The Challenge Of Ordering
When Convenience for Some Becomes a Barrier for Others
What if you don’t have a smartphone? What if you don’t know how to use an app? What if technology, supposedly designed to make life easier, is actually making your life more difficult?
Welcome to the modern world of ordering, where convenience has become a requirement, technology has replaced personal service, and those who cannot keep up are increasingly being left behind.
Not so long ago, ordering something was relatively simple. You walked into a restaurant, looked at a menu, spoke to a person, and placed your order. If you wanted something delivered, you picked up the telephone. If you wanted to purchase something from a store, you could speak with a salesperson who would help you find what you needed.
Today, things are different.
Want to order a meal? Download our app.
Want to see the menu? Scan the QR code.
Want to take advantage of a special offer? You need an account.
Want to order groceries? Go online.
Want to pay? Use your smartphone.
Want to speak to a real person? Good luck!
But what if you can’t?
What if you don’t own a smartphone, tablet, or computer?
What if you cannot afford the latest technology or the monthly cost of an internet connection?
What if you have a smartphone but lack the technical knowledge to navigate an endless collection of apps, passwords, verification codes, and online accounts?
What if you have a disability that makes using these devices difficult or impossible?
What if the app itself is not accessible?
And perhaps the most important question of all: Why should any of these circumstances prevent someone from ordering a meal, purchasing groceries, or accessing an essential service?
The Forgotten Customer
Consider the senior who has lived independently for decades, who has managed a household, raised a family, worked, paid taxes, and contributed to society.
This person may be perfectly capable of deciding what to order for dinner but may not understand how to download an app, create an account, remember another password, or navigate an unfamiliar website.
Does that make this person less deserving of service?
Of course not.
Yet increasingly, the message seems to be that if you cannot adapt to technology, you must simply do without.
Now consider someone who is blind or has low vision. A restaurant may proudly announce that its entire menu is available through a QR code. But what happens when the resulting website does not work properly with a screen reader?
What about someone with limited hand mobility who cannot easily operate a touchscreen?
What about someone with a cognitive disability who finds complicated ordering systems overwhelming?
What about someone who is deaf or hard of hearing and encounters a system that requires a telephone call to resolve a problem, without offering an accessible alternative?
And what about the person who simply isn’t comfortable with technology?
When did being a customer require becoming a computer expert?
Convenience for Whom?
Businesses frequently promote digital ordering as faster, easier, and more convenient.
And for many people, it certainly is.
There is nothing inherently wrong with technology. Apps can be wonderful tools. Online ordering can save time, provide independence, and make services more accessible when properly designed.
For some people with disabilities, digital services have opened doors that were previously closed.
But there is a fundamental difference between offering technology as an option and making it the only option.
When a business eliminates traditional ordering methods, it may be improving efficiency for itself while creating unnecessary obstacles for its customers.
A restaurant may save money by replacing printed menus with QR codes. A retailer may reduce staffing costs by directing customers to an app. A company may streamline operations by eliminating telephone ordering.
But who pays the price for that efficiency?
Often, it is the person who needs assistance the most.
We are told that technology is supposed to remove barriers. Yet in some cases, we are using technology to build entirely new ones.
The Endless App Epidemic
There is another issue that deserves attention.
Why does practically every business believe it needs its own app?
One app to order coffee.
Another to order a hamburger.
Another to buy groceries.
Another to make a medical appointment.
Another to pay for parking.
Another to purchase a ticket.
Another to access a discount.
And each one comes with its own requirements, updates, passwords, notifications, and occasional technical problems.
How many apps should a person reasonably be expected to manage simply to participate in everyday life?
What happens when an app stops working?
What happens when an operating system is no longer supported?
What happens when a password is forgotten, an account becomes locked, or a verification code never arrives?
What happens when the internet goes down?
Suddenly, a simple transaction becomes an exercise in frustration.
And when customers ask for assistance, they may be told to visit a website, consult an online help centre, or communicate with an automated chatbot.
Whatever happened to simply speaking with another human being?
Accessibility Is Not a Luxury
Accessibility should never be treated as an optional feature or an afterthought.
