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A Capital Idea? Well
Feb 1, 2007 12:00 PM
, HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS
The problem with so many “loyalty programs” is they demand our loyalty but don't volunteer a rat's behind for their loyalty. Veteran air travelers are quite accustomed to being unable to use their miles. I've griped about that one-way loyalty in these pages many a time, but I can't seem to convince Continental that they really should make seats available…or Delta to quit hiking the number of miles while terrifying us that those miles will be useless if the airline goes belly-up…or USAirways for throwing up more roadblocks than the Green Belt in Baghdad. I've been buying vitamins and supplements from a company called Doctor's Trust. What I've been trusting are their competitive prices. Now here's an “Insider Discount Alert” giving me “an additional 20% off your next order for $50 or more.” And smart: “The savings will automatically be added to your cart the next time you check out.” Uh-oh, there's an expiration date, so why not? I always can use selenium and glucosamine and some of those other arcane concoctions that have made it possible for me to run the four-minute mile and win the Iditarod. That's as far as my trust went with Doctor's Trust. They want a password? What's my password? And then checking out was parallel to checking out of the barbed-wire enclave at Guantanamo Bay. So the execution didn't live up to the offer, a profound mistake when dealing with “loyal” customers who grovel to save a few bucks. Genuine loyalty is rare…so rare that Nespresso startled me. We regularly order Nespresso coffee “capsules” for our Nespresso coffeemaker. No waste, no mess, and good strong espresso. Suddenly, here's a box from Nespresso. What is it? We don't have an open order. It's a box of fine chocolates with a note: “Day after day, you demonstrate your loyalty to Nespresso. To thank you for your continued confidence, we are delighted to offer you this gift. We trust you will enjoy this gesture of our gratitude.” Right on, Nespresso. Loyalty begets loyalty. Rare, very rare. Restaurants are almost universally willing and eager to honor their frequent-diner programs. Whether it's punching a hole into a “Dine 10 times and the 11th is on us” card or bestowing an automatic freebie on a birthday or anniversary, the only problem attending one of these glutton-extravaganzas is putting up with the occasional diner whose tip doesn't match the artificial largesse behind the extra benefit. Another positive: Give a little credit to credit cards. Suddenly, Capital One told me I had more than 14,000 points, and how did I want to use them? What an unexpected bonanza. I love you, Capital One, although you're my tertiary card. (After watching those execrable commercials for Citi, I'm showing my annoyance by taping the Citi card to the toilet seat.) But hold it: Is my love requited? Well, maybe. This was one of those episodes that rocked back and forth from ecstasy to agony and then back again. Translating the Rosetta Stone was easier than cashing in 10,000 of those points for a minor credit at Macy's, a “gift” that really wasn't what I wanted. I'd have preferred another gift they listed, a Samsung 32” flat-screen TV, but that was 127,500 points. So it's Macy's. Now, let's see. They want my password. Ain't got one. So it's a start-from-scratch venture. All right, I've invented a password. On into the maze: They want to know what? OK, I can tell them where I was born, although at the time I was too busy to make a note of it. And they want a pet's name? Uhh…better not get her angry by calling her a “pet,” so I'll choose a neutral qualifier, my high school. What's this? The terminology supposedly intended to get me out of there doesn't match, so I'll just type in “Macy's.” Does that work? Who can tell, because when I hit that nasty word “Submit” the whole thing just sat there. Did it take? So I hovered in limbo, unable to eat, sleep or evacuate because of the tension. What if they deduct the 10,000 miles without letting me appeal the decision? I'll lose the opportunity to get a huge bonus from Macy's, such as a necktie or a pair or shoelaces. Eureka! Here's an e-mail telling me heaven has smiled. The sun shines brightly on the card, on me, and oh, yes, on Macy's. HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS (www.herschellgordonlewis.com) is the principal of Lewis Enterprises in Fort Lauderdale, FL. He consults with and writes direct response copy for clients worldwide. “Hot Appeals or Burnt Offerings” is his recently published 30th book. He also is the author of “Open Me Now,” the curmudgeonly titled “Asinine Advertising,” and “On the Art of Writing Copy” (third edition). |
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