The streaming world right now feels like a Rubik’s cube that no one wants to solve. Media buyers sit in one corner with their Nielsen GRPs clutched tightly like a teddy bear, while platforms throw every acronym imaginable—CTV, OTT, DSP—into a blender and call it innovation. And the consumer? They’re left wondering why their binge-watching experience comes with more logins than a cybersecurity firm’s employee handbook.

It’s 2025, and despite all the noise about seamless digital ecosystems, we’re still dealing with the same old silos that have plagued the media industry since YouTube first let us watch videos of cats falling off countertops. Agencies keep insisting that “video is video,” whether it’s a 6-second pre-roll on TikTok or a 30-second spot on Hulu, but their actions scream otherwise. They’ve created entirely separate teams for digital ads, TV ads, and social video ads.

And let’s not forget that Newfronts and Upfronts are still treated like competing summer camps instead of part of the same industry.

But it’s not just a media buyer problem—it’s a platform problem, too. The streaming giants are so busy building their walled gardens that they’ve forgotten what consumers actually want: convenience. Instead, they’re serving up a fragmented hellscape. Want to finish the Star Wars saga? Better subscribe to Disney+ for The Mandalorian, hop over to Amazon for The Clone Wars, and, oh, maybe check eBay for a bootleg version of The Holiday Special. It’s absurd.

Let’s Talk About Disney’s Missed Opportunities

Disney+ is the poster child for how siloed thinking hurts both platforms and their audiences. Here’s a company that has mastered the art of selling nostalgia as a business model. Their parks are basically billion-dollar gift shops with roller coasters. Yet, on Disney+, you can’t buy a single piece of merch while watching The Mandalorian. No Baby Yoda plushies, no lightsabers, not even a themed coffee mug. It’s as if Disney’s streaming division forgot that their entire empire was built on making you want stuff.

Imagine watching WandaVision and being able to click a button to buy Scarlet Witch’s iconic headpiece. Or better yet, unlocking exclusive content—say, a behind-the-scenes interview or a new Doctor Strange trailer—by purchasing Marvel merchandise directly within the app. This isn’t rocket science; it’s just good business. And yet, Disney+ remains as disconnected from Disney’s retail ecosystem as a Pixar movie is from reality.

In a half-hearted attempt to bridge this gap, Disney+ launched a limited test in November 2022, offering subscribers special access to merchandise through shopDisney. Subscribers could scan QR codes on select movie and series pages to purchase exclusive items. But let's be real—scanning QR codes to buy a DarkSaber isn't exactly the seamless integration consumers expect in 2023. It's like Disney handed us a flip phone in the age of smartphones.

This siloed approach isn't just a missed opportunity; it's a glaring oversight. Disney has the content, the merchandise, and the devoted fanbase. Integrating shopping directly into Disney+ should be a no-brainer. Instead, they're offering a clunky workaround that feels more like a beta test than a bold move into the future of streaming and commerce.

If Disney doesn't step up and fully integrate e-commerce into Disney+, they're not just leaving money on the table—they're setting the table on fire and wondering why it's burning. It's time for Disney to leverage its ecosystem and give consumers the seamless, interactive experience they crave. Otherwise, they'll be as outdated as a VHS tape in a streaming world.

Meanwhile, Amazon Plays It Too Safe

Over at Amazon, they’ve decided to keep their streaming service, Prime Video, as sterile as an operating room. Yes, they have the tech to integrate e-commerce into your viewing experience—they’re Amazon, for crying out loud. But instead of letting you shop while you stream, they force you to pause The Boys, open a separate app, and hunt for that Homelander action figure on their website. Why? Because they’re terrified of disrupting the “pure” streaming experience. Spoiler alert: the only thing they’re disrupting is their own revenue potential.

This is the same company that figured out how to deliver cat food, an air fryer, and a book about minimalism to your door in two hours flat. Yet somehow, they can’t figure out how to let you click “buy” on a product you just saw in a show? It’s like watching Usain Bolt forget how to tie his shoes before a race.

Amazon’s caution doesn’t just leave money on the table; it undermines their entire brand. This is the company that invented the concept of seamless shopping, yet their Prime Video experience feels like an awkward blind date between streaming and commerce. Integrating shoppable content into Prime Video could turn every binge session into a marketing goldmine—without forcing viewers to leave the couch. Imagine watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and instantly snagging her vintage wardrobe or buying the exact wine glasses she’s holding in a scene. It’s commerce catnip for impulse buyers.

But no, Amazon insists on keeping their retail empire and streaming platform in separate silos, as if audiences haven’t been trained by decades of QVC to want what they see now. If Amazon doesn’t bridge this gap soon, they’re not just missing out—they’re handing competitors like Roku and YouTube a blueprint for how to out-innovate them. For a company that prides itself on disrupting industries, they seem remarkably content to let this opportunity gather dust in their shopping cart.

