Apparently, one of the easiest ways to get a better deal from a company is to stop being its customer.

 

Telecommunications providers, streaming platforms, insurance companies, and subscription services frequently offer attractive discounts to new customers. Meanwhile, people who have been paying for the same service for years often receive little more than an occasional price increase.

 

It’s a strange way to reward loyalty.

 

From a business perspective, the logic is understandable. Acquiring new customers is essential for growth, and introductory offers can persuade people to switch from competitors. Existing customers, on the other hand, have already demonstrated their willingness to pay.

 

And that makes them particularly valuable.

 

Switching providers takes time. Customers may need to compare alternatives, transfer information, cancel contracts, or learn how to use a different service. Even when a better offer exists elsewhere, the inconvenience of changing can be enough to keep someone paying more.

 

Businesses understand this.

 

As a result, companies can end up offering their best prices to people who have contributed nothing to their revenue, while charging more to customers who have supported them for years.

 

Of course, promotional pricing isn’t inherently unfair. Discounts can help customers try unfamiliar services, and attracting new buyers is a legitimate business objective.

 

But there’s something questionable about a pricing strategy that effectively penalizes customers for staying.

 

Companies spend enormous amounts of money talking about customer loyalty, building relationships, and creating long-term value. Yet their pricing decisions sometimes suggest that loyalty matters considerably less once it has been secured.

 

Perhaps customers aren’t becoming less loyal to businesses.

 

Perhaps they’re simply learning that businesses don’t always reward them for being loyal in the first place.

The hidden cost of being the cheapest

Low prices are usually presented as a victory for consumers.

Companies compete to offer cheaper products, lower subscription fees, and more affordable services. Customers save money, businesses attract demand, and competition appears to be working exactly as intended.

But low prices don’t necessarily mean low costs.

When a company continuously reduces its prices, something usually has to compensate for the difference. Sometimes that comes from improved technology, more efficient production, or economies of scale. Other times, it comes from somewhere less visible.

Employees may face greater workloads. Suppliers may be pressured into accepting smaller margins. Product quality may decline, customer support may become less accessible, or additional fees may appear elsewhere in the purchasing process.

The customer sees the price. They don’t necessarily see what made that price possible.

This becomes particularly problematic in markets where businesses compete almost exclusively on cost. When customers are unwilling to pay more, companies have limited opportunities to differentiate themselves through quality or service.

Eventually, being cheaper can become more important than being better.

Of course, affordable products are important, and higher prices don’t automatically indicate better working conditions or superior quality. Efficient companies can genuinely provide excellent products at lower prices.

The problem begins when businesses treat price reduction as an achievement without considering what has been sacrificed to accomplish it.

A product isn’t necessarily a better deal simply because it costs less.

Sometimes the difference between a cheap product and an expensive one isn’t how much they cost to produce.

It’s who ends up paying the costs that aren’t included in the price.

Somewhere along the way, businesses discovered that making things complicated can be more profitable than making them better.

 

Consider how many products are sold through subscription tiers, complicated pricing structures, additional fees, and features that require separate purchases. Something that could have been offered as a straightforward product becomes a collection of options that customers have to spend time understanding.

 

Complexity isn’t always accidental.

 

When pricing is difficult to compare, customers struggle to determine which company actually offers the better deal. When cancellation requires several steps, some people simply give up. When a service has five subscription tiers, customers may choose a more expensive option just to avoid missing something they might eventually need.

 

In these situations, complexity works in the company’s favor.

 

This is particularly interesting because businesses constantly talk about improving the customer experience. They invest in user research, interface design, and customer satisfaction surveys, while sometimes maintaining systems that make purchasing, comparing, or leaving unnecessarily difficult.

 

Of course, not all complexity is manufactured. Some products genuinely require different configurations, and offering customers more options can create real value.

 

But there’s a difference between complexity that serves the customer and complexity that serves the business at the customer’s expense.

 

A company that benefits from customers misunderstanding its prices has little incentive to make those prices easier to understand.

 

Perhaps the most revealing question isn’t why businesses make things so complicated.

 

It’s whether they would still make them complicated if simplicity were more profitable.

Nothing makes a product more desirable quite like being told you might not be able to buy it tomorrow.

