Posted by Christopher Stevenson

When I first joined Twitter a couple years ago, there were only a handful of active users in the credit union space. Many of these same users also wrote prominent credit union blogs. Twitter conversations didn't just focus on CUs; they covered current events, politics (perhaps to our detriment), and personal news. When someone posted something to Twitter, someone else responded. Full-blown group discussions would occasionally sprout up and sometimes participants would take those conversations off  line and finish them up with a phone call.

Today, there are hundreds of credit unions and credit union advocates on Twitter and I follow many of them, but the dynamic of the credit union Twitter space seems to have changed. Consider how often credit unions post rates or "Try the credit union difference" messages vs. responding to other people's tweets, answering questions, or even adding links to local community events. Even when I scan the Twitter feeds of some of the most notable CUs on Twitter, I see primarily a push of information rather than dialog. In addition, when I consider the click-through rates on links on sites like LinkedIn compared to Twitter, it seems there is a relative lack of engagement on Twitter.

Ask any credit union why they're on Twitter and I'd bet that the response you'll receive is something like, "We're seeking new ways to engage our membership," or "We want to be where our members are." If that is indeed the truth, then why is there so little energy expended on having conversations?

Here's my theory. (Feel free to argue if you disagree.)

Businesses on Twitter, not just credit unions, have made a follower-grab in their efforts to adopt the growing technology. The problem is, humans can only absorb so much information, and I'd argue that following more than about 100 people on Twitter causes information overload. We have to filter out the noise in order to make sense of the information that's most important to us. At a party, we do that by socializing with the people who are nearest to us and ignoring most of the other party-goers. On Twitter, it means paying closest attention to those we know or that we find most interesting and skimming everyone else's tweets. The result? Drive-by tweeting. We stop by Twitter, send out a quick tweet, and then move on to the next task on our to-do list. We have a virtual monologue, pushing our products, instead of engaging members as we'd hoped.

Why does it matter?

First off, if all we're doing is telling people how great we are, we're not going to attract the people we want. Oh, they may be following us, but they're not listening. We become one of those tweeters that gets skipped over as the reader quickly scans for important or interesting information. The audience most likely to read our tweets will be other credit union folk, and it's tough to argue that the credit union echo chamber will help us achieve our strategic goals.

Second, and more importantly, by forcing ourselves to filter out the noise, we inevitably miss the important tweets that we should respond to. For instance, did one of our followers mention that he or she is seeking a new provider of financial services? If we're drive-by tweeting, we are bound to miss an opportunity to show the value of our services.That's no good.

This is not to say that tweeting about rates and the benefits of credit unions is necessarily a bad thing, but if your intention is to build stronger member relationships, you may be missing the mark. 

Posted by Christopher Stevenson

There is a gas station and convenience store called Kwik Trip about a half mile from my house. I stop by most days to grab a quick cup of coffee (which is pretty good for a gas station), but it's also common for me to make a run on Saturday morning or on my way home from work to get eggs, butter or milk. Surprisingly, their prices on these essentials are as good or better than many of the big grocery stores in the area. The store is clean and the staff is friendly, saying things like, "See you next time!" when I check out. There's another convenience store directly across the street from Kwik Trip, but with all the good things Kwik Trip offers, I don't see a reason to switch, and based on the amount of traffic in the parking lot, many others agree. 

This weekend I ran to the store to get a gallon of milk. When I checked out, the woman behind the counter asked if I belonged to their Gallons for Gallons club. I didn't. She gave me a punch card with dancing cows on it and explained that if I buy 10 gallons of milk or orange juice, I get a dollar off my next purchase.

Now, I already have a Costanza wallet , but I'm not opposed to adding another punch card if it will save me some money, so I took the card. But two things struck me as wrong with Kwik Trip's plan.

First, the punch card is a half inch longer than a standard credit card. It won't fit into a man's bi-fold wallet, so it will be relegated to my jacket pocket or the back pocket of my jeans. How hard is it to make sure a punch card is the same size as a standard credit card? (My completely uneducated guess is that that accounting department told the marketing department that they'd have to sell 10 gallons of milk to make up the print costs and one dollar discount, so the card had to be large enough to accommodate that many punches. Never mind design.)

Second, why does Kwik Trip need to add a punch card program? They already have the best local prices on milk. They offer good service and competitive gas prices, and they have a strong competitive position in their markets. It seems like a needless expense with questionable benefit.

Why isn't Kwik Trip putting their energy toward leveraging and communicating their strengths rather than developing some arbitrary and badly designed loyalty card program? Is the average milk buyer going to choose Kwik Trip over a competitor because they know they can save one dollar after spending $20 on milk? Probably not. Will new customers try Kwik Trip so they can join Gallons for Gallons? No. So, what's the point? There's no competitive advantage, but there's significant expense in the execution.

It's a challenge I think many marketers face. They're charged with improving loyalty and building business; a loyalty program seems like an easy solution. The problem is that many loyalty programs are ill-defined, ill-conceived, and poorly adopted. (Just because someone has your card in their wallet doesn't make them loyal.) How do you know if a loyalty program is a good fit?

Speaking of dreaming, I would love an iPhone app for access to my account. And check deposits via iPhone, like WV United FCU as detailed in this CUES Skybox post? Don't tease me!

