The Eesti app (an eGov portal for citizens that acts as a gateway to all the digital services and information one might need) is technically complete and theoretically a brilliant solution. Yet I found myself standing at an Omniva post office, where my “official digital identity document” turned out to be completely useless.

This isn’t a story about a single bad experience. It’s a story about how even an excellent digital product alone is of little value—how ecosystem readiness and the management of user and service provider expectations dictate whether a digital product (such as the Eesti app) creates value or loses the user on the very first try. A poorly launched product, in turn, means that the investment made into developing it ultimately becomes just a sunk cost.

My experience

Last Saturday, I went to an Omniva post office to pick up a package. The parcel lockers were full, and my package had been redirected there. Since I didn’t have my ID card with me, I asked the clerk whether I could verify my identity with the Eesti app.

The answer was a firm no: Omniva’s internal rules state that only a physical ID card can be used to receive a package.

I asked if a photo of my ID card would work. Again—the cold, emotionless answer: “Only a physical ID card.”

The situation was absurd. I have Smart-ID, Mobile-ID, the Eesti.ee web portal (where you can also view documents after logging in), and now the Eesti app. All of these work daily for identification elsewhere. But here—nothing. Apparently, standing face-to-face with a customer service agent, I was considered a much greater security risk than when I simply type in a code received by SMS at a parcel locker screen.

Two bad experiences at once

For me, this was both an unpleasant experience with Omniva and an unpleasant experience with the Eesti app.

With Omniva, because the clerk offered no solution or flexibility. Of course, it wasn’t the clerk’s personal fault—Omniva has clearly made the rule that the app simply isn’t accepted and alternatives aren’t allowed. I honestly don’t see how picking up a package at the post office is a bigger security risk than at a parcel locker, where no document is checked at all—but fine, so be it.
With the Eesti app, because although it is marketed as an identity document, I couldn’t actually use it.

Research shows that users often abandon a digital product after just one bad experience. I have to admit, I now feel anxious and uncertain about trying again. First—I don’t know when I’ll happily go back to an Omniva office. Second—I’m not sure when I’ll use the Eesti app again. Maybe it’s safer to wait until enough service providers have actually integrated it.

But this is a double-edged sword. If I (and other consumers) don’t show initiative or ask to use the new solution, service providers will have even less motivation to adopt it. But if consumers do ask and are met with a cold refusal, their motivation disappears completely.

Whose responsibility is it really?

It’s easy to say: “Service providers can now familiarize themselves with the solution, test it in their systems, and adopt it according to their workflows and needs.” (as was written in the July 3, 2025 ERR press release). But in practice this means that no service provider ever actually has to adopt the solution.

Which in turn means that users will only be able to benefit from it at some unknown point in the future—if and when service providers find the resources and motivation. By then, will anyone even remember the Eesti app? Even the best product doesn’t create user value if it can’t be used in real life.

So the responsibility for success or failure doesn’t lie only with service providers. It’s also the responsibility of the developer—in this case, the state—to ensure that the ecosystem actually works.

That means:

• involving and preparing service providers already before the app launch,

• requiring service providers to adjust their processes and invest in service readiness,

• training employees.

But even that isn’t enough. Managing expectations over time is crucial. If the state invests money (whether €80,000 or €800,000), that investment will never become profitable on its own. If service providers say: “Why should we change anything?”—especially when every change requires investments in their IT systems at a time when budgets are tight—then the new solution will just sit unused. It’s important that the state ensures, through legislation and other levers at its disposal, that the service is actually usable for citizens from day one (i.e., it is also supported by service providers).

Every bad experience is lost investment

Research shows that every time the experience of using a digital service is bad, the likelihood of a person trying again decreases drastically. Add in the time factor—if today, when the topic is highly visible, I can’t use the app as expected, will I remember to try again a year from now? Probably not. And I’m one of those users who only needs the other services of the Eesti app maybe once a year. This could have been my main reason to use the app every day.

Studies confirm the link between poor experience and abandonment:

• According to PwC, 32% of customers abandon a brand after just one bad experience.

• Instabug (2025) says only two-thirds of mobile users give an app a second chance, and only if the problem has been fixed.

• ComScore/Statista report that 80% of users delete an app after a single use, and most abandon a problematic app after just 2–3 tries.

(In case you’re interested in the research article links, feel free to ask—I’m not linking them here because LinkedIn’s algorithm doesn’t like it.)

Aivar Pau wrote in Delfi Forte last December that the development cost of the Eesti app was €800,000. The same amount was spent on the mRiik app, which was never adopted (source). That’s a total of €1.6 million. As a citizen and as a product manager, am I satisfied with such an investment if I never use the app again (because I simply don’t remember or can’t, since service providers don’t support it)? No.

And every time a user tries the app and is disappointed, the investment becomes increasingly worse.

In conclusion

It’s nice to know, in theory, that I have an identity document on my phone. But if I can’t actually use it, then it’s completely useless to me.

Do you want me to also adapt this translation into a more polished LinkedIn-style post in English (keeping your voice, but making it flow for that audience), or should I keep it literal like now?