Last month a design lead showed me their adoption metrics dashboard. Figma library: 97% connected. Component usage tracked across 47 teams. Monthly reports with color-coded progress bars trending green like a very healthy plant.

“Fantastic adoption,” they said, clicking through to a slide about governance wins.

“Can I see your team’s Slack?” I asked.

They hesitated. That’s when I knew.

Private channel: “#design-system-workarounds.” 347 messages. Developers sharing CSS overrides. Designers posting “technically compliant” components that looked nothing like the library. Front-end leads explaining which system rules could be safely ignored. One recurring thread: “How to make it look like we’re using the system when we’re definitely not.”

The dashboard said 97% adoption. The Slack channel said they’d built a second, secret design system specifically to avoid the first one.

High adoption metrics don’t mean your design system works. They mean people installed it. Like downloading an app you used once and forgot existed, except the app cost nine months to build and someone’s measuring its success by checking if it’s still on your phone.

The Adoption vs. Usage Gap

Design system metrics measure compliance, not value. I figured this out by accident after auditing three “successful” systems that made everyone quietly miserable.

System A (Enterprise SaaS, 18 designers, 30 developers):

Figma library connected: 100% of design team (perfect score!)
Components actually used as designed: maybe a third, probably less
Developer survey response to “Do you prefer system components”: 6 out of 30 said yes
Time spent per week unfucking system-compliant code that broke: “too much” (direct quote from survey)

The component library had 140 components. Developers consistently used 12. The rest existed in Figma looking very organized while everyone built custom solutions.

System B (Fintech):

Documentation site: 2,400 page views per month (they celebrated this in all-hands)
Components implemented correctly without modification: didn’t track, but I’d guess 40%
Secret “Component Fixes” wiki: 89 pages of workarounds
Most-visited doc page: “How to Override Base Styles” (visited 4x more than actual component docs)

They were reading docs to figure out how to work around what the docs said to do. The second most popular page was the CSS variables reference, which everyone used to rebuild components from scratch while technically importing them.

System C (The one that broke me):

Library adoption: 92% (management loved this number)
Components genuinely reused: unclear, possibly 30%, probably less
Developer happiness with system: averaged 3.2/10 on anonymous survey
Engineers who joined the #design-system-workarounds channel: literally all of them, including the ones who built it

The pattern repeated: high adoption numbers, low actual usage, everyone pretending the numbers meant something.

When Metrics Became Marketing

Design systems track:

Library connections (did they install it?) Documentation views (did they open the page?) Component “usage” (does it appear somewhere in the codebase?) Figma file activity (did someone click on it?)

None of these measure whether anyone’s life got better.

Measuring design system success by library connections is like measuring software success by counting downloads, not daily active users. Or tracking how many buttons exist on your interface instead of whether users click them. Installation doesn’t equal value. It just means someone said yes to the popup.

What we actually need to know:

Does it take less time to use the system than build custom? Real answer from last survey: “God no, but we have to use it anyway.”

How do developers feel about it after six months? Month 1: 67% positive (everything’s new and optimistic!) Month 3: 45% positive (the limitations are becoming clear) Month 6: 23% positive (workarounds are now standard practice) Adoption dashboard at Month 6: still shows 92% (nobody uninstalled anything)

How much does each “reused” component actually cost? Rough math: 8 hours to build + 4 hours to document + ~12 hours answering “how do I…” across three different developers + ongoing maintenance + the governance meeting where we argued about button sizing for 45 minutes.

Times genuinely reused without modification: three.

Meanwhile building one custom button: 45 minutes.

But we don’t track this math. We track installations, because installations always go up. Value is messier, harder to quantify, and trends toward “maybe this wasn’t worth it.”

The Adoption Tax Nobody Calculates

The real cost isn’t building the system. It’s the permanent overhead of pretending it works.

Monthly cost of “adoption success” (rough estimates, your mileage may vary but probably won’t):

Design system team: Two full-time people, ~$25K/month 

Weekly "office hours" where people ask why components don't work for their use case: 4 hours × 2 people × 4 weeks, maybe $5K 

Monthly "adoption wins" review meeting: 12 people, 2 hours, nobody admits the truth 

Quarterly governance committee to discuss whether buttons should have 8px or 12px padding: 6 people, 4 hours, one eventual breakdown 

Slack support answering the same questions the docs supposedly cover: constant, soul-crushing, hard to quantify 

Documentation updates explaining why the system doesn't work for [specific case]: ongoing
____
Rough monthly overhead: somewhere between $35K-40K Annual: let's call it $400K-$450K in adoption theater

Let’s check that math: 30 developers × 40 hours/week × 40% efficiency = 480 hours saved per week 480 hours × $80/hour = $38,400/week Annual savings (theoretical): $1.9 million

Sounds great! Ship it!

Actual developer survey after six months: 
"This system saves me time": 18% agree 
"This system costs me time": 61% agree
"This system is fine I guess": 21% (lying to be polite)

When you ask people to estimate time saved: negative numbers, mostly.

The adoption metrics show success. The math shows we’re spending $450K annually to make 61% of developers less productive. The dashboard stays green because we’re measuring installation, not misery.

The Project That Taught Me Green Dashboards Lie

Three years ago I helped build a design system for a B2B SaaS company. Enterprise product, 200+ screens, 8 teams, “desperately needed consistency” according to everyone who had an opinion, which was everyone.

Nine months to build. Beautiful component library. Documentation that actually explained things. Accessibility baked in. Tokens that made sense. Every pattern tested. I was proud of it.

