AMPocalypse Now
Big stories usually begin with big events. But sometimes, the even bigger ones start with tiny mistakes. Mine began with… a notification:
AMP error.
5xx
“Your page is not functioning.”
Again?
As countless times before, Google poked me with its usual “calm down and fix this or we’ll move you to a less comfortable room” attitude. And that minimalism is what everyone fears the most.
I open the page — it works.
I open an article — it works.
I open another article — still works.
Hmm… Turns out there was no error, and I hoped Google would be satisfied with that result too.
Still, I couldn’t shake the thought: “Why would someone display content but not the links to it? Not even try? Gratitude among reasonable beings doesn’t cost money.”
After a 0.3 shot of something strong and a spark of creativity, I solved the limited‑access issue to my own property in a technically elegant way. AMP would now show only as much content as I decided to share. For more, the user had to click a button.
As it should be.
MEANWHILE IN IRELAND — GOOGLE HQ, AMP DIVISION
Analyst 1 (bursts into the room like the ceiling is on fire): “Sir! He… restricted our access!”
Manager (without lifting his gaze): “Which ‘he’?”
Analyst 1: “That one. The problematic one.”
Manager (still not looking up): “Which problematic one?”
Analyst 1: “The one who built us a Mailbox and sent us to a FAQ he wrote specifically for us!”
Manager (long sigh): “Oh no… not him… What did he do this time?”
Analyst 3 (holding a paper, trembling): “Sir… I read his AMP article.”
Manager: “And?”
Analyst 3: “I don’t understand any of it.”
Manager (finally looks up): “Excellent. That means it’s professional.”
Analyst 2 (quietly): “Sir… I understood one part.”
Manager (horrified): “Which part?”
Analyst 2: “The part where he says AMP is… unnecessary.”
Manager: “NO! We do not say that out loud!”
Legal Director (enters like a cold shadow): “Who mentioned… unnecessary?”
Analyst 3: “No one, ma’am! Only professionalism!”
Legal Director: “Good. Because if anyone understands AMP, then we have a problem.”
Analyst 2: “What do we do?”
Manager (rolls eyes, frowns): “Send him an error notification.”
Analyst 1: “But sir… the system shows no error. Because it’s not actually an error.”
Manager: “It’s an error if we say it is.”
BACK IN MY GALAXY, IT SMELLED LIKE RELAXATION
I had just brewed a calming lemon balm tea when a new message arrived:
New AMP error.
5xx
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Before the tea even cooled, I decided to fix the issue once and for all. I even felt a bit guilty — as if Google was getting scared of its own shadow because of me. And since this was the thousand‑something alert about the same error, I approached the task with full seriousness.
After all, work is time.
Time is money — for someone else, a cost.
No one wants that.
My investigation showed the problem wasn’t just technical — it was also legal. And once again, the issue wasn’t on my side.
Namely:
- my page worked,
- the cloned version of my page on their server did not,
- access to their copies of my content was intermittently unavailable.
I had never been more certain: the AMP plugin had to go.
CLICK [deactivate AMP]
MEANWHILE IN IRELAND, LIGHTS WERE OVERHEATING
Analyst 1: “Ma’am… he says we’re disturbing him with errors.”
Legal Director: “Us? Disturbing? We don’t disturb. We inform.”
Analyst 2: “Ma’am… he says we’re causing him work.”
Legal Director: “Work is good. Work means he’s cooperating.”
Analyst 3: “Ma’am… he says work is a cost.”
Legal Director (icy tone): “A cost? For whom?”
Analyst 3: “For… him.”
Legal Director: “I don’t understand. Why would the cost be on his side? We’re the ones with the infrastructure.”
Analyst 1: “Ma’am… he removed AMP.”
Everyone: “WHAT?!”
Legal Director: “Completely. The plugin is gone.”
Analyst 3: “Ma’am… his site works better now.”
Legal Director: “Do not say that. That is not possible.”
Analyst 2: “Ma’am… he says we’re pretending.”
Legal Director: “Pretending? That’s a legally sensitive term. Let’s call it… creatively interpreting responsibility.”
Manager: “Ma’am… what should we do?”
Legal Director: “Same as always. Ignore him. He is problematic.”
Analyst 2 (quietly): “Ma’am… is it possible that we’re the problematic ones?”
Legal Director: “No. We are Google.”
I’m fascinated by the fact that Google, despite all its seriousness, still manages to show a certain playfulness. The most charming part is that it refuses to give up its favorite game at any cost: “We made the mistake, therefore you will fix it.”
At first, I really tried. I tolerated it, cooperated, stayed patient — I only slightly closed the window. Like a person who shuts the window because the neighbor is yelling over the fence.
But they didn’t stop.
The errors kept coming. The alerts kept flying in. Each one more panicked than the last. As if someone texted me every 15 minutes: “Hey, your house is on fire!”
…while it was actually their copy of my house burning — the one they built without permission.
And at some point, enough is enough.
Once again:
Work is a cost.
Cost is money.
Money is mine.
The mistake is theirs.
And that’s why it was necessary to do what I should have done long ago: remove the disruptive factors.
And then something happened — something Google neither predicted nor acknowledged.
My site started working better!
When I removed AMP, I felt something I had almost forgotten: freedom. Not absolute freedom, but definitely more freedom. And this was only the beginning.
The site worked better.
The alerts went silent.
Google was confused.
And I was… calm.
At that moment, I didn’t yet know that this was the first step toward the day when Google would say: “If you don’t play by our rules… we will no longer see you.”
But that is already the next episode.
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