It was one of those little domestic moments that tells you everything you need to know about the modern British service industry. I was visiting my parents, both octogenarians, both long past being able to bother looking for anything, when an envelope from the AA fell on the doormat. My mother opened it with the slight suspicion that all letters now require, only to find the annual renewal notice for her breakdown insurance.
“Two hundred and sixty pounds thirty-eight,” she said, frowning as if it were a medical diagnosis. “Although this is apparently cheaper than last year – it was £280.25 – and they gave us a discount of £107.25.” She seemed calm, and that’s exactly what the AA likes.
Then a bold line caught my eye: “Thank you for your 64 years of loyalty.”
Sixty-four years! That’s longer than most marriages, and certainly longer than AA Insurance’s call center employees have been alive. My stepfather has been a paying customer since the Beatles played in Hamburg. If loyalty were a virtue that the AA truly valued, he would have a gold card, a free tow truck and a man in a yellow jacket permanently stationed outside the house.
But no. The letter was a masterpiece of corporate duplicity – a thank-you note wrapped in a quiet mugging. £260.38 for a service that, as it turns out, you could get for a third of the price if you knew where to look.
Being the dutiful son I was (and honestly unable to resist a little consumer sleuthing), I booted up the laptop. Three minutes later I had an offer on the AA website for exactly the same envelope: £97.64. “Introductory offer,” it said. “Full price £162.43.”
So £97.64 for a new member or £260.38 for a 64 year old customer. You don’t need a degree in behavioral economics to see what’s going on here. The so-called renewal “discount” was a magic trick: look at that £107 discount! – while your wallet quietly disappears.
It’s a hoax, dressed up in the polite language of British customer service. And my parents, like so many others of their generation, would have paid for it. Because that’s exactly what loyal customers do. You trust. They assume that after six decades of on-time pay and polite correspondence, they are entitled to fairness. But in the world of modern subscriptions and annual renewals, loyalty isn’t rewarded, it’s monetized.
The British have always had a sentimental attachment to loyalty. We like to believe that staying with the same insurer, bank or utility means something. It’s a remnant of the post-war mentality where you had your husband from the Pru, your bank clerk and your AA account. You stayed with them and they took care of you.
But this social contract has long since been torn apart. Loyalty is now seen as a sign of weakness. Companies like the AA rely on inertia and assume that most customers, particularly older people, will simply renew the number provided on the letter.
Meanwhile, the marketing department invests its energy in advertising to the newbies, the fickle, the flighty, the ones who take their “introductory discount” for a year, cancel at renewal, and start over at a different email address. The entire business model has become a revolving door of introductory offers and loyalty penalties.
Of course it’s not just the AA. Every industry plays the same game. Broadband providers, insurers, even the streaming platforms. The longer you stay, the more you pay. It’s a perverse reversal of what loyalty once meant. It’s like paying extra for ordering the same pint every night at your local.
What’s really annoying is how clever this all is. The renewal letters are written to sound reassuring, trustworthy, and even a little fatherly. They thank you for your customer satisfaction, list your “discounts,” and make vague references to “extended coverage” that you probably never asked about. They’re hoping you’ll take a look at the total, shrug your shoulders, and write the check.
In my parents’ case, it was only luck or childish curiosity that prevented them from being charged nearly three times the insured value. And there is something morally wrong with that. It’s one thing to overwhelm the inattentive; It’s quite another to quietly exploit a generation that built your company in the first place.
Imagine if the AA sent out a letter saying, “Dear Mr. Well, that would be loyalty. But that would of course mean a voluntary foreclosure of profits. And in the boardroom logic of contemporary Britain, this is heresy.
There’s a broader moral here for all companies, especially those that like to brag about their heritage. True loyalty is based on mutual respect and not on tricking your oldest customers into overpaying.
We are entering an era where trust is the scarcest commodity. Consumers are smarter, angrier and far less forgiving than they used to be. Social media means that a story about a retiree charging too much can go viral in a matter of hours. And yet the temptation to lure existing customers is irresistible – it’s easy to make sales and rarely makes the headlines.
But brands that behave this way are mortgaging their reputations for short-term gains. Because as soon as people get involved, which they inevitably do, the damage is irreversible. Sixty-four years of loyalty can disappear in sixty-four seconds.
I ended up canceling my parents’ extension and re-enrolling them. The process took less time than boiling in the kettle. My mother was thrilled. My stepfather, ever the gentleman, just shook his head. “So much for loyalty,” he said.
Quite. The AA might get them back on the road if the car breaks down, but when it comes to customer loyalty, it’s the company itself that’s stuck on the hard shoulder – the hazard lights flashing, the engine sputtering and wondering where all its goodwill has gone.
We contacted the AA for a response and an AA spokesperson said: “Our prices reflect the service offered. The price for new members is discounted but does not offer the same member benefits.”
“We would welcome the opportunity to speak to this member to look at their renewal and find out what they compare it to online.” My response to that: “Sorry, AA,” but it’s exactly the same service for exactly three times the cost.
