The £40 flight that made me suspicious

So I’m sat with my partner hunting flights for our next trip, laptop open between us. A tab open for a big-name airline, another for one I’d never heard of, £40 cheaper for the same route (alarm bells, or so I told myself). My finger hovers over “book” and stalls.

What’s the catch?

Cheap feels brilliant when the saving makes sense. When it doesn’t, your mind starts writing its own explanation...

And the explanations aren’t flattering.

What did easyJet do differently?

easyJet entered European aviation in 1995 with a blunt low-fare promise.

Its early advertising compared the price of flying with a pair of jeans. The booking phone number appeared in huge orange type on the aircraft. A later campaign told people to cut out travel agents and book direct.

The airline’s choices made the low price easier to explain.

Direct sales removed an intermediary; the cabin product stayed basic. Food, bags, seat choice and priority boarding all sat outside the base fare. Allocated seating only arrived in 2012.

One correction worth making: easyJet didn’t launch as an online-only airline. Online booking arrived in 1998.

The broader point still holds. Buyers could see where some of the saving came from.

What does the research say?

Price can act as a quality cue, especially when the product is unfamiliar or difficult to judge before buying.

A high price can imply confidence and quality. A very low one can create a question:

“What do they know that I don’t?”

That reaction isn’t universal. Plenty of people hunt for bargains and feel smug when they find one.

But an unknown brand offering the same promise as an established competitor for half the price creates an information problem. The buyer has to explain the difference somehow.

If the company stays vague, suspicion does the writing.

What’s my take?

easyJet gave the discount a cause.

The orange branding and loud prices grabbed attention, but the visible trade-offs helped the proposition feel coherent. You paid less because the operating model removed things you could recognise.

Low price needs a receipt.

This principle can work for a product, service, subscription or membership:

“We removed X, so you pay Y.”

The important bit is what follows:

“We kept Z because that is the part you came for.”

That boundary matters. Visible trade-offs can build trust when they’re chosen, clear, relevant and worth the saving. Random fees and lousy service create a different story entirely.

I’d put any cheaper offer through 4 questions:

1. What did we remove?
2. How does that reduce the cost?
3. What part of the experience remains protected?
4. Can the buyer see the trade-off before paying?

If you can’t answer those, the customer will invent an answer for you.

And their version may involve dodgy materials, desperate cash flow, a bloke operating from a shed with one fire extinguisher, or a warranty written in disappearing ink.

The saving becomes easier to trust when the sacrifice is visible.

What’s a deal you’ve seen that was so cheap it made you suspicious instead of excited?

Mark