In the middle of running between places and appointments the other day, I had an overwhelming desire for something chocolate. With about $1 in my bag and very little time to spare, I stopped into one of about 10,000 pharmacies between wherever I was coming from and my office [which have really turned into huge convenience stores with a pharmacist in the back].
As I pulled into a parking spot, I figured I had 12 minutes to get in, get the chocolate, and get to the office to prepare for my next client. The drive is 4-6 minutes, probably; and I'll admit I spent about 3 minutes reading labels to determine which candy bar would be the smartest choice -- wasted minutes, as it turns out everything has either 200 or 210 calories per serving. Candy conspiracy.
I finally selected something, mostly because it had a huge tag on it saying it was on sale for 50 cents, figuring if I couldn't do right by my waistline I could at least give the old budget a nod. I waited in line for what seemed like forever, because the lady in front of me was buying groceries for her entire household and had the lone cashier run over to the photo counter for her to retrieve her photos. It seems like whenever I'm in a hurry, I get behind the one person with nowhere to be. Anyway, she paid her $95 -- seriously, $95 at Rite Aid -- and finally it was my turn.
I chucked the candy on the counter, looked at my watch, and pulled my sad little dollar out of my wallet. The cashier, who may have also been a manager, rang me up. Here was the conversation:
CASH: How are you?
ME: Great, thanks. You?
CASH: Do you have a Wellness Card with us?
ME: No.
CASH: Do you want one?
ME: No thank you.
CASH: That will be 91 cents.
ME: But the sign says it's 50 cents?
CASH: That's with the Wellness Card.
ME: Seriously?
CASH: Yes, ma'am. I can get you a card if you want, it's free.
ME: Okay, fine, I'll take a card.
CASH: [pulling out brochure] I just need you to fill out your name, address, and phone number here, and sign it.
ME: For a candy bar?
CASH: We need it for the card.
ME: Never mind, I'll just pay the 91 cents or whatever. I don't have time to fill anything out today.
CASH: Okay. [completes transaction, hands over candy bar and 9 cents]. Thank you, come again.
Yeah, right.
****************
Obviously, this is a case of a customer loyalty program gone horribly, horribly wrong. The whole reason that this particular chain of pharmacies instituted these 'Wellness' cards was to get customers to walk through their doors more often and buy more products when they do. They want me to shop there because I see the card in my wallet, which they hope will give me the impression I can save money there. But more importantly, they want to use said card to track my buying habits, which will help them tailor their products and services to me and others like me.
In this case, however, the way the loyalty incentives are implemented did nothing but piss me off. At least for a while, if I can easily avoid going into Rite Aid, I probably will -- and it won't be that hard, considering nearly every time I see one there's a competitor's store on the other corner. They wanted me to get the card so that they could understand me better and encourage me to shop there, but in my case this tactic backfired. Instead of turning a casual customer into a frequent shopper, they turned me into someone else's casual customer instead.
And it's not even that I mind being tracked. I have a marketing background myself, so I know how this stuff works, and I see it as potentially mutually beneficial. They learn about me so that I will buy more, and I will probably get benefits like custom coupons, etc. No problem. But I don't want to have to keep up with a card for a place I shop maybe once every couple of months and typically for less than $20, and I don't like being told something is 'on sale' with a big yellow tag, only to find out at the register that forking over my personal information is part of the fine print.
I don't have the solution, of course. What blogger does? From a marketing research perspective, it will take someone far more creative than I to solve this problem [if Rite Aid even sees losing my tiny bit of business as a problem]. Maybe it's about rearranging the discount structure or finding a different way to 'incentivize' buyers to hand over their data. I don't know.
What I do know is that all the marketing data in the world is useless when the face-to-face interaction with the customer, the biggest and most direct opportunity to win me over, goes badly. In my humble opinion, more emphasis on old-fashioned customer service and making people feel they've been treated fairly is still worth far more than knowing how often they buy toothpaste. If that cashier/manager had taken a moment and made an exception to the rule, with a big friendly smile, she might've had a customer for life. As it is, she's got 41 extra cents and a "Wellness Card" that will have to wait for the next person.
No comments:
Post a Comment