Written by Nicole Webb

I know I’m a bit late to the party, but lately I feel like enshittification is all around me. 

The term, coined by writer Cory Doctorow in 2022 describes the gradual deterioration of digital platforms as the interests of customers are progressively sacrificed in pursuit of other commercial priorities. 

But increasingly, it feels like enshittification has escaped the internet. 

It’s showing up in the everyday customer experience: fewer people, more automation, more friction and an underlying expectation that the customer should do more of the work – while continuing to pay for the privilege. 

I had one of those moments at Coles last night. 

I popped in to pick up a few items and was stopped dead in my tracks by the self-checkout. Apparently, it had caught me on video stealing pimple patches. I did not. What followed was the repeated reviewing of the footage to make absolutely certain I wasn’t a thief. Eventually, I was cleared to continue. But there was no apology. No awkward smile. No “Sorry about that.” 

I’m not that precious. I didn’t need a grand gesture. 

I just wanted a small acknowledgement that the technology had got it wrong and that being treated as guilty until proven innocent isn’t a particularly pleasant customer experience. 

And that’s the point. 

As businesses automate more of the customer journey, the remaining human moments become more important, not less. 

Coles has already removed much of the traditional human interaction from the supermarket transaction. I scan the groceries. I pack them. I pay the machine. And increasingly, the machine watches me doing it. 

If the technology then gets something wrong, the opportunity for a staff member to restore a little humanity to the transaction becomes disproportionately important. 

An apology would have taken three seconds. 

Harris Farm Markets delivers a completely different proposition – beautiful produce, abundant displays and a shopping environment that feels distinctly its own. Yet arrive at the checkout, and suddenly the experience can become transactional. On busy days, customers can find themselves being loudly directed towards the next available register as everyone is moved through as quickly as possible. 

Efficient? Absolutely. But efficiency and hospitality aren’t the same thing. 

And perhaps that’s something businesses need to think much harder about as they pursue productivity, automation and cost reduction. 

Customers don’t experience your operational strategy. They experience moments. 

The person who remembers their name. The employee who looks up and smiles. The ‘sorry about that’ when something goes wrong. Someone walking them to the aisle rather than pointing vaguely towards it. The staff member who makes them feel welcome rather than in the way. 

None of these things cost very much, but collectively they communicate something enormously valuable: 

You matter to us. 

Somewhere between the self-checkout, the chatbot, the QR code, the automated phone menu and the algorithm deciding whether we’ve stolen the pimple patches, we’ve started removing many of the tiny interactions that make people feel seen. 

We talk a lot in communications about trust, reputation, purpose and belonging. But those things aren’t created in a vacuum. They are either reinforced or contradicted every time someone encounters the organisation. 

Sometimes customer service isn’t about solving a major problem; sometimes it’s simply an awkward smile and: 

‘Sorry. The machine got that wrong.’ 

Three seconds.