Some evenings are made for survival. It was far too hot to even think about cooking, so I ordered a pizza and strolled into my local Willys while it baked. Just a quick grocery run. Apple juice, maybe a tub of Ben & Jerry’s if the stars aligned
And they did — but only for members. The ice cream and juice were both on offer… if I signed up for Willys Plus.
Willys Membership: A Bureaucratic Mess
To access the member price, I was expected to:
- Download the Willys app
- Fill in my personal details
- Confirm the whole thing with BankID
- Then walk over to the cashier and present physical ID to activate the offers
No shortcut. No counter registration. No human option.
I politely asked the cashier if there was a faster way — perhaps registering with my driver’s license like in other stores. She didn’t even flinch.
“No. This is better.”
Better for whom? Certainly not for the customer.
They Put My Groceries on Hold — Then Put Me on Ice
Before I could blink, the cashier paused my entire purchase. She stopped scanning, left my groceries stranded mid-process, and gestured vaguely toward the digital void.
“Come back when you’re done,” she said, with all the warmth of a vending machine.
No QR code. No help. No offer to assist.
Just me, standing in the corner of a discount supermarket, fumbling with my phone like I was trying to break into NORAD — while the staff leaned on the counter and stared into the middle distance.
This wasn’t just bad UX. This was a customer experience designed to be hostile.
Overpaid, Underengaged, and Proud of It
Let’s be honest: the real issue here isn’t just the tech. It’s the culture.
Willys has staffed its stores with people who have absolutely no incentive to offer service — because they don’t need to. They’re well-paid enough to be comfortable, but not inspired. No spark, no pride, no reason to care whether I leave with groceries or with a migraine.
This is what happens when indifference becomes policy.
When being helpful isn’t required, and showing basic human decency is viewed as optional — or worse, inconvenient.
I’m Done
So no – I won’t be downloading your app. I won’t be treated like a walking barcode with a credit score. I won’t be told to “go fix yourself” while someone collects a salary to stand and watch.
Willys wants my data, but not my presence. And they’ve made it abundantly clear that they couldn’t care less whether I feel welcome or not.
I’ll shop at Coop instead — where service still means something, and dignity isn’t locked behind a login screen.
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