Transformation theatre: when digital isn’t enough

Posted on By Mark Wilson

I’m not a frequent flyer. Indeed, I avoid flying if there’s an alternative (like high speed rail) but I’ve had a British Airways account for years – probably over twenty. But, when I tried to log in ahead of today’s flight to Dublin, it seemed to have vanished. My PIN didn’t work, the password reset email never arrived, and WhatsApp customer support confirmed the bad news: my account had been closed.

No problem, I thought – just reopen it. Except I couldn’t. The advisor explained that although the account didn’t exist anymore, my email address was still in their system. To open a new account, I’d need to use a different email address.

I told them that I only have one address. Because, frankly, I shouldn’t need to create another just to fit around their IT quirks.

Eventually, the advisor said they’d request my email be deleted so I could open a new account “after a few days”.

In the meantime, I can still manage my booking using just my surname and booking reference – which always feels worryingly insecure. (Fun fact: behind almost every flight is the SABRE system that dates back to 1964).

When transformation is skin-deep

This is a classic example of where “digital transformation” falls short. The airline has done the visible stuff – shiny mobile apps, chatbots, WhatsApp support – but the underlying customer processes are unchanged.

I can interact through modern digital channels, but I’m still dealing with the same rigid, legacy back-end that can’t handle a simple scenario like reopening a dormant account. The transformation has been cosmetic, not structural.

It’s a reminder that customer experience isn’t about channels; it’s about outcomes. If a customer can’t achieve their goal, no amount of digital polish will make it a good experience.

Joined-up journeys, not disconnected systems

On theme that stood out at DTX London earlier this month was the importance of mapping and managing the customer journey – understanding what customers are trying to do, where friction exists, and how internal processes support (or hinder) that experience.

It’s not enough to build another interface. True digital transformation requires breaking down silos, re-thinking workflows, and aligning systems around real customer needs. If the back-end can’t flex, the front-end experience will always be compromised.

The lesson

In the end, I’m sure my problem will sort itself out – BA will eventually delete my old email record, and I’ll open a new account. But the irony is clear: digital transformation done badly just creates new frustrations through modern channels.

Transformation isn’t about adding apps and chatbots. It’s about re-engineering the processes that sit beneath them so customers don’t end up stuck in digital limbo.

Featured image: created by ChatGPT.

Clients or customers? Why words matter in business relationships

Posted on By Mark Wilson

“We are a professional services company — professional services companies have clients.”

That was the view of one of my former CEOs, Alun Rogers. And for years, I’ve followed suit. Coming from a consulting background, I’ve always used client as the default. It suggests a professional, ongoing relationship. It hints at trust, expertise, partnership — even a touch of formality.

But lately, there’s been a shift. In my current role, the language is changing. After a period of trying to standardise on client, we’re now seeing customer creeping back in — and it looks like customer might win.

What’s in a word?

At first glance, it might seem like semantics. But words shape perception. And in a world of digital transformation, evolving business models, and hybrid service offerings, choosing between client and customer says something about who we are — and how we see those we serve.

Client carries with it a certain professional distance. Lawyers have clients. Consultants have clients. Agencies have clients. There’s an implication of long-term engagement and a service that’s often tailored or advisory.

Customer, on the other hand, feels more transactional — but also more accessible. It’s friendlier. More familiar. Retailers have customers. SaaS platforms have customers. Even the coffee shop down the road has customers (and maybe a loyalty card to keep them coming back).

Are we transactional or relational?

In truth, many of us operate in the blurred space between the two. We want to build trusted, long-term relationships — but we also offer repeatable, scalable services. The classic consultancy model is shifting. Clients are becoming subscribers. Services are being productised. The lines are blurring.

So maybe this isn’t just a linguistic debate. Maybe it reflects something deeper — how we define what we do.

Clients have customers too

Another reason client has felt natural to me is that, in many cases, our clients have customers of their own. We work with them to help improve the service they offer to their customers. It’s a reminder that, in B2B engagements, we’re often one step removed from the end user — but still invested in their success.

