per-unit profit.

## What Changed

They raised the unlimited refill price to about $4. But they made two other changes:

First, they switched to better syrups. Not fancy, just noticeably better quality than before.

Second, they fixed the menu at four flavors—raspberry, mango, cucumber, and ginger. When you order raspberry or mango, they dump frozen berries or frozen mango chunks into your cup. Cucumber gets actual cucumber slices. Ginger gets fresh ginger.

When I first saw it, I thought they were crazy. They raised prices but their costs went up way more. Frozen fruit isn't cheap. And people are going to drink way more refills now that the drinks are better—which means even more frozen raspberries per customer. Before, the production cost was minimal because they just used basic juice. Now, with these ingredients, their margin on lemonade is orders of magnitude smaller. For some customers, they might actually be losing money on the drink itself.

## What Actually Happened

I now choose this sauna over others specifically because of the lemonade.

Before, I'd drink maybe two refills per visit, and I went occasionally. Now I drink four or five refills, and I go three times a week. That's $60 in entry fees every week that they wouldn't get otherwise.

From their accounting perspective, yes, they're making less margin on the lemonade. The frozen raspberries cost more than the old syrup, and I'm drinking more of it. But I wouldn't be there at all if they hadn't made these changes. I have a closer sauna to my home, but I drive past it to go to this one instead.

## The Hidden Incentive

The fixed menu matters more than the quality upgrade. Knowing exactly what flavors will be available when I show up means I don't have to gamble on whether today's selection will be worth it. I can count on it. And not just me—every customer knows what to expect.

This looked like a bad business decision at first—raise prices while also raising costs, resulting in worse per-unit margins. But the per-unit margin doesn't matter if it drives frequency and loyalty. The sauna makes most of their money on entry fees, not lemonade. The lemonade is just the reason I keep coming back instead of trying other places. At least in my case.

Not all incentives are obvious. Some things that look like they hurt margins actually drive the behavior that matters. The frozen raspberries aren't about the lemonade. They're about making sure I show up next time.


My sauna raised lemonade prices and added expensive ingredients. Their margins got worse, but I now go three times a week.

The Hidden Economics of Fresh Raspberries in Lemonade


I looked at my electric car's dashboard and saw 35% battery. Immediately, my chest tightened. I was 40 kilometers from home, and I started calculating whether I'd make it. Should I find a public charging station? What if I get stuck?

Then I checked the actual range: 80 kilometers remaining. More than double what I needed.

This happens constantly. The percentage creates stress that the actual range doesn't justify. 18% battery in my car might still mean 60 kilometers of range. 5% could be 40 or 50 kilometers. But the number itself triggers anxiety because of how we've been conditioned by every other device we own.

TLDR: Battery percentages in electric cars trigger anxiety because phones and laptops trained us to panic at low numbers, even though 18% in a car might still mean 60 kilometers of range. Electric cars should ditch the battery icon and percentage display and go back to the simple segment-based fuel gauge that gas cars used for decades.

## The Phone Problem

We carry phones and laptops that train us to panic at low battery percentages. 18% on your phone? You're probably not making it through the day. 35%? Better find a charger soon. This conditioning is so deep that seeing those same numbers in a car triggers the same response, even though the context is completely different.

An electric car battery is massive compared to a phone. 5% of an EV battery is equivalent to dozens of fully charged phones. The percentage doesn't mean the same thing, but your brain doesn't care. It sees the number and reacts.

## How Gas Cars Did It

Traditional cars had simple fuel gauges—either a semi-circle or a horizontal bar divided into quarters. You'd glance at it and see: full, three-quarters, half, quarter, nearly empty. That's it. No precise percentage, no number that made you calculate exactly how much you had left.

Some manufacturers like Audi used a narrow horizontal rectangle instead of the semi-circle, but the principle was the same: show roughly how full the tank is using segments, not percentages.

This worked because it matched how people actually think about fuel. You don't need to know you have exactly 37% of a tank. You need to know if you're fine, should fill up soon, or need to fill up now.

## What Actually Matters

The only number I care about in my electric car is kilometers remaining. That's the information that actually determines my decisions. Can I get home? Do I need to charge? The percentage is irrelevant noise that just creates stress.

Every person I know who drives an electric car agrees when I mention this. Some didn't even consciously realize they were experiencing unnecessary anxiety until I pointed it out. They just felt it.

## The Solution

Go back to the segment-based display. Remove the battery icon, remove the percentage, and show people what they need to know: roughly how much charge they have using the same visual language that worked for decades in gas cars.

Electric cars are already different enough from gas cars. The charging infrastructure is still sparse—there are far fewer charging stations than gas pumps. I charge at home specifically because I don't want to deal with public charging stations. The last thing we need is interface design that adds psychological stress on top of practical challenges.

Stop making me think my car is dying when it has plenty of range to get home.


Battery percentages create unnecessary anxiety in electric cars because we're conditioned by phones to panic at low numbers.

Electric Cars Need the Old Fuel Gauge Back


You want to set up social profiles for your product. You check the obvious username. It's available on most platforms. One has it taken. Now what?

Two options. Keep the clean name where you can and use something different on that one platform. Or pick a new name that works everywhere. The first option sounds practical until you realize what it costs. Someone finds you on Twitter, then searches Instagram and sees a different username. Looks inconsistent. Looks like you didn't plan this. Looks amateur.

Consistency matters more than having the perfect name on some platforms. Better to have the same handle everywhere than your ideal name in four places and a compromise in one.

## Suffix or prefix

Once you decide to add something, the question is what and where. Suffix or prefix.

Suffixes don't work. I don't know many examples beyond `_app` or `_official`, and both feel technical. Corporate. They work for enterprise tools maybe, but not for products built for people. Not for love brands. Adding `_app` feels like an apology. Like you're saying _"sorry, someone got here first."_

Prefixes are different. `hey`, `the`, `get`, `try`, `use`. They change the vibe, not just solve the availability problem. They feel intentional. A prefix sets a tone.

## Match the prefix to your product type

- **the** feels authoritative. Established. Like you've been around. Think `theverge` or `theguardian`. Use this when your product really stands out.

- **hey** feels approachable. Community-oriented. Friendly. Good for consumer products and services built for people.

- **try** or **get** feel action-oriented. Developer tools. _Try this_ or _Get started_. Very SaaS. Skip these if you're not building for developers.

- **use** has a hook quality. `use[product]` tells you what to do. Also dev-tool territory.

## Write it down and look at it

Repeating letters kill otherwise good names. `theedicek` has two e's touching. `gethey` would have `th` and `he` overlapping. You won't see it in your head. Write it on a document. Imagine it on a billboard or a business card. If it looks weird, move to the next option.

## Ask someone who'll tell you the truth

I wanted `theedicek`. Sent it to my wife along with `heyedicek` and `edicekapp`. She picked `theedicek` last. The double `e` bothered her. I hadn't seen it, but once she pointed it out, I couldn't unsee it.

You need someone outside your head. They'll spot the thing you missed. The visual weirdness. The odd connotation. The option that just looks wrong.

Pick one and use it everywhere. Register it on every platform you might use, even the ones you're not active on yet. Someone will take it if you don't. Consistency beats perfection.

-Petr


Consistency beats having the perfect name on some platforms. Prefixes beat suffixes. And you need someone else to spot what looks weird.

Petr Homoky

Get new posts in your inbox

The Hidden Economics of Fresh Raspberries in Lemonade

Electric Cars Need the Old Fuel Gauge Back

Your product name is taken on social media. Now what?