Lockout horror stories
Amazon
My account was banned recently because, years ago, I ordered two paper books that Amazon said would be split into two shipments. Both books arrived without any issues, but later Amazon refunded me for one of them, claiming that one package never arrived. This happened 4–5 years ago. Apparently, during a recent review, they decided this counted as fraud and banned my account. As a result, I can no longer log in and lost access to all my Kindle e-books. They also remotely wiped my Kindle, so my entire library is gone. I appealed the decision, but I've been waiting for over six months with no resolution.
— icqFDR on Hacker News, 2025-12-19
A friend of mine received a double shipment for a $300 order. Being honest, he contacted customer service to arrange a return. Everything seemed fine until a few days later when he noticed they had also refunded his original payment. He reached out again to let them know, and they said they'd just recharge his card. Apparently, that transaction failed (no clear reason why), and without any warning, they banned his account, wiping out his entire Kindle library in the process.
— egeozcan on Hacker News, 2025-12-19
Apple
My Apple ID, which I have held for around 25 years (it was originally a username, before they had to be email addresses; it's from the iTools era), has been permanently disabled. This isn't just an email address; it is my core digital identity. It holds terabytes of family photos, my entire message history, and is the key to syncing my work across the ecosystem.
The only recent activity on my account was a recent attempt to redeem a $500 Apple Gift Card to pay for my 6TB iCloud+ storage plan. The code failed. The vendor suggested that the card number was likely compromised and agreed to reissue it. Shortly after, my account was locked.
I effectively have over $30,000 worth of previously-active “bricked" hardware. My iPhone, iPad, Watch, and Macs cannot sync, update, or function properly. I have lost access to thousands of dollars in purchased software and media.
— Paris Buttfield-Addison, 2025-12-13
(For additional context, see Daring Fireball and TidBITS.)
Google strategically avoids the crush of users by offering little in the way of direct customer service. My calls to Mountain View HQ landed me in a labyrinth of recorded messages that inevitably led to one of a man, sounding only slightly less exasperated than I felt, shutting me down with a "Thankyougoodbye."
A few minutes into my Google-less existence, I realized how dependent I had become. I couldn't finish my work or my taxes, because my notes and expenses were stored in Google Drive, and I didn't know what else I should work on because my Google calendar had disappeared. I couldn't publicly gripe about what I was going through, because my Blogger no longer existed. My Picasa albums were gone. I'd lost my contacts and calling plan through Google Voice; otherwise I would have called friends to cry.
Living in the Bay Area, I have a fair number of Googler-friends, but the Googleplex has apparently grown so vast that none of them had any idea where to start.
In case you're wondering, in the end, I was fortunate. By Monday, a Googler filed the right internal escalation paperwork on my behalf and on Tuesday morning, six days after I lost access to my account, relayed that it had been restored.
My data was intact save for the last thing I'd worked on–a spreadsheet containing a client's account numbers and passwords. It seems that Google's engineers determined this single document violated policy and locked down my entire account. My request to get that document back is still pending.
I returned to the Google fold with eyes wide open to my responsibilities as a user. In relationship terms, I am no longer monogamous. I store my data on other servers maintained by providers like Evernote, Dropbox, and WordPress, and the cloud is my standby, not my steady. I've swapped convenience for control: I back up my email and what I care about most on physical hard drives.