The Cart, The Card, and the Confusing Click

One little setback is all it takes to turn an everyday moment into a story you just have to tell.

It’s a Saturday morning after payday, and the shops are buzzing with people doing their monthly grocery run. My husband and I had battled through the crowds, dodged rogue trolleys, and finally managed to get everything into our cart. We made about a hundred micro-decisions: low-fat or full cream, the small bag or the one ‘on special.’ By then, we were running on fumes and just wanted to get home and eat.

On the way to the till, we were feeling quite chuffed with ourselves, listing all the specials we’d scored like we were narrating a perfectly curated Instagram reel. That is, until we realised we’d left our pack of loyalty cards at home.

Luckily, that kind of crisis doesn’t hit like it used to. These days, almost every store has an app, so I whipped out my phone, opened the store’s app to grab the virtual card and - boom - savings secured. 

Or so I thought.

It turns out I hadn’t signed in for a while, so the app asked me to verify my account with my date of birth. It sounded simple enough until I got to the input field. Since there were no clues about the format it wanted, I went with what I knew: YYYY/MM/DD. But as soon as I started typing the year, the app auto-formatted after just two digits. Hmm, maybe it needs to start with the day first? Tried that. Still wrong. Try again.

Meanwhile, we’re creeping closer to the front of the queue and panic is setting in. Without this card, all those precious savings are about to evaporate. My husband and I are huddled over my phone like we’re trying to crack a launch code, guessing formats with growing desperation. Each time we get it wrong, the app flashes an error, but it’s the kind that tells you something went wrong without telling you what or how to fix it. No guidance. Just a blinking cursor and our rising blood pressure.

In a final act of desperation, I asked the cashier if we could use an ID number or a cellphone number instead. But alas, the system was offline.

At this point, it felt like all the choices we’d made in the past hour had been for nothing. We reluctantly paid the price, both literally and emotionally, and walked away feeling betrayed by the very system that was supposed to help, not hinder us.

This emotional whiplash, from smug satisfaction to full-blown frustration, was triggered by one thing: a poorly designed screen. It’s a small thing, but it captures exactly what User Experience (UX) is all about. It’s not just about how a screen looks; it’s about how well it supports people in the moments that matter. When the design ignores the person's context, environment, state of mind, and goals, it can unravel everything in an instant. Trust is fragile, and even a slight moment of friction can turn satisfaction into frustration.

But when design is done right, it feels almost invisible. It gives people exactly what they need, when they need it, with no second-guessing and no extra effort. It builds confidence, removes friction, and turns a stressful situation into a smooth one. People walk away feeling supported, not stranded.

Design decisions may seem small, but their impact is deeply human. People don’t show up to your app calm and focused; they arrive mid-errand, exhausted, and just trying to get through their day. That’s why great design isn’t just about what’s on the screen. It’s about meeting people where they are, removing friction when it counts, and quietly making their lives a little easier.