Launch metrics looked perfect:

• Week 1: 73% adoption
• Month 1: 89% adoption
• Month 3: 92% adoption
• Component usage: 67%
• Design team NPS: 8.2/10

Management loved it. Design leadership used it in presentations. I got a bonus.

Three months after launch, I was helping a developer debug a production issue. While we were looking at the code, I noticed something weird—he’d imported our Button component but then rebuilt the entire thing with custom styles.

“Why not just use the component?” I asked.

“Oh, I do use it. Technically. For the tracking.”

That’s when he showed me the Slack channel.

Private channel: #design-system-workarounds. Created Week 3 after launch. All 47 engineers in it. 300+ messages.

Scrolling through was uncomfortable:

“ButtonPrimary import + complete style override = tracking happy”
“Modal breaks inside tabs, fix: [10 lines of CSS]”
“Table component maxes out at 10 columns lol, use custom”
“Which designers enforce compliance vs. which ones look the other way”
“Adoption wins email = Friday, practice your poker face”

The channel had categories. Pinned workarounds. A running list of “components that don’t work” with fixes. Someone had built a better version of our spacing system because ours “didn’t account for real layouts.”

I asked why tracking showed 67% component reuse.

“We import them. We just don’t use them how you designed. The tracker counts imports, not whether the code actually works. Import it, rebuild it, dashboard stays green, everyone’s happy.”

That’s what 92% adoption meant: 92% of people had imported the library. Maybe 30% actually used components as designed. The rest were doing performance art for the metrics.

The real numbers from that system:

Components used exactly as designed: maybe 30%, optimistically 
Components imported but completely rebuilt: most of them 
Custom components built because the system didn't cover it: enough that someone made a "Shadow System" folder 
Design hours enforcing compliance: more than we spent building the thing 
___
Annual cost of looking successful while being useless: didn't calculate it, was too depressed

The system wasn’t broken. The components worked in Figma. The documentation was clear. The problem was we’d built a solution for “consistency in design tools” instead of “helping developers ship faster.”

We’d optimized for beautiful component libraries and adoption dashboards instead of whether using the system was obviously better than not using it.

If your design system needs adoption metrics to prove it works, it doesn’t work.

Our system needed adoption strategies, governance committees, and office hours because using it was worse than building custom. The metrics just let us pretend otherwise.

What I Learned About System Adoption

Design system adoption isn’t a measurement problem. It’s a value problem dressed up with dashboards.

If your system needs adoption strategies, evangelism programs, governance committees, usage tracking, weekly office hours, mandatory training, compliance enforcement, and quarterly success reviews—your system isn’t solving problems, it’s creating them.

The adoption paradox I see everywhere:

High adoption + Low satisfaction = Forced compliance, secret workarounds Low adoption + High satisfaction = Good tool, bad distribution
High adoption + High satisfaction = Either genuinely useful or you’re measuring wrong

Most design systems land in category one. Installed everywhere because someone senior mandated it. Hated quietly because complaining is politically complicated. Metrics look fantastic because metrics measure compliance, not whether anyone would choose this if they had options.

Kind of like building features users need a map to find—existence doesn’t equal value, but at least you can track that it exists.

Why Adoption Strategies Fail

If you need an adoption strategy, you’ve already lost.

Good design systems get adopted because they’re obviously better:

• Faster than building custom
• More flexible than rigid
• Better documented than confusing
• Easier to customize than to avoid

Bad design systems get “adopted” because:

• Management mandated it
• Dashboards look good in quarterly reviews
• Nobody wants to be the one who admits failure
• The real cost is hidden in developer Slack channels
• Success is measured by installation, not satisfaction

The adoption strategy doesn’t solve the value problem. It markets the mandate. It’s why we track library connections instead of developer happiness, measure usage instead of preference, report adoption percentages while ignoring the workaround wiki that gets more traffic than official docs.

The Metric That Actually Matters

Want to know if your design system works?

Don’t check the dashboard. Check the Slack channels.

If there’s a #workarounds channel, you’ve failed. If developers share “how to avoid the system while appearing compliant” tips, you’ve failed. If “technically uses components” code is everywhere but nobody’s using them as designed, you’ve failed.

The dashboard might show 92% adoption. The workaround channel tells you it’s actually 30% real usage with 62% creative avoidance.

If “relieved” wins by a lot, your adoption metrics are lying. You’ve built something that looks successful in PowerPoint while costing real productivity in practice.

(Like marketing websites with perfect metrics but failing conversion—measuring everything except whether you’re helping anyone.)

The Hard Truth About Design System Success

Most design system metrics measure the wrong thing: installation instead of value, compliance instead of preference, existence instead of usefulness.

We track adoption because adoption always trends up. We avoid tracking satisfaction because satisfaction trends down. We celebrate component reuse rates while ignoring that “reuse” often means “imported the file then rebuilt it completely.”

The adoption dashboard shows green. The developer satisfaction survey shows red. We report on the dashboard and file the survey under “areas for future improvement.”

Real design system success looks like:

Developers prefer your components over building custom (check behavior, not surveys) Using the system genuinely saves time (measure real time, not projected ROI)
Teams are satisfied, not just compliant (anonymous feedback only, people lie to protect careers) You could delete 80% of components without anyone noticing (probably true, definitely uncomfortable)

If your adoption metrics look incredible but your developers look exhausted and you just discovered a workaround Slack channel with 100% membership—your system isn’t working.

The metrics are lying. The dashboard is theater. The adoption strategy is expensive distraction from a fundamental value problem.

One number tells you everything: developer preference over time.

If it declines while adoption increases, you’ve built something nobody wants but everyone’s forced to use. No amount of adoption strategy fixes that.

The dashboard will keep showing green, though. So there’s that.