NICOLE KOBIE
If I have to cross borders in real life, I want domains to tell me who I’m really buying from online
If I have to cross borders in real life, I want domains to honestly tell me who I’m really buying from online – otherwise what’s the point of them?
As an immigrant and – before the last 18 months – a frequent traveller, I find borders annoying. But we need to build some tougher ones on the internet.
I try to avoid relying on Amazon for online retail for the usual reasons: complaints about staff treatment, damage to local businesses, and the company’s efforts to avoid paying taxes, while making enough money to blast founder Jeff Bezos into space. And that means that when I need to buy something, I turn first to the wider, and wilder, internet.
Before bashing a search term into Google, there are obvious options such as eBay, Etsy or John Lewis. The latter has the benefit of being a UK brand, while the two former sites at least allow a would-be shopper to search geographically, only showing results that are based in the country.
That’s more important than ever thanks to Brexit. Some companies simply won’t deliver to the UK any more, claiming the paperwork and charges aren’t worth it. While I was researching cargo bikes earlier this year, plenty of continental suppliers greeted my arrival to their online shop with a banner warning that they were no longer shipping to UK addresses, while others left that nugget of information until the checkout phase.
But at least I knew those stores were across the Channel. When shopping for compression socks – not everything I buy is exciting, okay? – I accidentally ended up importing a pair from Denmark. The website URL ended in “.co.uk”, the prices were in pounds, and the contact address was a short bus ride away from my flat in North London. It seemed reasonable to believe that I was shopping locally.
It wasn’t until I hit the checkout page that the site revealed that the socks weren’t shipping a short distance, but from across the North Sea. Does it matter? Not only are shipping times longer than if they had been popped in the mail from a postcode away in London, but my socks also need to be processed and handed off by customs to Royal Mail. I’ve had a deluge of emails from PostNord and Royal Mail about it, when what I really want is socks.
At least they’re on the way, and the company has figured out shipping between Denmark and Brexited Britain. Earlier this year, just after that January deadline, I made a crazed decision – let’s blame it on lockdown – to buy my husband the same number of gifts as his looming milestone birthday. I’ll admit to turning to Amazon at times of desperation, because the shipping situation at the time was bonkers. While plenty of gifts could be bought locally, there was one key item that could only be found in Europe – but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. I mean, have it for him.
I’ll explain. My husband likes cheese, but somehow has never owned a fondue set. While trawling the internet for suitable gifts, I spotted a fondue pot designed to look like a cartoon piece of cheese, a yellow cratered slab of ceramic that’s clearly the most perfect device ever designed for heating and eating cheese. Enchanted, I added it to the basket and headed to the checkout, with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. But the “.co.uk” website I was shopping at no longer shipped to the UK – a bewildering prospect, as who else would shop at that domain?
Fine, I thought. I’ll find it elsewhere. Another cheese paraphernalia retailer, again with that “.co.uk” domain, also stocked this perfect gift, but shipping would take several weeks and I don’t plan birthday celebrations that far ahead. This saga repeated, frustratingly, until I almost gave up. In a last fit of desperation, I searched on Amazon: there was a Marketplace listing that would deliver in two days.
This is why people sell their souls and subscribe to Amazon Prime. Shopping online has become harder than physically going to the store – and that includes those on the continent. Imagine if you set out to your local John Lewis, only to find that it was closed, in Denmark or unwilling to sell to you because your compatriots voted to leave the EU.
We need honesty in online shopping, and it shouldn’t be Amazon setting that bar. If a site has a “.co.uk” domain, I don’t expect it to be run by Brits, but it should at least ship to the UK and perhaps even hold some stock in the country. Otherwise, what’s the point of country-specific domains? I’m happy to order from Danes, but I want to know when I’m doing it. If we’re going to take back our country, or whatever the point of Brexit was, can we also take back our top-level domain?
When shopping for compression socks – not everything I buy is exciting, okay? – I accidentally ended up importing a pair from Denmark
Shopping online has become harder than physically going to the store – and that includes those on the continent