Loose Cannon: Count Off: A Candid Look At A Dozen Loyalty Schemes
According to a loyalty program census from Colloquy, the average American household belongs to 12 reward or recognition programs, but is active in only five.
The biggest factor in consumer apathy is a lack of relevant communication from the marketer. A look at my own dozen memberships affirms this.
1-3. I’ve got buy-10-get-one-free punch cards from three sandwich shops. The stores don’t collect purchase data, so they can’t make tailored offers. And the rewards are small enough that I’m not especially chuffed when I misplace the cards.
4-6. I belong to three hospitality chain programs: I rarely collect points on them. When I travel for work, all I want is a non-smoking room. When I travel for pleasure, I prefer offbeat hotels or bed and breakfasts.
7. I know I belong to drugstore chain Duane Reade’s Dollar Rewards, because it actively irks me. This program periodically wipes out points members earn. Supposedly the chain advertises these reset dates, but twice I’ve been close to a reward and been blindsided by zero balances. It’s a dis-incentive program. Mail reminders would be nice, and could do double duty. All that purchase data and Duane Reade has nothing to cross-sell me?
8. I do get regular mail from General Nutrition Center’s discount program. I should probably supplement my vitamin intake with ginkgo biloba for memory, as I keep misplacing my membership card which, unlike my Duane Reade card, never seems to make the leap into my wallet. The option to give my home telephone number for ID purposes would be appreciated.
9. During a road trip along Route 66 I enrolled in two discount programs. The first was from Southern CA-based supermarket chain Vons, where I filled a car trunk with bottled water and beef jerky. (I had morbid fantasies of breaking down in the middle of the desert.)
10. I also joined The Summit Inn Restaurant VIP Club. The Summit Inn exists to provide road travel buffs a place to go to the bathroom that isn’t behind a cactus, and a chance to gawk at Route 66 memorabilia. A 5% discount on an $8 lunch isn’t going to sway additional trips to Oak Hill, CA, although Route 66 trivia mailings might.
Haven’t heard from 9 or 10 since my trip. Perhaps management screens out East Coast addresses. More likely they assumed that I’d been stranded, and coyotes enjoyed the jerky as an amuse bouche before having me as a main course. So what did each get for the discounts they gave?
11. JetBlue’s loyalty program sends me monthly updates. Like Duane Reade, I manage to just miss reward levels: Unlike Duane Reade, being able to sit comfortably in a coach seat, something I can’t do on other carriers, makes up for that frustration.
12. My favorite loyalty scheme is one from the folks who run a local dry cleaner: Long ago I gave them my phone number. Today I can walk through the door, drop an armload of shirts on the counter, rattle off seven digits—they actually get annoyed if I try to give them the area code—and leave. No forms to fill out in triplicate. No card to remember. No frustration of missed reward levels. No starch.
No reason to go anywhere else.
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Endnote, apropos of nothing in particular: It’s Monday morning, June 11. Have you remembered to cancel your HBO subscription?
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