When a human being is given too many choices, he gets befuddled. Some online booking platforms drive you crazy with options, and then clean you out
Avoid middlemen when you buy flight tickets. Use Google Travel to explore routes, airlines, and fares. Illustration by C Y Gopinath using AI
This is the story of a foolish man who tried to book two plane tickets and ended up paying the price of three. Needless to add, I was that idiot. My folly was booking through an online travel company, which recently replaced all human interactions with an inane AI chatbot.
I needed a ticket to go from Bangkok to Mumbai on October 8, tomorrow. The company’s cheapest fare, R11,518, was from IndiGo, masters of the art of the add-on. I feel lucky sometimes that take-off and landing are not optional add-ons.
I noticed a button below the website header with the words ‘Zero Cancellation Fee’. Who wouldn’t select it? I did.
Once I’d picked my flight, I was bombarded with pages of options in small print, sometimes with asterisks, footnotes, and frightening words like “T&C apply”.
First, I was informed that I would pay nearly the entire cost of the ticket, or Rs 11,219, if I cancelled my ticket. However, by paying an extra Rs 4114 to buy Cancellation Protection, I could ensure a 100 per cent refund, provided I cancelled at least 24 hours before the flight.
Since I’d already checked that ‘Zero Cancellation Fee’ box, I moved on.
For Rs 966, I could change my dates for free, saving up to Rs 6295 in penalties. Old tactic: scare you with a big number to make you pay a smaller one. Pass.
Would I like priority check-in and anytime boarding for Rs 946. I pass. Airports are among the few places where I exploit my senior citizen status to get all kinds of preferential priority treatment. I once beat a giant queue and got offered a free wheelchair by whispering to the airline worker that if I stood at a spot too long, I tended to throw up violently.

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More offers came and went: pay extra and book a seat, a meal, flight delay protection, lost baggage protection, a forex service. Pass, pass, pass on everything. By now, I just wanted it over with.
I had also forgotten the little ‘Zero Cancellation Fee’ checkbox I’d opted for at the beginning. This is what humans do. They forget stuff and make mistakes when they’re overwhelmed by choices and options.
When I was presented with a bill for Rs 19,262, I paid it quite uncritically. It was only when I booked the return ticket and saw its cost — only R12,181 — that I went on red alert. Why had the going ticket cost me Rs 7000 more? A quick invoice-check showed that they had added on something called a Convenience Fee (about R2000), though it wasn’t clear for whom it was convenient. Another Rs 5000 or so had been tacked on for that Zero Cancellation Fee. So, not zero after all; they were merely collecting 50 per cent of the ticket price in advance.
This was when things began going sharply south. Desperate to cancel my ticket and rebook it without that zero-cancellation, I clicked the Cancel Ticket button on the booking website. It asked for the booking ID, and I made my second mistake — I pasted the return flight’s ID.
Alarmed by my own ineptitude, I looked for a support page where I could talk to an agent and correct my mistake. But all the company has now is a silly, brainless chatbot. I asked it how I could reach a human agent, and it froze, displaying the message: Calling support agent. Nothing happened. I frantically texted the company’s WhatsApp site: Please cancel my cancellation request. That too, alas, was a dehumanised zone.
Here’s why the company is guilty of deception. An ethical, user-friendly service would have built-in high tolerance for human error and given users ways to step back from accidental clicks or incorrect choices — especially for something as costly as a cancellation. They ought to contact the customer to reconfirm the cancellation. Are you sure you want to cancel?
This firm couldn’t cancel my ticket fast enough. Within an hour, they’d refunded the price — minus about Rs 2500. I lost, they won.
The company gave the game away today, messaging me on WhatsApp that I’d be able to call a customer support agent with a heartbeat and a voice directly starting 48 hours before the flight.
In other words, speaking to a human is now another add-on feature.
What can you learn from my ill-advised escapade?
1. Avoid middlemen when you buy tickets. Use Google Travel to explore routes, airlines, and fares. Check hidden taxes, limits and boundaries, and validity dates. Then buy directly from the airline.
2. Don’t click something because it says you can change your mind later. You won’t.
3. Distrust websites that dazzle and befuddle you with multiple choices. Endless options is not a benefit. It’s a trap.
4. Avoid services whose only support service is an AI chatbot.
The IndiGo website was clean, uncluttered, and lucid. I could have booked the same ticket there for R988 less. I would have got zero cancellation fees up to 24 hours before the flight by just paying Rs 999, not Rs 4114.
And hallelujah, no Convenience Fee added on at checkout time. Just all-round convenience.
You can reach C Y Gopinath at cygopi@gmail.com
Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.
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