Oh, Amazon. Why must lovers quarrel? This is a terrific example of the limitations of good-will.
Starting in April, Amazon.com raised the price of its Prime membership program by $20 per year. The news may have made some grit their teeth and reevaluate renewing their subscription, but many others like myself took the news in stride, considering the service well worth the premium. Though in practice I rarely find customer service worth my time, I’ve had my fair share of first-hand experience with Amazon’s amazing customer support, who has always been quick, fair, and respectful. At least half a dozen times Amazon has eaten the bill for a stolen or defective order, or otherwise kindly provided credits to my account when I bought the wrong digital media by mistake (more owed to mislabeling). I’ve seen Kindles replaced out of warranty and ample warning when an item I ordered would be delayed. In other words, Amazon and I tend to get along swimmingly.
In hindsight, the first time I raised my eyebrows a little in Amazon’s direction was probably when they first debuted their discounted Kindle device with “special offers.” They were simply trying to offset manufacturing costs with advertisements to make the devices as affordable as possible, and the ad-free version wasn’t too much more. Still, the fact that they’d distribute an Amazon-branded device with ads seemed mostly unprecedented in the electronics landscape, and even made the premium devices seem a little cheap by proximity.
I barely even noticed when, after a few generations of their house electronics, the new Kindle model didn’t include an AC adapter. If anything, I thought the move was smart: in an effort to cut costs as much as possible, Amazon correctly expected customers to have any number of AC-USB chargers and micro-USB cables lying around their houses that would suitably charge their new device. Why create waste in the form of another unused plug that will sit in a drawer? Why pass that cost onto their customers? So smart!
I held onto that line of thinking until I bought a $35 Chromecast (from Amazon, of course). That little gadget not only saved me the cost of replacing my now-dead HTPC, but came with a 6″ HDMI cable, a 5-foot micro-USB cable, and an AC-USB adapter. All for the price of the Seven Samurai Blu-ray. This was the first time Amazon’s pricing scheme really got me thinking: if Google can toss in all these arguably unneeded extras, where does Amazon get off charging $15 for a similar charger (or the $20 “accelerated” charger)? Surely for the $120 Kindle Paperwhite Amazon could throw in one of these?
Before I talk any more about Kindles, let’s take a second look at Chromecast. Where Google has put its money where its mouth is to offer these affordable little blessings, Amazon’s developers have stood on the far side of the room of people offering support for the device. Netflix, Hulu, and even Crackle have moved in quickly to reach customers in this new space. But Amazon’s competing video service? Oh, let’s save that one for our fiftieth device in the Amazon Fire line, the $100 Fire TV! HDMI cable not included.
And now we get back to the Kindles. Even if I were interested in the Fire TV, I’d be right to be suspicious of Amazon’s legacy device support and relentless model procession. Not only is Amazon quick to abandon their devices shortly into their lifespans (in terms of firmware and software updates), the latest and greatest model is always just around the corner! From their initial release in 2011 to 2013, no fewer than five Kindle Fires were released, each bigger and better than the last. At that rate it’s no wonder their developers don’t have time to stop and support the devices they already have, and a sure bet that you’ll be feeling like a sucker within a few months of purchase. Add to this the fact that all devices in the Kindle family are deliberately underpowered to meet the value pricepoint, guaranteeing that the same device will be easier to upgrade and rebrand in the near future.
But Amazon’s biggest push with their devices is the exclusive content they have access to. I recently received a letter in the mail from Amazon reminding me of all the great content I could watch instantly for free with my Prime membership, which I would gladly do if I had a single device that could play it. None of our smartphones, Chromecasts, Chromebooks, or even desktop PCs are eligible to play this great HD content I’m promised. That’s funny, because their competitors don’t seem to mind supporting every single device in my house. I’m pretty sure I could rig my toaster up to play Netflix if I wanted to. But no, Amazon locks down its playback on all but approved devices, and woefully cripples streaming on any PC to standard definition. Let’s not even get into their 256Mbps, DRM’d MP3 store.
Amazon is setting themselves up to be another walled garden, like Apple or the old AOL. They aren’t playing nice with others or supporting open standards with their technology development. Like Apple, Amazon is taking open-sourced code and making it proprietary, completely going against the philosophy on which their software is based. I, for one, won’t buy into their schtick and have been taking my digital business elsewhere.
With all that said, I am still quite loyal to Amazon as a company, though of course I’ve no problem snubbing their devices. This is the strength of the good-will they have earned from me as a customer, and I think earned is the operative word. I will be watching them closely though, as the scale is getting quite close to tipping while Amazon invests more heavily in their separate proprietary ecosystems. As “add-on items” begin to further establish themselves and prices become less and less competitive, it’s anybody’s guess how long this lover’s affair will last. I truthfully hope that Amazon.com soon realizes that earned loyalty does not equal blind favor.
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