Your smartphone is three generations old. The camera is objectively worse. The battery dies by noon. Apps crash regularly.
A newer model would solve every problem. You know this intellectually.
You're keeping the old phone anyway.
For many autistic consumers, this isn't stubbornness or budget constraints. It's transition resistance—the cognitive cost of learning a new system exceeds the functional benefit of upgrading.
This creates a massive market segment that behaves completely opposite to how tech companies assume consumers operate.
Apple moves the camera app slightly between iOS versions. Android changes the settings menu structure. The new phone has gesture controls instead of a home button.
These seem like minor adjustments to neurotypical users. Minor annoyances at most.
For autistic users, each change represents cognitive debt. You've built muscle memory for exactly where every app lives. You know the precise gesture speed for scrolling. You've memorized the seven-step path to reach Bluetooth settings.
Now everything is different. Not better or worse—just different. And different requires relearning.
The mental energy required to relearn these systems often exceeds the available cognitive budget. Especially when that budget is already allocated to masking at work, managing sensory input, and navigating social expectations.
So the phone doesn't get upgraded. Not until it literally stops functioning.
Marketing departments celebrate innovation. Every product update gets promoted as advancement.
To transition-resistant consumers, this messaging translates as: "We broke the thing you finally learned how to use."
Samsung's messaging: "Reimagined interface with intuitive gesture controls and redesigned settings for easier access."
What autistic consumers hear: "We moved everything. Nothing is where you left it. You'll need to relearn the entire system."
The features might genuinely be improvements. That's irrelevant if the transition cost is prohibitive.
This is why you see autistic consumers using phones until they're literally held together with tape. Not because they can't afford new ones. Because the working phone represents zero ongoing cognitive load. It's mapped completely. It's automatic.
Most tech companies discontinue support for products after three to five years. Security updates stop. Apps become incompatible. The device becomes increasingly unusable.
This forced obsolescence creates genuine distress for transition-resistant consumers who've finally achieved system mastery.
Smart companies are recognizing this as opportunity rather than constraint.
Hypothetical Example: A company called "Continuity Mobile" (clearly marked as hypothetical) builds their entire brand around transition resistance. They make one phone model. They update it annually with better internals—processor, camera, battery—but maintain identical external design, interface, and button placement.
Their marketing messaging: "Same phone. Better components. Zero relearning."
They support each model for ten years with security updates. They offer a "settings transfer" that doesn't just move data but preserves exact app layouts, gesture sensitivities, and customization down to icon placement.
Their customer retention rate is 94 percent because upgrading no longer means starting over.
Brands succeeding with transition-resistant consumers invert typical tech marketing.
"Revolutionary new interface. Completely reimagined experience. Everything you loved, now better."
"Identical interface you already know. Same button placement. Same settings location. Just faster."
The value proposition shifts from innovation to preservation. You're not asking customers to embrace change. You're promising them they won't have to.
Transition resistance affects how offers need to be structured.
"Trade in your old phone. Get $200 off the new model with cutting-edge features."
"Keep your exact setup. We'll transfer every setting, every app position, every customization. If anything feels different, we'll fix it or refund the upgrade."
The offer reduces perceived risk. You're not gambling that the new system will be learnable. You're guaranteed continuity.
Some brands are offering "test drive" programs specifically for transition-resistant customers: Use the new phone for two weeks. If the transition cost feels too high, return it with zero penalty and keep using your current device.
This removes the binary decision. You can evaluate actual transition cost rather than imagining it.
A campaign targeting transition resistance looks fundamentally different from standard upgrade campaigns.
Content demonstrating exact interface continuity. Side-by-side videos showing "your current phone vs. new phone—spot the difference" (there aren't any visible differences).
Detailed documentation of what's changing and what isn't. "These 47 things work exactly the same. These 3 things improved but stay in the same location."
Trial period with guaranteed return to current device if transition cost is prohibitive. No restocking fees. No questions asked.
Maintaining legacy products and promising continuity seems expensive.
But consider the alternative: losing customers entirely because they're keeping devices until they disintegrate rather than facing transition costs.
The brands capturing transition-resistant consumers are building ten-year customer relationships instead of hoping for three-year upgrade cycles.
That lifetime value calculation looks dramatically different.
Ready to market continuity instead of innovation? We'll help you reach transition-resistant consumers by promising preservation rather than change.