Temu is slowly catching the attention of young consumers, the way a newly opened coffee shop starts trending on social media does. It’s on your Instagram feed, it’s on your cousins’ WhatsApp groups, it’s promising mind-boggling discounts on everything from portable blenders to velvet cushion covers. The bright banners scream “flash sale,” the games promise free rewards, and the prices seem almost too good to be true. And more often than not, they are.
For many Pakistani consumers, Temu has become a mirror of a shopping experience they already know too well: the kind where clearance sales are used to sell factory-defected items, where “flat 70% off” often means selling lower-quality stock, and where outlet malls quietly peddle downgraded products under the guise of designer bargains.
“It is like the app knows exactly how to pressure you,” says Amna, a university student in Islamabad. “Every second item had a countdown, and every page screamed ‘almost sold out.’ I ended up buying socks, a mini vacuum, and drawer organisers – none of which I needed. I just did not want to miss out and meet the minimum order requirement”
That manufactured urgency is no accident. Temu’s design plays on the same psychological triggers as a frantic bazaar sale or an Eid exhibition offering “last day discounts”, the kind that convinces you to walk away with three kurtas when you only came for one.
The app uses a clever mix of flash sales, pop-up timers, and gamified shopping experiences that trap users in endless loops. “Spin-the-wheel” bonuses promise bigger discounts if you keep buying; “free gifts” lure you into spending more to unlock them, but the goalposts keep moving.
“I played one of the countless games on the app and picked a small gift, thinking I would win it easily,” says Iqra, a student from Multan. “But it became so difficult and required me to keep inviting friends, that I just gave up. Had I known, I would have done something more productive in that time.”
And even before the checkout, the browsing experience itself feels hijacked.“When I tapped on a flash deal, it did not even let me view the product properly,” says Hannan, a textile designer from Karachi. “It just added the item straight to my cart. I could not check reviews or compare options. It is like they do not want you to think, but just click and buy.”
It’s the digital equivalent of being at a chaotic “everything must go” warehouse sale, where staff bundle things into your hands faster than you can decide whether you actually want them. And what happens after the tempting prices have worked their magic?For many users, disappointment comes packaged in flimsy materials, poorly stitched clothes, and items that barely resemble the polished photos online. Returns are theoretically possible, but practically difficult in Pakistan, where Temu might be choosing to spend millions on digital ads but nothing on local presence, such as customer service that frustrated customers could reach out to and get swift responses.
“The return process looked like a headache. I just gave the items away to my house help,” says Hira, a newlywed from Karachi. “I felt scammed, but definitely learned my lesson. It reminded me of the times my Mum has repeatedly warned me to be careful of where I spend my money online”.
That feeling of disappointment mixed with compulsion is a common thread. It’s reminiscent of the many local scams Pakistanis have grown wary of over time: the fake branded sneakers sold outside shopping malls, the Instagram boutiques that deliver visibly different products, the seasonal exhibitions where “original replicas” turn out to be just expensive copies.
The challenge with Temu is that it brings these familiar traps into a shinier, tech-driven world. It looks credible. It looks global. But at its core, it uses the same old tactics: emotional urgency, incomplete information, and psychological nudges that turn simple shopping into an exhausting game of chase.
In a country like Pakistan, where inflation is squeezing budgets and digital consumer protections are still catching up, this kind of manipulation can leave a deeper scar. Consumers in Pakistan are still adjusting to the idea of shopping online. Targeted scams like these risk undermining that fragile trust, potentially discouraging people from embracing e-commerce altogether, just when the internet has finally become a lifeline for aspiring local brands, allowing them to launch businesses with minimal investment and reach wider audiences than ever before.
Temu’s growing problems in Pakistan: Fake deliveries, delayed refunds, and frustrated customers
