MyMove Is the US Government’s Shittiest Website
Emilia Rybak, like countless Americans each year, simply wanted to update her voter registration. What should have been a straightforward civic duty morphed into a digital odyssey of frustration, manipulation, and unsolicited advertisements, ultimately revealing a deeply flawed public-private partnership that has become a stain on the U.S. government’s digital services. Her experience, shared by millions, underscores why the website at the heart of this process, MyMove, deserves the title of the US government’s shittiest online portal.
Last fall, as Rybak transitioned her residency from New York to Florida, the initial step in the labyrinthine process of changing addresses and updating records seemed deceptively simple: navigating to the United States Postal Service’s (USPS) Movers Guide website. This seemingly innocuous platform, designed to facilitate a crucial life event, is the gateway to what many describe as a digital trap. Rybak, adept at identifying user experience flaws given her profession as a user behavior research consultant, followed the expected path. She filled out the basic form with her old and new addresses, paid the nominal $1.25 identity verification fee, and then, with a sense of proactive responsibility, checked a box indicating her desire to also update her voter registration.
"I was like, this is definitely the kind of thing that I’m gonna put off or forget about until it’s voting time and I’m gonna be scrambling to do it," Rybak recounted. "This is a perfectly timed option. And why not just do it now through the USPS?" Her logic was sound, aligning with the very purpose such an integrated service should serve: simplifying civic engagement. However, what followed was a stark deviation from any reasonable expectation of a government-affiliated service.
Upon clicking to continue her voter registration update, Rybak was not greeted by a voting form. Instead, she was abruptly redirected to a new website, conspicuously branded with the USPS logo in the bottom corner – a subtle, yet crucial, visual cue designed to maintain a veneer of officiality. This new destination, MyMove.com, immediately plunged her into a relentless gauntlet of unskippable advertisements. "You don’t have to be a [user experience] professional to go through this flow and see that it’s highly unethical," Rybak asserted, capturing the visceral reaction of anyone subjected to such a predatory design.
For over three decades, MyMove, and its predecessors, has held an exclusive contract with the USPS to manage its change-of-address and voter registration services. This arrangement is unique: the government pays nothing. Instead, MyMove generates revenue by charging advertisers for the privilege of inundating movers’ mailboxes and inboxes with promotional materials – whether one perceives them as spam or valuable deals is largely irrelevant to the underlying issue of user manipulation. MyMove then shares these profits with the USPS, or at least, that’s the contractual expectation.
This public-private partnership, conceived in the nascent days of the internet, was once heralded as a beacon of government innovation. Vice President Al Gore himself lauded it in 1997 as a shining example of efficiency and quality, aiming to redefine "good enough for government work" to mean "the very best." Yet, over time, this lauded initiative has metastasized into a government-sanctioned pitfall, notorious for employing deceptive and potentially illegal design practices, commonly known as "dark patterns." These manipulative techniques are engineered to obstruct users from achieving their intended goals, coercing them into clicking unwanted buttons, divulging personal information, and inadvertently agreeing to services they never desired.
The longevity of the MyMove-USPS partnership is perplexing, especially considering its troubled history. In 2023, MyMove and its parent company, Red Ventures, paid a substantial $2.75 million to settle a whistleblower allegation that they had defrauded the USPS. While the settlement did not include a determination of liability, it cast a long shadow over the integrity of their operations. Furthermore, the most egregious aspects of the voter registration website have persisted for years, despite a torrent of scathing online reviews. Users on platforms like Trustpilot have branded MyMove as "a middle-man scam made to steal your info," "useless enshitification of USPS," and "one of the worst experiences I have come across. It’s straight up predatory."
Rybak, having documented her harrowing experience with meticulous screenshots and notes, subsequently filed a complaint with the USPS Inspector General. WIRED independently verified a similar, albeit not identical, workflow when attempting the MyMove voter registration process, confirming the systemic nature of these issues.
Lior Strahilevitz, a University of Chicago Law School professor whose research has demonstrated that aggressive dark patterns can quadruple the rate at which customers sign up for unwanted services, did not mince words. "MyMove is employing a pretty egregious cocktail of dark patterns," he stated. "It’s not the worst I’ve ever seen, but an entity that’s partnering with the federal government shouldn’t be using so many manipulative sales tactics and compromising citizen privacy in that way." A former high-ranking official with the Federal Trade Commission, speaking anonymously due to employer restrictions, described MyMove’s website as "deeply problematic," expressing serious concerns about potential regulatory action. "It’s inherently confusing the way they’re presenting the choices—and it’s easily fixable, but there’s a lot of money at stake here," the former regulator observed, highlighting the perverse incentive structure at play.
The USPS, in its official statement, acknowledged processing 24 million change-of-address requests annually and noted that movers have alternative options beyond MyMove. However, their admission that they are "aware of some customer discontent with the MyMove website" and are "actively working with MyMove to increase transparency and enhance the customer experience" rings hollow for users who have endured years of predatory design.
Rybak’s detailed account provides a chilling walkthrough of the dark pattern "flow." Immediately after completing her change-of-address form on the official USPS website, she was presented with a screen proclaiming, "Next, begin updating your Voter Registration." A checkbox offered to pre-populate the voter registration form with her recently provided information. Crucially, a small, light gray disclaimer next to the checkbox warned that ticking it would transfer her personal contact information to MyMove. Another tiny disclaimer at the bottom of the page cautioned that redirection to MyMove would subject her to MyMove’s privacy policies and terms, not USPS’s. These barely visible disclaimers are a classic dark pattern, designed to be overlooked.