It is not enough for a business to say that its services are available online. Those services must also be usable by people with different abilities, needs, and levels of technological experience.
An app that cannot be navigated by someone using assistive technology is not truly accessible.
A website that requires complicated steps without offering assistance is not necessarily user-friendly.
And a business that refuses to provide an alternative to digital ordering risks excluding customers who would otherwise be perfectly capable of making a purchase.
Accessibility is about more than accommodating people with disabilities.
It is about recognizing that people are different.
Some are young. Some are old.
Some are technologically experienced. Others are not.
Some have disabilities. Others may develop disabilities as they age.
Some can afford the latest devices. Others cannot.
Some embrace technology. Others prefer a more traditional approach.
None of these differences should determine whether a person can receive basic customer service.
The Human Cost of Going Digital
There is also something less obvious being lost in this rush toward automation: human interaction.
For many seniors, a visit to a restaurant, grocery store, or local business is more than a transaction. It can be an opportunity for conversation, connection, and independence.
A friendly employee who takes the time to explain a menu or help someone place an order provides something an app cannot always replicate.
That interaction has value.
When we replace every conversation with a screen, every employee with a kiosk, and every telephone number with a website, we risk creating a society that is technologically connected but increasingly disconnected from the people around us.
Efficiency matters.
Profitability matters.
Innovation matters.
But surely people matter too.
A Simple Solution: Give People a Choice
The answer is not to abandon technology.
It is to stop assuming that everyone can, or wants to, use it.
Businesses can embrace innovation while continuing to offer traditional methods of service.
Keep the app, but allow customers to order by telephone.
Offer QR-code menus, but have printed menus available.
Encourage online purchases, but provide assistance for customers who cannot navigate the website.
Use self-service kiosks, but make sure a staff member is available to help.
Provide accessible digital platforms, but recognize that even the best technology cannot meet every person’s needs.
Above all, remember that customer service should be about serving customers, not forcing customers to adapt to whatever system is most convenient for the business.
A little flexibility can make an enormous difference.
What If We Asked a Different Question?
We seem to spend a great deal of time asking how technology can make businesses more efficient.
Perhaps it is time to ask how businesses can make life easier for people.
What if every restaurant offered at least one accessible alternative to app-based ordering?
What if every retailer recognized that not all customers own smartphones?
What if companies tested their digital systems with seniors and people with disabilities before introducing them?
What if businesses understood that accessibility is not simply a technical requirement but a matter of dignity, respect, and equal opportunity?
What if we stopped treating people who struggle with technology as the problem?
And what if we remembered that the purpose of technology is to serve humanity, not the other way around?
The Bottom Line
We live in an age of extraordinary technological advancement. We can order dinner, purchase groceries, book appointments, and pay bills with a few taps on a screen.
For those who can use these systems, the convenience is undeniable.
But progress should not be measured solely by how quickly the technologically proficient can complete a transaction.
It should also be measured by how well we accommodate those who cannot.
A truly inclusive society does not force everyone through the same digital doorway. It provides different ways for people to reach the same destination.
Businesses should remember that behind every order is a person, not merely an account number, an app user, or a digital transaction.
That person deserves to be treated with dignity, patience, and respect.
Because ordering a meal should not require a smartphone. Buying groceries should not require technical expertise. And receiving customer service should not depend on your
ability to navigate an app.
Technology should expand our choices, not eliminate them.
So the next time a business tells you, “You need to download our app,” perhaps the appropriate response is a simple question:
“What if I can’t?”
And perhaps an even more important question:
“Why should I have to?”
Progress that leaves people behind is not progress for everyone.
Image = An older woman with short white hair, a camel wool coat and a patterned scarf stands at a wooden cafe counter, smiling as she orders from a young barista. She holds a white cane with a red band in her right hand and rests her left hand on the counter. The bearded barista, in a dark shirt and tan apron, smiles and writes her order on a notepad. On the counter sit a QR code card, a brass service bell and a jar of biscotti. Behind her, a row of tall self-order kiosks with blank glowing screens lines the wall, and a young man taps one. A pastry case and seated customers fill the background.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit http://www.donnajodhan.com
