When Żabka Jush appeared, it slid into my life without resistance. During the pandemic it almost felt natural that groceries would start moving instead of people. You open the app, choose a few things, and within minutes someone rings your doorbell. The streets were empty, routines were suspended, and yet this one system kept functioning. The pricing made it easy to accept. Coupons were frequent, minimum baskets didn’t punish small orders, and the difference between going outside and staying in was small enough that convenience felt rational rather than indulgent. It didn’t feel like splurging. It felt like the city had upgraded quietly.
I used it often enough that it became part of the week. A missing ingredient before dinner. Drinks running low when guests were already there. A lazy evening when the thought of boots and cold pavement felt unnecessary. Each time it solved something small. Each time it made sense numerically. Even when the discounts became less generous or the minimum spend nudged upward, I adjusted without much friction. I told myself that nothing remains artificially cheap forever and that delivery services have costs. The changes were incremental, which made them easy to absorb. There was no single moment that forced a reaction.
Over the months the totals started feeling heavier. Fewer direct discounts, more layered fees. Base prices inching upward. Delivery fee. Packaging fee. Deposit. Every element defendable on its own. The full weight only visible at the checkout screen. I saw it happening and still kept ordering. The convenience continued to outweigh the arithmetic most of the time.
Tonight it was a bottle of tonic water. Julia and I had something to celebrate, nothing huge, just a good evening. I opened the app without thinking and selected the bottle. Nine złoty. Then the deposit. Then the packaging fee. Then delivery. The total moved close to twenty. I looked at the screen longer than I should have. Not because I couldn’t afford it, but because the number felt disconnected from the object. It was tonic water.
I put on a jacket and walked to the nearby Żabka. It was freezing, the kind of cold that makes your breath visible and your steps louder in the snow. Two bottles cost 11.49 with the in-store promotion. I paid, exchanged a few words about the weather and wearing winter boots in store, then walked back home. The evening continued as planned. Drinks were made. We toasted. Nothing about the celebration changed. But something about the habit did. I could see more clearly how the service had evolved while I adjusted alongside it, how easy it is to accept small increases when they arrive gradually and wrapped in convenience.
I’m not deleting the app. I like what it offers. It solves real problems and it still makes sense in many situations. I just don’t want to slide into paying whatever total appears on the screen without thinking about it. Tonight I recognized how the mechanism works when you stop paying attention, and that recognition is enough. I’ll use it when the math makes sense. When it doesn’t, I’ll put on a jacket.