Limited editions, exclusive collections, countdown timers, invitation-only access, and products that supposedly sell out within minutes have become familiar marketing strategies.

Scarcity creates urgency. When consumers believe an opportunity is disappearing, they become more likely to make quick decisions instead of carefully evaluating whether they actually need the product.

Sometimes scarcity is genuine. Production capacity is limited, materials are difficult to obtain, or a product is intentionally manufactured in small quantities for legitimate reasons.

But in other cases, scarcity is deliberately created to increase demand.

A company might release a small quantity of a product despite having the capacity to produce more. An online store might display a countdown timer that resets when the promotion ends. A brand might repeatedly announce exclusive releases to maintain the impression that its products are difficult to obtain.

The product itself hasn’t necessarily become more useful, better designed, or more valuable. Only the perception surrounding its availability has changed.

This strategy can be particularly effective for luxury goods and fashion, where exclusivity is often part of what consumers believe they’re purchasing.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with limited production or exclusive products. The issue begins when businesses manufacture urgency to replace genuine customer interest.

A good product should be desirable because of what it offers, not simply because someone tells you it’s about to disappear.

If the main reason to buy something is the fear of missing out, perhaps the product was never that valuable to begin with.

Somewhere along the way, entry-level stopped meaning entry-level.

Open a job advertisement today and you might find a junior marketing position requiring three years of experience, advanced analytics skills, graphic design, video editing, copywriting, SEO knowledge, and proficiency in several software platforms.

All for a salary that barely reflects one of those specializations.

The problem isn’t that businesses want qualified employees. It’s that many job descriptions seem to combine the responsibilities of several positions into one supposedly junior role.

Companies describe their ideal candidate rather than the person realistically needed to perform the job. The result is a list of requirements that discourages capable applicants who don’t meet every condition.

This is particularly frustrating for graduates and young professionals. They’re told that education alone isn’t enough, but many of the positions where they could gain experience already require them to have it.

Employers then complain about a shortage of qualified candidates while creating recruitment processes that exclude people with genuine potential.

Of course, smaller businesses sometimes need employees who can handle multiple responsibilities. Flexibility is valuable, and job descriptions should reflect the reality of the position.

But flexibility shouldn’t become an excuse for unrealistic expectations or inadequate compensation.

Businesses need to distinguish between essential qualifications, skills that can be developed, and responsibilities that belong to entirely different roles.

An entry-level position should be an opportunity to enter a profession, not a demand to have already mastered it.

Signing up for a subscription often takes less than a minute. Enter your email, add a payment method, click a button, and you’re done.

Cancelling that same subscription can be a completely different experience.

Suddenly, the process involves multiple pages, confirmation screens, special offers, and questions about why you’re leaving. Some companies even require customers to contact support to complete a cancellation that originally required no human interaction.

This isn’t always an accident.

Subscription businesses depend on recurring revenue, and customer retention is one of their most important performance indicators. Every customer who continues paying contributes to predictable income, even if they barely use the service.

Making cancellation inconvenient can therefore become a profitable strategy.

The practice is often associated with dark patterns, interface designs that manipulate or obstruct users rather than helping them make informed decisions. A cancellation button might be difficult to find, while the option to keep subscribing is prominently displayed.

Companies frequently justify these obstacles as opportunities to improve customer retention. But there’s an important difference between convincing someone to stay by offering genuine value and making it unnecessarily difficult for them to leave.

The irony is that these tactics can damage the very customer relationships businesses claim to protect. Someone who struggles to cancel a subscription is unlikely to remember the company positively.

A business shouldn’t measure loyalty by how many customers fail to escape its cancellation process.

If joining is simple, leaving should be simple too.

Almost every industry has its own awards. Best employer, most innovative company, fastest-growing business, outstanding leadership, excellence in customer service. The list seems endless.

And somehow, an extraordinary number of companies manage to win something.

Business awards are supposed to recognize exceptional performance. In principle, they can help customers identify trustworthy organizations and give deserving businesses recognition for their achievements.

But the business of giving awards deserves some scrutiny of its own.

Some award programs charge entry fees, sell expensive ceremony tickets, offer promotional packages, or require additional payments for marketing materials. While charging fees doesn’t automatically invalidate an award, it raises questions about how commercial incentives influence the recognition process.

