One user clocks almost 19 hours a day on their phone. The device is everything.

Who the screenmaxxers are

Morgan Dreiss, a copy editor in Orlando, says their phone is never far away. They average 18 hours and 55 minutes of screen time daily, and they read, play and socialise on that device from waking to sleep.

That number grabs attention. It also forces a question: why would anyone live like that?

Part of the answer is work. Corina Diaz, 45, who lives two and a half hours outside Toronto and works in video-game marketing and influencer management, has a job that demands a big chunk of screen hours.

Diaz met her husband online in 2005 and says her phone use climbed again when she had a child three years ago because odd hours meant scrolling and messaging into the night.

But there’s more than employment at play. Diaz told WIRED she’s sought online friendships since the 1990s—back when that meant Internet Relay Chat and bulletin board systems. For her, and for a lot of others, the screen is a lifeline to niche communities and people who aren’t near them.

Not everyone wants less screen time

We all know drugs and gambling come with clear risks. But whether social media is really addictive? That’s a tougher question.

Still, many people now think cutting back on scrolling might actually help. Courts and legislators have noticed. A jury recently found Meta and YouTube liable for designing parts of their platforms with features that encouraged excessive use.

Even with that scrutiny, some users reject the push to cut down. Taylor Lorenz, a journalist, is on the record as unusually enthusiastic about deeper integration with screens—proof that not every heavy user feels trapped or ashamed. Others, like Dreiss, don’t frame their behaviour as a problem either. Dreiss has disabled their phone’s autolock so a game can run continuously and log hours toward a payout—$35 for every 110 hours logged. Dreiss has earned about $16 so far.

Mastheads

How geography and social ties shape use

People who live far from friends and specialist groups use phones differently than those in dense cities. Diaz, who lives in a remote, forested area, treats screens as a connection tool. Daniel Rios, a computer programmer who returned to the South American country where he grew up after years abroad, finds most of his old friends have moved away and not come back. His social world is partly digital for lack of local options.

Thing is, not all screen time is the same. A marketing manager who spends hours on Slack and analytics dashboards is doing a different kind of engagement than someone doomscrolling at 3am. But both add to total minutes, and both show up in the same clock on a phone’s settings page.

What research and rulings are saying

For years, researchers have flagged physical and cognitive concerns tied to very high levels of screen use. Studies look at sleep disruption, attention, eyesight strain and mental-health correlations, especially in young people. Public-health advocates and some lawmakers pushed back on app design that encourages nonstop engagement.

The key point is that courts have joined the discussion. The jury decision against Meta and YouTube signals legal exposure when platforms are engineered with features that nudge users to keep returning. That’s a new lever beyond voluntary choices and user settings.

Communities that do the opposite

There’s a visible countercurrent. Digital-detox retreats, apps that lock phones, and online communities swapping tips for unplugging have grown over the past decade. People join minimal-phone movements, go on notification fasts, or swap screens for books at set times.

Still, the existence of those options doesn’t mean heavy users will take them. For many screenmaxxers, the phone isn’t a passive trap. It’s a workplace, a social room, and a hobby all at once.

The economics and incentives

Some screen-heavy behaviour has a clear economic logic. Dreiss’s decision to keep a game running for payout is an example: they’re literally monetising hours on a device. For others, work ties are explicit: game marketing, social-media management and remote freelancing all turn time-on-device into income or career maintenance.

And then there’s design economics. Platforms get paid when people stay; advertisers pay for attention. That alignment creates incentives for features that make it easy to keep scrolling, watching and tapping.

Personal experience and identity

For many long-term heavy users, identity is stitched to screen use. Diaz says niche groups found online in the 1990s gave her a sense of belonging she didn’t get locally. That sense of belonging still exists—just on different apps and platforms. For them, the screen isn’t an escape from real life so much as a bridge to the parts of life they care about.

Right now, that means decisions about reducing time are personal, not uniform. Some people cut back and feel calmer. Others double down and say their phone improves their life. The choices are rarely simple.

Where the conversation goes next

Regulation will push tech companies to rethink how much of their products are designed to maximise minutes. Courts may keep adding pressure. Still, human factors—work patterns, family needs, geography and social tastes—will keep shaping how people use devices.

The thing is, tech policies can tweak settings, demand openness, and ban some tricks, but they can’t tell someone if they want to spend hours online. The choice, and the trade-offs, remain individual.

Voices from the people living it

"I'm reading a book or playing a game pretty much from waking to sleeping," said Morgan Dreiss, copy editor in Orlando. For Dreiss and others like them, the phone isn't only a tool. It’s a constant companion—and often an economic engine.

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"I'm reading a book or playing a game pretty much from waking to sleeping," said Morgan Dreiss, copy editor in Orlando.

This article was created with AI assistance.