Upon arrival at the MyMove website, the voter registration objective vanished. The first page demanded she "set up your internet in minutes," offering only buttons like "Keep my current service," "Set up new service," or "Get Deals." With no option to skip or proceed to voter registration, Rybak reluctantly chose "Keep my current service," hoping to bypass the ads. This merely led her to another screen, advertising Xfinity plans with options for 1-year or 5-year commitments, or to "Compare Providers" or "Get Deals." Clicking "Compare Providers" only escalated the problem, leading to yet more internet provider advertisements from Spectrum and Verizon, none of which she wanted.
Desperate, Rybak clicked "Get Deals." A disturbingly cheerful header proclaimed, "Emilia, reward yourself for moving!" followed by a barrage of advertisements for home security systems, furniture stores, and pizza. Her only paths forward were a prominent blue button labeled "GET ALL & CONTINUE" or a faint, light blue, barely legible button labeled "Get only selected." In minuscule gray text, the site informed her that her contact information would be shared with any selected advertisers. The crucial option to simply decline all offers and proceed with her original task was conspicuously absent.
Fed up, Rybak attempted to close the browser tab. Before she could, a pop-up materialized: "Don’t go yet! Moving is expensive, so why not save where you can?" Again, she was presented with only two options: "GET ALL & CONTINUE" or "SELECT MY OFFERS." With no escape, Rybak closed the page, abandoning her attempt to register to vote through this convoluted, frustrating, and manipulative portal.
Johanna Gunawan, a computer science and law professor at Maastricht University, identified MyMove’s tactics as textbook dark patterns: presenting ads without an exit, hiding unwanted buttons with subtle text, and redirecting users from their primary goal. What she found most alarming was the context. While users might brace themselves for deceptive design on a commercial shopping site, they certainly don’t expect it when performing a civic duty facilitated by the government.
The aftermath of Rybak’s ordeal was equally revealing. Her email inbox was indeed "topped off" with messages from the very advertisers she had tried to avoid. She also received an email from MyMove, stating that her voter registration was "almost complete," with instructions to print a form, fill it out, and physically mail it to an election office. This begged the question: if physical mailing was the ultimate requirement, what was the actual purpose of MyMove’s digital labyrinth? As it turns out, there appears to be none, if the sole objective is voter registration. MyMove confirmed this in a statement to WIRED, explaining that everyone who begins the online voter registration process receives a "prompt" email with instructions for printing and mailing the form, "independent of whether they choose to engage with any moving related promotional offers." This revelation exposes the MyMove voter registration "service" as little more than a data harvesting and ad-delivery front.
The origin story of this partnership is almost ironic. In the early 1990s, entrepreneur Brett Matthews, alongside his wife Virginia Salazar, formed Targeted Marketing Solutions. They pitched the USPS on a public-private partnership: they would manage the agency’s change-of-address process for free, and in return, USPS would allow them to package coupons and offers from advertisers into physical welcome kits mailed to movers. After years of persistence and navigating government bureaucracy, the pilot launched in 1992, securing an exclusive national contract by 1995. This culminated in Al Gore’s 1997 award, praising it as government reinvention. Matthews recalls their goal was to "make sure they get their service, it’s clear for them front and center, and then they can go on and get some value" from advertisements. The current reality stands in stark contrast to this stated ideal.
The specifics of the USPS-MyMove contract remain shrouded in secrecy. Unlike most government agencies, the USPS claims an exemption to the Freedom of Information Act for its business contracts, citing its competitive operational environment. Consequently, what little is known publicly stems from a 2020 whistleblower lawsuit filed by Marcos Arellano, a former director of operations. Arellano alleged that MyMove and Red Ventures executives deliberately misclassified expenses and revenues to defraud the USPS. His complaint, partially sealed, claims MyMove is responsible for maintaining the Movers Guide website and is only permitted to sell customer data to advertisers after users have navigated away from the official USPS change-of-address page to MyMove’s site – precisely where the voter registration workflow resides. The lawsuit indicated that USPS is guaranteed a minimum annual cut, after which the agency and MyMove split revenue generated by "visitors or abandoners" of MyMove.com. Both USPS and MyMove declined to comment on the contract details.
The increasing scrutiny of regulatory bodies further highlights MyMove’s problematic practices. Last year, the FTC secured a colossal $2.5 billion settlement against Amazon, accusing it of using manipulative design to trick customers into unwanted subscriptions. In 2023, the agency also reached a $245 million settlement with Epic Games, alleging the company used dark patterns to mislead users into making unwanted payments. Beyond the threat of hefty fines, the web design industry itself is realizing that employing aggressive dark patterns severely damages a brand’s reputation and customer trust.
"It’s kind of like a betrayal," says Professor Gunawan, referring to the MyMove experience. This feeling is particularly acute when users perceive a website as an extension of their government. "It messes with my perception of trust because I trust the public institution, and I trust that their contracts are made in the best interest of citizenry."
MyMove, a public-private partnership born of ambitious intent, has devolved into a cynical exercise in user manipulation and data monetization. What began as an innovation to streamline a critical government service has become a predatory platform that actively undermines civic engagement and erodes public trust. Its convoluted design, hidden agendas, and relentless advertising make a mockery of its supposed purpose, solidifying its reputation as the US government’s shittiest website and a stark reminder of the dangers of unchecked commercial interests within public services.