There’s also the issue of evaluation. What exactly makes one company the most innovative? How is the best employer determined? Are winners assessed through independent research, measurable results, employee feedback, or simply the information companies submit about themselves?

Without transparent criteria, impressive titles can become little more than marketing assets.

Companies then use these awards in advertisements, websites, recruitment campaigns, and sales presentations, creating an impression of independently verified excellence that may not be entirely justified.

This doesn’t mean all business awards are meaningless. Some have rigorous evaluation processes and genuinely recognize outstanding achievements.

But recognition should be judged by the credibility of the organization granting it, not by how impressive the trophy looks.

Winning an award is easy to advertise. Proving that you deserved it is considerably harder.

Businesses love rewarding loyal customers. At least, that’s how they describe their loyalty programs.

Points, discounts, membership levels, exclusive offers, and personalized rewards are presented as ways of thanking customers for their continued support. But these programs serve another purpose that companies are considerably less enthusiastic about advertising.

They are designed to influence behavior.

A customer who needs to spend another €20 to unlock a reward may purchase something they never intended to buy. Someone who has accumulated thousands of points with an airline might choose a more expensive flight simply to avoid losing the perceived value of those points.

This is particularly interesting because the reward often feels like something the customer has already earned. Instead of evaluating each purchase independently, people begin considering what they might lose by choosing a competitor.

Loyalty programs also provide businesses with valuable information. Every scanned membership card can reveal purchasing habits, preferences, frequency, and spending patterns. This information helps companies personalize offers, forecast demand, and encourage additional purchases.

None of this means loyalty programs are inherently bad. Customers can genuinely save money, and businesses benefit from stronger relationships with repeat buyers.

But there’s a difference between rewarding loyalty and manufacturing it through incentives.

Real customer loyalty should come from consistently delivering a product or service worth returning for.

If customers only stay because they’re afraid of losing their points, perhaps they aren’t loyal to the business at all.

Some of the most valuable digital services in the world are available without an upfront payment. Search engines, social media platforms, email services, and countless applications offer users access to sophisticated technology for free.

But free doesn’t mean a business isn’t making money from you.

Many digital platforms operate through advertising, data collection, or business models built around user engagement. The longer people remain on a platform, the more opportunities it has to display advertisements, collect behavioral information, and influence purchasing decisions.

This creates an interesting conflict of interest. A platform that earns revenue from attention has a financial incentive to keep users engaged, even when spending more time on the service provides little additional value to them.

Recommendation algorithms, endless scrolling, and constant notifications aren’t necessarily designed exclusively to improve the user experience. They can also support the company’s commercial objectives.

Of course, advertising-supported services have made technology accessible to billions of people. Not everyone can afford paid subscriptions, and free access has genuine economic and social benefits.

The problem arises when consumers don’t understand the exchange they’re participating in.

Traditional transactions are relatively transparent. A customer pays a price and receives a product. With free digital services, the exchange is more complicated because the economic value of attention and personal information isn’t immediately visible.

A product can be free to use and still be extremely profitable.

The important question isn’t whether you’re paying for it, but what the company receives in return.

In theory, career advancement should depend on performance, expertise, and the value an employee brings to an organization. In practice, the ability to appear competent can sometimes be just as important as actually being competent.

Consider two employees. One consistently delivers excellent work but rarely speaks about their achievements. The other performs reasonably well but confidently presents ideas, participates in meetings, and makes sure management notices every contribution.

Who is more likely to receive a promotion?

Managers don’t have perfect information about everyone’s performance. They rely on impressions, communication, visibility, and recommendations. This creates an environment where confidence can be mistaken for capability.

The problem becomes particularly visible in leadership positions. Someone who speaks convincingly may be perceived as a natural leader, even without the knowledge or judgment necessary to make good decisions. Meanwhile, quieter employees may be overlooked despite having stronger technical abilities.

Of course, communication and self-confidence are valuable professional skills. Leaders need to explain decisions, persuade others, and take responsibility. But these qualities should complement competence, not replace it.

Organizations that reward visibility more than results risk promoting the people who are best at presenting their work rather than those who are best at doing it.

Being able to convince people you’re good at your job is a skill. It just shouldn’t be confused with being good at your job.