Friendlier language in a customer-centric world

That said, there’s a strong case for friendlier language. As organisations focus more on customer experience and ease of communication, customer might simply land better. It feels more inclusive, more human. And if we’re aiming to be more approachable, then customer might be the right fit — even in a professional services setting.

Just don’t expect me to stop saying client overnight.

Featured image: created by ChatGPT

Is this really progress? The downsides of the app economy

Posted on By Mark Wilson

A simple plan goes sideways

I should have just phoned the local taxi company.

But no. I listened to my son — who, to be fair, meant well — and took a modern, app-based approach. “Use Bolt,” he said. “It’s just like Uber. I use it all the time.” And that, it turns out, was the problem.

We’re on holiday in Andalucía, trying to get to a nearby village for dinner. I booked the ride through Bolt, selecting a pickup slot between 17:00 and 17:10. The app stressed the importance of punctuality: we had to be outside on time, or the driver might only wait five minutes before cancelling. Fair enough. So at 16:57 we were all standing by the road, ready to go.

By 17:10, nothing had happened.

Then the app admitted defeat. “No drivers available.” Ride cancelled. “WTF? I booked that hours ago”, thought I.

Platform to nowhere

OK, so Bolt has no drivers and our evening plans are in disarray. So I tried Uber. First, it quotes a price. Then it suggests paying extra to “increase the chance of getting a ride”. You know, because surge pricing and nudging people into premium options is apparently what counts as innovation now. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t work either. After taking my money and several minutes of repeatedly trying to get a driver to take the ride, feasting on my iPhone battery and drinking my mobile data allowance, it finally gave up on the cutesey “sorry about the wait” and admitted that there we no drivers available.

So here we are. No car. No ride. No confidence that we’d even get back if we somehow found our own way there.

I did everything right. I booked in advance. I turned up early. I trusted the system.

And the system is broken.

The slow death of a good idea

This is the very definition of enshittification — the gradual degradation of a service as it prioritises growth, then revenue, then cost-cutting. What starts out as a great user experience slowly turns to dust as the platform corners the market and lets quality slide. First they undercut local businesses, drawing customers in. Then they ration supply, push up prices, and shrug when things go wrong.

Talking with my son about his experience back home, and it seems the traditional minicab firms are fewer and fussier — because they’ve been undercut too. Just like high street shops were when Amazon trained us to expect fast, cheap delivery with no human interaction. And what happens when the competition’s gone? Well, you can guess what happens to the prices and service levels.

App-based everything

It’s not just transport or retail. It’s food delivery, hotel bookings, eBooks, music, even how we consume the news. Everything’s an app. Everything’s global. Everything’s slick — until it isn’t.

And I’m clearly not alone in thinking this. I recently reshared a post on LinkedIn that echoed a lot of my frustrations. From self-checkouts to smart homes, booking travel to banking queries, we’ve been sold the idea that technology makes everything easier. But the pattern seems to be this: companies use technology to reduce their own costs — while shifting the work onto us.

We scan our own groceries. We manage our own bookings. We dig through online portals to find PDFs that digitise our paper records. We chat to bots that often can’t help, and fill in digital forms just to get the most basic of services.

Grumpy Old Man

So yes, I may joke about my Grumpy Old Man Syndrome, but the underlying point stands: just because we can do something digitally, doesn’t mean we should. Especially when the “innovation” really just amounts to taking humans out of the loop and putting consumers to work.

Of course, some people prefer the new ways. Not everyone wants to chat with a travel agent or ring up a cab office. For many, the ability to access data and services 24/7 is empowering.

Progress means keeping options open

But what matters most — and what so often gets forgotten — is that there should still be a choice. Because if everything goes digital with no fallback, we risk excluding those who can’t (or don’t want to) play the app economy game.

Maybe I am just an old man yelling at the cloud (service). But the app-based, gig-driven, digitally transformed economy isn’t always a step forwards. The frictionless experience often hides a lot of pain behind the scenes — for drivers, small businesses, and occasionally, for frustrated tourists standing by a road in southern Europe, hoping the app will work this time.

