When Did Our World Become So Transactional?

A few months ago, I came across a social media post that genuinely disturbed me. A relationship coach shared that he had been in a minor car accident that day, hit from behind while driving at around 25 miles an hour. Nobody was injured, yet he wrote that for a moment he had been terrified of dying. What's more, he shared that the thought that flashed through his mind at the time was that he might die before reaching 100,000 followers on Facebook.

I am serious. This is what he actually wrote.

He went on to announce that he would donate money to a women's shelter for every new subscriber he gained that day. He also offered access to a free course and promised a $3,000 prize to the person who became his 100,000th follower. A few hours later, after many enthusiastic responses from his primarily female followers, he reached his target and promptly extended the offer to the next ten subscribers.

Now, of course, it is possible that he was genuinely shaken by what had happened and that this was his way of expressing gratitude for being alive. Yet something about this post felt incredibly off to me. It seemed to turn a moment of genuine vulnerability into a marketing opportunity.

More than that, it reflected a pattern I have noticed again and again online. Human vulnerability is increasingly used to draw people into what initially appears to be an authentic moment of connection, only to reveal itself as part of a sales strategy.

Someone shares something about their difficult childhood, menopausal discomfort, or some other challenge that a specific group of people can relate to. And just when you think, "Oh, this person has the same problem I have," and begin to feel warm towards them, there it is: the line that reads, Sign up to my course! Start coaching with me! Buy my product and all your problems shall be solved!

Don't get me wrong. I don't have a problem with sales and marketing. Nor do I have a problem with people earning a good living from their work. What I do have a problem with is emotional manipulation.

There is a difference between sharing something personal because it may help others feel less alone, and sharing it primarily as a way of building trust with potential customers. The first creates connection. The second turns personal struggles into a sales tool. What begins as a human exchange suddenly reveals itself as a transaction.

What's interesting to me as a psychologist is how effective this strategy actually is. It seems to tap into a fundamental human need for connection and belonging at a time when loneliness and social isolation are on the rise.

Of course, there is nothing new about using psychology to sell products. Advertisers have been studying human behaviour for decades. What feels different today is that the marketing often arrives wrapped in the language of authenticity, vulnerability, and personal connection. The salesperson no longer appears as a salesperson. Instead, they present themselves as a friend, fellow sufferer, or trusted guide.

Perhaps this feels so jarring to me because I grew up before the Internet and mobile phones became part of everyday life. This doesn't mean that there weren't transactional people around back then. Of course there were. But something has changed.

There is now an entire industry built around influencers, personal brands, and the monetisation of everyday life. The product being sold is often not just a course, a service, or a lifestyle. It is an illusion of intimacy, authenticity, and connection. In many cases, the line between genuine sharing and marketing has become so blurred that it is almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

It seems to me that very few people do things nowadays simply because they enjoy them, rather than because they can be monetised or look good on Instagram. I remember when Facebook first started. It was all about friendship, community and staying in touch with people. It was fun to reconnect with old friends, share bits of everyday life, and occasionally make new connections. Much of this has been replaced by self-promotion, and it's almost like many things don't exist for their own sake anymore.

But we lose something fundamental when we live like this. The moment we add calculation to a genuine passion, we risk killing its magic. Let me give you an example. For ten years, I travelled the world as a modern nomad. I did it because it genuinely lit me up and because I was curious to explore different cultures. I kept a travel blog — which was still a relatively new thing at the time — simply to share my adventures with friends and family back home. It was the easiest way to stay in touch with everyone without spending all my time writing letters.

I wrote posts once or twice a week, whenever I felt like it and whenever I had something exciting to share. This allowed me to stay in the moment and be fully present on my journey. Had I set out with the goal of becoming an influencer or monetising my travels, something that didn't even exist back then, it would have been a very different experience. Not only would I likely have felt more stressed and pressured, but many of the spontaneous, off-the-wall encounters that made those years so memorable might never have happened if I had been constantly documenting everything on my smartphone. Instead, I travelled first, then wrote about it afterwards.

The transactional mindset extends far beyond social media. We are constantly encouraged to be productive and to gain something from everything we do. Even our hobbies are expected to serve a purpose, whether that's improving ourselves, advancing our careers, building a following, or generating an income.

When I was a child, we played for play's sake. We simply wanted to have fun and followed our interests. Today, it often feels as though even children's hobbies are viewed through the lens of achievement and future success.

It takes some reflection and courage to disentangle ourselves from this mindset. To do things simply because they mean something to us, even if they don't bring us any rewards apart from joy or an inner satisfaction. To connect with people because we genuinely like and admire them, and not because we view them as useful. To express what we actually think and feel, even if it's not popular. To share from our hearts because we are moved to, and not because we have an ulterior motive.

When we stop treating every aspect of life as a transaction, things become very simple. We are free to enjoy, create, and connect without turning every experience into a means to an end. We meet others as human beings rather than as opportunities.

And it is precisely this authenticity that means we can't be bought. In a world that is increasingly transactional, that may be one of the most radical choices we can make.

Originally published at https://sriladevi.com on June 2, 2026.