We’re pushing 15 years of the iPad being in our lives, and I still can’t figure out exactly where it fits.
That’s not for lack of trying. I’ve owned more iPads than I care to admit (I think I’m up to 7 overall), ranging from the original to the mini, a few Airs, the Pro, and back to the Air again. I’ve thrown keyboards at it, paired controllers to it, installed every “Pro” app I could justify, and traveled with it as my only computer. And yet, no matter how many times I try to force the iPad into my workflow, I always end up coming to the same conclusion: I’m a Mac guy first, an iPhone guy second, and the iPad just doesn’t make sense in my life.
And that’s frustrating, because the hardware is incredible. iPads are sleek, featherlight, and ridiculously powerful. They’re silent, cool to the touch (although it seems like recent versions can’t claim that as readily), and have some of the best screens I’ve ever used. Paired with the Magic Keyboard and an Apple Pencil, they feel like they should be the perfect modern computer. But that promise has always been just out of reach. It’s always close enough to tempt, never close enough to deliver.
The Identity Crisis
At its core, the iPad still feels like a product in search of a purpose. It tries to be both a tablet and a laptop, but never fully commits to either. Apple’s marketing leans hard into productivity with their “Your next computer is not a computer” ads, but the limitations of iPadOS make that claim feel aspirational at best.
There’s no real desktop environment. No overlapping windows. No persistent file system. Even with Stage Manager and other recent improvements, multitasking remains clunky. The experience feels like a series of clever workarounds rather than a thoughtful system for doing actual work. And as someone who spends their day working on a Mac, the mental overhead of “working differently” on an iPad isn’t freeing … it’s tiring.
Redundant by Design
The biggest problem with the iPad isn’t what it can’t do – it’s that everything it does well is already covered by other devices and nearly everything it does software wise is just compromised enough to make me kind of hate using it.
I did the math recently: a base 11” iPad Pro with a Magic Keyboard costs around $1300. For about $1500, I could get a base M2 MacBook Air ($1099), a Nintendo Switch ($299), and a Kindle Paperwhite ($110). That’s three devices that are each better at the thing they’re built for. The Mac handles real work. The Switch is pure portable gaming. The Kindle is the best reading experience out there, full stop.
Meanwhile, the iPad is supposed to do all of that – and it kind of does! but never quite as well.
It’s too heavy and bright to be a great e-reader. It’s not quite powerful or flexible enough to be a real gaming device. And as a laptop replacement? It’s still not there. For nearly every task I’d consider doing on an iPad, another device beats it on ergonomics, capability, or joy of use.
What I Actually Use It For
A quick look at my Screen Time confirms it: I use my iPad for reading on Instapaper, browsing the web, and watching YouTube. That’s it. And that’s been consistent across every iPad I’ve owned over the years.
It’s a nice gadget to have around, no question. But when you step back and think about cost versus utility, it’s really hard to justify. My iPad Air is “best in class” for what it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessary. If it disappeared tomorrow, I wouldn’t miss it.
Platform Priorities
That’s led me to a broader realization: of all the platforms Apple makes, the Mac is the only one I couldn’t live without. iOS is essential because of the iPhone, sure – but if push came to shove, I could get by without iPadOS, watchOS, or even tvOS. The Mac, though, is where I work, write, and think. It’s the foundation of how I use computers. I’m sure part of this is just the old man in me talking (which is apparently becoming a common theme around here).
Ironically, the success of iOS may be the thing holding the iPad back. Apple became a juggernaut by turning the iPhone into a cultural and economic force — but it also became addicted to growth. Services revenue, ecosystem lock-in, and tight control over how software works across platforms now feel like constraints rather than strengths.
Apple seems terrified of making iPadOS too powerful, lest it cannibalize MacBook sales. As a result, the iPad is stuck in a strange limbo: it’s too expensive and overpowered to be “just a tablet,” but not quite capable enough to be a real computer.
The Workflow Problem
Working on an iPad always feels like compromise. The Magic Keyboard is excellent, the cursor support is surprisingly good, and the app ecosystem has matured, but the device never quite gets out of your way. Whether it’s the awkward vertical screen when typing, the limitations around windowing, or the hoops you have to jump through to do basic file management, the iPad demands that you adjust your workflow to fit it, rather than adapting to how you already work.
That’s not inherently bad – but for long-time Mac users, it introduces a lot of friction. And friction kills momentum. The upcoming changes to things like background tasks, windowing and such in iPadOS 26 are great, but after using the public beta for a little while, it’s just a worse implementation of something that’s already really solid – MacOS.
Software Ceiling
Even the best apps on iPad like Photoshop, Logic, Affinity and Notion all feel like lite versions of themselves. That’s partly due to the App Store’s sandboxing model and partly because of Apple’s tight control over what iPadOS is allowed to be. Background tasks are limited. External monitor support is half-baked. Automation is still an afterthought unless you’re a Shortcuts wizard.
And while Stage Manager is a step in the right direction, it’s not enough to make multitasking feel natural. It still feels like you’re being asked to pretend this is a laptop, when it clearly isn’t.
The Long Goodbye
So here I am again: with a beautiful, capable iPad that I barely use. Selling it feels wasteful. Tt’s still a joy to hold and use in short bursts, but I’d be lying if I said it played a meaningful role in my digital life. More than anything, it just clutters things up. It adds another device to charge, update, secure, and think about. And for what? A slightly nicer YouTube experience on the couch?
There’s a good chance I’ll keep it “just in case,” like I always do. But if I’m being honest, it’s time to admit that the iPad is never going to become what I hoped it would be. It’s a gadget I want to love … but not one I actually need.