The Consumer Is Already Ahead

Gen Z? They’ve left the chat. All this nonsense about separating streaming, gaming, shopping, and socializing? Yeah, they’re not here for it. To them, it’s all one big, beautifully chaotic experience. They’ll have Stranger Things streaming on Netflix, Fortnite running on their console, TikTok videos on their phone, and a group chat buzzing on the side—all at once. It’s not multitasking; it’s just how they exist. Silos? They don’t know her.

This generation was born into a unified digital ecosystem where everything flows like one endless scroll. Want to watch a show? Sure. Buy the hoodie the lead is wearing? Absolutely. Text your friend about it while playing a game and planning your next TikTok? Done and done. Gen Z doesn’t see categories; they see connections. They’re not living in little digital boxes—they’re living in a frictionless playground where boundaries between activities don’t even register.

And then there are the platforms. Platforms are like that old guy at the gym still wearing his Walkman, oblivious to AirPods. They’re so busy building walls around their “unique experiences” that they’ve completely missed the memo that consumers don’t care. Streaming versus gaming versus social media? That’s a debate nobody’s having, except for the people running these companies. While Gen Z is blending it all into one seamless vibe, platforms are too busy marking their turf like dogs in a park.

The kicker? These platforms think they’re innovating. They’re not. They’re fossilized. Protecting their little corners of the internet like it’s some Game of Thrones power grab isn’t just shortsighted—it’s suicidal. Gen Z doesn’t have the patience for your clunky “experience switching.” They want to watch a show, buy a product, play a game, and chat—all in one place, without needing seven apps and a tech support hotline to make it happen.

This isn’t a streaming problem or a gaming problem or a social media problem. It’s a failure to realize that Gen Z is already living in 2035, and the platforms are still stuck in 2005. If they don’t figure it out soon, they’ll end up as irrelevant as Blockbuster, trying to sell late fees to a generation that doesn’t even know what they are. So maybe stop building walls and start building bridges, because Gen Z has already moved on—and they’re not coming back.

The Silo Problem Hurts Media Buyers, Too

Let’s not let media buyers off the hook here. The divide between “legacy” TV buyers and “digital” buyers is one of the reasons CTV feels like a middle-school group project gone wrong. Legacy buyers cling to their GRPs and direct deals like they’re clutching grandma’s pearls. Everything is “the way we’ve always done it,” even if it costs their clients more and delivers less. Programmatic channels? Data-driven targeting? Forget it. These folks would rather pay extra to wine and dine the same handful of networks than figure out how a DSP works.

But let’s not pretend the digital buyers are visionaries either. These so-called “innovators” will throw money at a 6-second pre-roll on YouTube and call it a day, even if it’s airing in the middle of a Minecraft livestream with three viewers. Their attitude is often quantity over quality, and they’ll pat themselves on the back for hitting a CPM goal, ignoring whether the ad actually made sense for the audience. It’s like being proud of landing a cheap billboard in the middle of nowhere. Sure, it’s visible—but is anyone looking?

Here’s the truth neither side wants to admit: both are stuck in their own bubbles. Legacy buyers want to protect their cushy relationships with broadcasters, and digital buyers are hooked on the buzzwords—“performance,” “scale,” “data”—without always delivering real value. Meanwhile, the consumer couldn’t care less. They don’t know (or want to know) how the sausage is made. They just want ads that don’t suck. Relevant, timely, and ideally, skippable.

If legacy buyers would stop acting like they’re auditioning for Mad Men, and digital buyers could stop pretending a low CPM is the holy grail of marketing, maybe—just maybe—we’d get somewhere. The key isn’t one side beating the other; it’s both sides figuring out that the consumer doesn’t see a distinction between “TV” and “digital.” Ads are ads, and if you’re not delivering them in a way that makes sense to the person watching, it doesn’t matter what you paid for them.

What’s Next?

The future of CTV has to be about breaking down silos, not building more of them. Imagine a world where your Disney+ subscription gives you access to exclusive Marvel merchandise, where Amazon Prime Video lets you shop for products without leaving the app, and where streaming, gaming, and social media are part of one cohesive experience. That’s where the industry needs to go. But it won’t happen as long as platforms and media buyers keep clinging to their outdated silos.

It’s time to stop thinking about “TV versus digital” or “streaming versus gaming.” The next generation of consumers doesn’t make those distinctions, and if the industry doesn’t catch up soon, it’s going to find itself left behind—like a forgotten Blockbuster membership card in the back of a junk drawer.

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