The world is increasingly run by tech bros in California. And we’re all a little poorer — culturally and economically — for it.

Featured image: created by ChatGPT

Post Script

[14/7/25] Yesterday morning, I walked to the local tourist office. I know, really old school! There, I spoke to a really helpful lady, who advised me on local buses and taxis. We called a central number for taxis in the town — no advanced bookings can be made but the first off the rank came to collect us. And we had our evening in the next village. It was lovely.

Why Net Promoter Score (NPS) might not be the feedback tool you think it is

Posted on By Mark Wilson

Earlier today, I received one of those “tell us how we did” emails from Churchill – the company I’ve used for home insurance for a few years now. Nothing unusual there; we’ve all had them. You can spot them a mile off – always a scale from 0-10 with a “how likely are you to recommend us” type of question. What caught my attention though was the way the feedback was framed and how my neutral score was interpreted as negative. It reminded me (again) why I think Net Promoter Score (NPS) is, frankly, overused and often misused.

What is NPS supposed to measure?

NPS was originally developed by Fred Reichheld at Bain & Company, with the noble aim of predicting customer loyalty based on a single question: “How likely are you to recommend us to a friend or colleague?”. Bain created a system to help companies earn customer loyalty and inspire employees with the idea that this would be a key factor for sales growth. The thinking was: if people are willing to stick their neck out and make a recommendation, they must really rate the product or service.

In theory? Sensible. In practice? Hmm.

A neutral score, treated as negative

I gave Churchill a 5 out of 10. Not because I had a bad experience – in fact, I’ve never made a claim. And that’s the point: I literally can’t rate how good their service is because I haven’t needed it. I pay my premium, they take my money, and (thankfully) we leave it at that. That’s a 5 in my book – neutral.

Apparently not.

Their automated system then asked me, “Why would you be unlikely to recommend Churchill?”. Because, in the NPS world, anything below a 7 counts as a detractor. So my middle-of-the-road score – which in British terms is essentially a polite nod of approval – flags me as someone with a grudge. That’s not only culturally tone-deaf, it’s also wildly misleading.

Cultural bias in customer feedback scoring

Let’s talk numbers for a moment. In the UK, where understatement is practically a national pastime, we rarely hand out 9s and 10s. Those are reserved for the truly exceptional – the sort of experience where someone goes so far above and beyond that we feel compelled to wax lyrical about them at dinner parties. A 7? That’s solid. Respectable. Better than most.

But in the land of NPS, that still doesn’t make you a “promoter”. NPS deems a 7 or an 8 as passive.

The real problem with NPS: it lacks context

This is where Net Promoter Score falls down. It takes a subjective experience and tries to quantify it with a crude scale that lacks nuance. Worse, it lumps “neutral” in with “actively dissatisfied,” which isn’t just lazy analysis – it can lead to poor decision-making.

There’s plenty of research that questions the validity of NPS as a predictor of business success. And its use today often bears little resemblance to the original intent. One such example is from the Journal of the Academy of Marketing Science, in a 2022 paper entitled “The Use of Net Promotor Score (NPS) to predict sales growth: insights from an empirical investigation“. That paper highlights methodological issues in the original research, in the NPS calculation method, and limitations in NPS’ predictive power and scope.

How NPS is misapplied in modern customer experience

NPS was meant to be a long-term loyalty indicator, not a knee-jerk reaction tool after every interaction. Yet these days it’s been reduced to a mandatory field at the end of every customer journey – from buying a sofa to updating your email address.

It’s become a checkbox exercise, often disconnected from the actual service experience. And that’s a shame, because meaningful feedback is still incredibly valuable – when it’s asked for in the right way, and interpreted with care.

We can do better than NPS

I’m not saying all customer feedback is pointless – far from it. Listening to your customers is essential. But let’s not pretend Net Promoter Score is a silver bullet. Context matters. Culture matters. And treating a nuanced response like mine as a black mark against your brand doesn’t do anyone any favours.

So Churchill, if you’re reading: I don’t dislike you. I’m just British.