My wife and I recently experienced what I can only describe as the website from hell.
We needed a replacement part for a piece of domestic equipment. Generic versions were readily available online, and we could probably have ordered one within minutes.
But we decided to do the sensible thing. We'd go directly to the internationally recognised manufacturer, buy the genuine replacement part and have the reassurance that we were getting exactly the right item.
How difficult could that possibly be?
The answer was: over an hour of astonishingly unnecessary difficulty.
Welcome Back to the 1990s
The manufacturer's official retail website looked and behaved as though it had been designed during the early days of the World Wide Web and subsequently forgotten about.
Finding the correct replacement part became an exercise in detective work.
There were no obvious part numbers to help identify what we needed. Even more remarkably, many of the replacement parts didn't have photographs.
This is 2026. Almost every member of staff presumably has a perfectly serviceable camera in their pocket in the form of a smartphone. Surely somebody could spend an afternoon photographing the spare parts?
Instead, customers are apparently expected to look at vague descriptions and hope for the best.
Was this the part we needed?
Possibly.
Did it look like the existing part?
Who knows? There wasn't a photograph.
And Then the Website Threw Me Out
As frustrating as identifying the part was, things became considerably worse.
The website repeatedly threw me out of the search process, forcing me to go back and begin again.
And again.
And again.
I estimate that I had to restart my search at least ten times.
At this point, buying the generic replacement elsewhere was beginning to look extremely attractive. But stubbornness had taken over. I was determined to discover whether it was actually possible to give this company my money.
Eventually, somehow, I reached the checkout.
Surely the nightmare was nearly over?
Not quite.
Apparently I Don't Live at My Own Address
The checkout system decided that I didn't live at my address.
I do.
I've lived there for quite some time.
Nevertheless, the website and I had a fundamental disagreement about the matter.
Then it refused to recognise my telephone number as a valid telephone number.
So, after spending more than an hour trying to purchase a replacement part directly from the manufacturer, I found myself battling an online checkout seemingly determined to prevent the transaction from taking place.
I won't name the company. It is an internationally recognised brand and, frankly, I'll spare its blushes.
But the experience raises a serious business question.
CEOs: When Did You Last Try to Buy Something From Your Own Website?
If you're a managing director, CEO or senior executive of a company selling products online, here's a simple challenge.
Go onto your website as an ordinary customer and try to buy something.
Don't ask the IT department whether the website works.
Don't rely solely on conversion statistics, reports or dashboards.
Actually sit down and use it. Or better yet, get several friends and relatives do also do this.
Search for a product. Find the information you need. Add it to your basket. Enter your address and telephone number. Get all the way to the point where a genuine customer would pay.
You might be surprised by what you discover.
Every unnecessary click, broken search, missing photograph, incomprehensible product description and rejected address is another opportunity for a customer to say: "Forget it."
And unlike us, many of them will.
They'll open another browser tab, visit a competitor and spend their money there.
Your Homegrown System Isn't Sacred
There's sometimes a temptation for businesses to persist with ageing, homegrown e-commerce systems because they've invested years developing them.
But that investment doesn't make a bad customer experience good.
If your online retail operation has evolved into a Byzantine nightmare that only your own staff understand, perhaps it's time to ask whether you really need to keep reinventing the wheel.
Platforms such as Shopify and other established e-commerce providers exist precisely because creating reliable product catalogues, searches, baskets, checkouts and payment systems is difficult.
That doesn't necessarily mean every business should immediately abandon its bespoke platform. It does mean companies should be prepared to question whether their existing technology is actually serving their customers.
Because there's an important point here.
We wanted to buy the company's product.
The marketing had already worked. Brand recognition had worked. Customer loyalty had worked. We had deliberately rejected cheaper generic alternatives because we wanted the manufacturer's genuine replacement.
The company had effectively won the sale.
Then its website did everything it could to lose it.
That's not merely a website problem.
That's a business problem.
And before you ask, yes, writing this post was cathartic!
