The Bare Necessities Of Brand Loyalty

Over the past few months, I've become something of a regular at The Bald Barista in Dublin. It's a handy place to prepare for my nearby meeting, the staff there are very friendly and the coffee's pretty good too.

But, despite my growing habit, I resisted their offer of a loyalty card, as I didn't want to add to the clutter in my wallet. Meaning I missed out on an occasional complimentary coffee and the Bald Barista missed out on my becoming part of their loyal customer group.

That's until I noticed someone ahead of me in the queue retrieving their card from a small rolodex behind the counter and handing it to the barista. She endorsed it, then returned it to the customer, who in turn replaced it in the rolodex. Problem solved!

When it came to my turn, I said 'yes' to the usual offer of a loyalty card, quickly wrote my name at the top, and added it to the rolodex under 'T'. All the while, feeling strangely pleased with myself as I did so.

As I sipped my coffee, I compared this apparently unsophisticated system with those employed by the larger coffee chains, who have typically adopted electronic technologies to track custom and keep coffee drinkers sweet.

And I concluded that, whilst the Bald Barista's system was a little cumbersome, and technically very old-fashioned, there was something quite appealing about knowing that 'my card' sat behind the counter (rather than in my wallet) waiting for my next visit. Something very personal too.

The more I thought about it, the more ingenious this unsophisticated system seemed to me. In making it personal, the Bald Barista was getting much closer to the heart of loyalty than many of his more technologically advanced competitors. For me, the simple knowledge that my card, with my name scrawled on it, enjoyed pride of place in the rolodex behind the counter, made the loyalty card much more than just a system to rack up points towards a free beverage. Instead, I felt myself to be a card-carrying member of the Bald Barista community of coffee-drinkers, something that the shiny plastic systems on offer elsewhere had failed to do.

I'm unlikely to be alone in feeling this way. Sometimes, the simpler approach is best, and brand-owners are better advised to choose those systems that bring them closer to their customer rather than just enable them to manage a process more efficiently.

Now, I'm quite sure that economics played a part in the Bald Barista's decision to stick with a 'pen and paper' system, and I'm fairly sure the system isn't fool-proof, but for me the unadorned simplicity of an approach which puts you right at the heart of a business is irresistible.

Over To You: What do you think? Have you experienced slick loyalty systems that leave you feeling cold when compared with those that offer something of the human touch?

Way Past Bedtime

How far can you take brand loyalty?

Earlier this month, we went to see one of our favourite musicians, Natalie Merchant, at Dublin's Helix Theatre. We've been listening to the music of the one-time 10,000 Maniacs vocalist for some time now, since she went solo back in 1994 with Tigerlily; and as far as we were concerned, she's one of the world greats, a true original who can do no wrong.

The singer was in Dublin to promote her latest recording, Leave Your Sleep, a series of children's poems set to music, and given her gorgeous reworkings of traditional songs on The House Carpenter's Daughter, we thought we were in for a real treat.

Instead, we had to sit through a mini-lecture on the poets who wrote the original rhymes and on Merchant's songwriting process, complete with slideshow portraits, and interspersed with what felt like only snatches of song. Even the author didn't seem terribly interested in what she had to say or sing, delivering her seminar with a take-it-or-leave-it attitude that suggested she herself found the format less than compelling.

What was remarkable about the evening was the good humoured indulgence of the audience, many of whom faced a long trip home before bedtime and sat half-dozing through the slideshow. It seems that the artist has built up such loyalty in her brand that we were prepared to allow her this sleepwalk through her latest project, like old friends sitting uncomplainingly through pictures of first day at school, scenes at the beach, and darlings in first holy communion splendour, stifling a yawn but too polite to make excuses and leave.

Only towards the end of the evening did we grow audibly restless, and the singer responded by finishing with five of her crowd-favourites, which brought the audience to its feet and sent us out into the night finally feeling we'd been at a concert. Or perhaps she'd always intended to reward us for our patience?

Speaking with friends afterwards, it seems that everyone there was similarly disappointed with most of the evening and I found myself wondering whether a brand can take uncomplaining loyalty too far.

Of course, Natalie Merchant is not the first artist to test her faithful's patience in this way. I remember hearing stories of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and other greats, wilfully refusing to indulge their audiences when they had a new project to promote. Something about the set of Merchant's jaw, even from the distance of the thirty feet or so that separated us, suggested that she too was not inclined to pick up on the restless cues of her audience.

Those of us who work hard to build a devoted following for our brand can count on a certain tolerance from our customers but when this spills over into self-indulgence even the greatest loyalists will have their doubts.

No more bedtime stories for me, thanks!