A firsthand look at how Google’s decision to sunset support for the 1st and 2nd-generation Nest Thermostats reveals a deeper issue in modern business strategy — the tension between short-term profit and long-term customer trust in the connected age.
Open Letter to Google
The Moment
On October 27, both of my Nest Learning Thermostats (2nd Gen) finally lost app connectivity.
I’d seen the alerts for weeks but, like many loyal users, I hoped the shutdown wouldn’t really happen. These devices have worked flawlessly for over a decade. They weren’t broken — they were discontinued.
When the app stopped connecting, there was no real way to reach customer service or voice frustration. Just an automated message confirming what I’d feared: support had ended.
The thermostats still function manually. The hardware didn’t fail — the relationship did.
The Context
I’m far from anti-Google. My home runs on a Google Mesh network, Google Home, and a suite of Google apps I use daily for collaboration and productivity. I’m deeply invested — personally and professionally — in their ecosystem.
That’s what makes this decision feel so shortsighted. When a company as sophisticated as Google decommissions perfectly functional devices, it doesn’t just remove a feature. It weakens the emotional contract of reliability that keeps users loyal.
This isn’t about thermostats. It’s about ecosystem trust — and the quiet erosion that happens when short-term cost savings take priority over long-term customer retention.
The Legal “Fix” That Isn’t
After losing connection, I went looking for recourse. A mass-arbitration initiative online promised consumer empowerment. On paper, it sounded hopeful — a way to push back.
But the fine print told another story: a forty-percent contingency fee, automatic opt-out of future class actions, broad discretion for attorneys to act in your name, and confidential arbitration under Pennsylvania law.
For a $200 device, that isn’t justice — it’s friction disguised as advocacy.
Corporations have learned that the best defense isn’t a courtroom victory — it’s procedural fatigue.
The “Discount” Dilemma
Then came an email from Google offering a forty-two-percent discount on the newest Nest Thermostat. On the surface, that looks generous. But strategically, it’s a fascinating — and deeply flawed — move.
Is it benevolence, or a revenue-recovery mechanism dressed as goodwill?
Think about the optics: a company disables the defining features of a decade-old product, then offers loyal customers a limited-time discount to “upgrade.” It’s framed as a courtesy, but it’s effectively monetizing discontinuation.
If you’re a product strategist or CX leader, this is the inflection point. The short-term revenue bump from forced upgrades rarely offsets the long-term erosion of trust capital — especially in ecosystems built on interconnectivity.
The Broader Lesson
This moment isn’t about HVAC systems. It’s about ownership, responsibility, and digital sustainability.
When functionality depends on servers consumers don’t control, they’re not owners — they’re renters of connectivity. Ending support for connected products might reduce maintenance costs today, but it teaches users to never fully commit again.
The next time those same customers see a connected device, they’ll ask: “How long before this one stops working too?”
That question isn’t cynical — it’s earned.
In the short term, disabling “legacy” devices may look like smart financial hygiene. In the long term, it erodes brand loyalty, weakens retention, and tells customers they’re replaceable.
The lesson is simple but often ignored: digital longevity is brand equity.
Innovation isn’t only about what you build next — it’s about how responsibly you retire what came before. The companies that internalize that truth will keep their customers. The ones that don’t will keep losing them — one silent disconnect at a time.
