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If Google Can Break My Pixel, They Can Break Yours

I don’t upgrade phones for better cameras, brighter screens, or to get access to the newest cell networks. I like using my phones until they physically stop working. And my Pixel 4a, bought in December 2020, was functioning fine until Google broke it.

The first week of this year, I got an email about the Pixel 4a Battery Performance Program. Buried in the corporate speak was the real message: Google was going to push a software update to “improve stability,” which in practice meant degrading battery performance. It wasn’t optional. And the “appeasement” they offered: a token fifty bucks, or a hundred dollars in credit at their store. Maybe a battery replacement, if you were lucky enough to find a shop that could do it.

A message from the company that disabled my phone.
A message from the company that disabled my phone.

I spent hours trying. I called half a dozen authorized repair shops in the Bay Area, including Google’s own store in Mountain View, but nobody ever picked up the phone there. The stores that did answer told me not to come in because they didn’t have the parts or hadn’t heard of the program. So I didn’t go. I wasn’t going to factory reset my phone to send it into the void for a week or two either. If Google can’t even answer the phone, why should I trust them to send it back?

Meanwhile, the update rolled out. One day my 4a was lasting nearly a full work day. The next, after normal usage, it dropped to single digits in an hour. It jumped from 30% to 10% without warning, shut off at 20%, and sometimes refused to charge entirely. I took a 30-minute walk with it at 100%, came back, and it was at 70%. The battery indicator became meaningless. I kept Battery Saver on and carried a battery pack everywhere.

Car manufacturers don’t remotely hobble your vehicle when they find a defect — unless it’s a Tesla. They issue a recall and fix it. Google support was no help. Over live chat, email, and phone, I was told that “we only have the same [impractical] options.” I asked for a repair that didn’t involve factory resetting and mailing the phone across the country. No. I asked if someone could help me escalate the issue. No. Eventually, they ended the chat. Google created a problem and then offered to pay me $50 to accept it.

It’s Not the Hardware. It’s Google.

Yes, I bought another Pixel. Not because I trust Google, but because I had no real alternative that fit my needs and budget. At the end of the day, I want a smartphone that works. I stacked credits, trade-in value, the hardware “appeasement” coupon, and cashback. But I’m going back to custom ROMs and flashing GrapheneOS. It’s widely considered the gold standard for privacy and security, and it only officially supports Pixel hardware. It’s not just about privacy; I’ve lost all trust in Google’s version of Android. I no longer trust that a future update of theirs won’t suddenly mortally wound my device remotely. This acquisition wasn’t an upgrade, it was harm reduction.

It’s hard to feel good about sending back a phone that worked fine before Google broke it. I’ll be factory resetting it, but I have no idea what will happen to it. Does it get refurbished? Scrapped for parts? Disappear into a landfill? No transparency.

I’ve owned a couple of Pixel devices. Setting aside the “battery overheating and fire risk"—which led to the forced firmware update, Pixel phones are fine devices if you can get them at a decent price. The hardware isn’t the problem. It’s Google. When a phone that works fine can be nearly bricked one morning, without consent, without meaningful recourse, and without any real customer support, then it’s not really yours anymore.

One of these phones still works.
One of these phones still works.

The experience amplified my cynicism about this company. I had already decided to DeGoogle my life years ago. Gmail had become creepy, Google Search annoying, and the constant tracking intolerable. I had moved away from their services, but this has shown that I can’t give them any quarter in this process. I wish I could use my trusty little Nokia 225 4G for everything. But alas, dumbphones have their limits. And for anyone still depending on Google for their digital life, this should be a wake-up call. Most people won’t flash their phones, and Google knows it. That’s how they get away with it.


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