Also, read articles about bill pay and core processing.

CUES members can read articles about home banking from CUES Technology Edge.

Theresa Witham is a CUES editor and online banking devotee.   

Posted by Christopher Stevenson

As I've written my last few posts, I've realized something. In today's tough economy, I'm not inclined to buy anything, but if I end up buying something, I'd much rather spend my money at a business that puts some effort into the relationship. Two recent experiences reinforced this for me.

The first was at a restaurant in Japan where we ate with my wife's family. As a large party, we were  sitting in a private room. Shortly after the meal began, the owner of the restaurant entered the room and greeted us warmly. She asked how we were enjoying the meal, but then asked questions about the nature of our celebration. She showed genuine interest in our group, which invited dialog. Conversation was natural, like the owner actually cared about her customers. It was more than the typical drive-by "How is everything?" visit by the chef or restaurant manager. And since we were actually having a conversation, we felt comfortable asking questions about the food and the history of her business. (She and her husband built a successful chain of butcher shops. After her husband's death, their son, a chef, encouraged her to expand the brand to include a restaurant specializing in high-quality beef.) I learned about the the business, the things she was most proud of, and the quality of their product. In a five-minute conversation, I learned enough to know that I will return to the restaurant the next time I go to Japan.

The second experience wasn't nearly as personal as the first. I bought a TV this last weekend after going without since August. I figured with the after-Thanksgiving sales, this was the best time to buy. We shopped around looking for the best price on our chosen TV and found it at Costco (15 percent cheaper than Wal-Mart). However, it wasn't the price at Costco that caught my attention; it was an envelope labeled "Return and Technical Information" that was taped to the top flap of the box. Inside that envelope was a small stack of business cards with phone numbers for technical support and a single page that explained Costco's return policy in plain language. 

Going to a big-box store, I never expected to get face-to-face service. I didn't think there would be a knowledgeable staff person to answer my questions or the equivalent of a Geek Squad to help me with installation. They are not characteristics of Costco and I knew that going in. But Costco figured out a work-around that fits with their business model. They provided a way to assuage consumer concerns about making an expensive purchase from a store that is just this side of self-service. I didn't have to call technical support because my TV set-up is pretty plain-Jane; all I had to do was plug in the TV, attached the rabbit ears (yup, I still have rabbit ears), and turn it on. Nevertheless, having the technical support cards in front of me gave me peace of mind as I pulled my first flat-screen TV out of the box. Wal-Mart didn't have technical support; neither did Target. Would I go back to Costco to buy electronics? Yup. Why? Costco thought through the small stuff. They looked at their store from the consumer's perspective and tried to address potential concerns. I like that.

Credit unions have long paid attention to the small stuff. I was just talking with Ken Schmidt, former director of communications for Harley Davidson and closing speaker for this year's Directors Conference, and he was explaining why he has financed all 20 of his motorcycles through Landmark Credit Union. He said that when he's been waiting in line at a bank, he's never been called anything except "Next!" At Landmark, they call him by name and take an interest in him.

I'm telling you, folks, the small stuff makes a difference.

Posted by Ron Jooss

It's not an easy time to be involved with credit unions. The safety and soundness of hundreds, if not thousands of credit unions are endangered by the current corporate mess. Emotions within the credit union industry are at a fever pitch, and the tenor of the discussions taking place are anything but diplomatic. Although it hasn't garnered any headlines, the credit union industry has become fragmented.

I'm sure the passion that a lot of people hold for credit unions as been tested. "People helping people" seems pretty idealistic when you are facing a CAMEL 3 through absolutely no fault of your own. I would like to introduce to you a man that still has that passion, not for credit unions, but for soda, of all things. Just check out this video. I guarantee it will put a smile on your face. But also note, John Nese was tough enough to tell Pepsi to take a hike. This video reminded me that one of the things that has always set credit unions apart is a passion for what we do. The issues are difficult, if not downright ugly, but we can't lose sight of who we are, and what got us here.

Posted by Christopher Stevenson

Last week, I was in Michigan driving from Parchment (down near Kalamazoo) to Detroit. I'd had an early morning meeting and skipped breakfast, so by mid-morning my energy was waning. I exited at Battle Creek to see what I could find for a quick meal. I'd planned on a breakfast sandwich from McDonald's or Burger King, but then I saw Sweetwater's Donut Mill in a small strip mall.

I love donuts.

I stopped.

Sweetwater's was exactly what I'd expected it to be: rows and rows of donuts on slanted shelves behind a glass bakery counter; plastic laminate table tops and wooden slat benches; piping hot coffee in glass carafes; and a woman working the counter who called me "Darlin'." 

I ordered my coffee and donuts (don't tell my wife I had more than one) and then noticed that one wall of the shop, labeled "Sweetwater's Coffee Club," hosted two rows of cup hooks. Fulfilling their purpose, each cup hook had a coffee cup dangling from it. Surprisingly though, the cups on the wall weren't uniform coffee cups embossed with the Sweetwater's logo; each cup was different. Some were large and some were small. Some advertised businesses or vacation spots while others appeared to be handmade and rustic. Behind each hook was a small name plate that showed whose cup was on display. (I wish I had a picture of the wall; my description doesn't do it justice.)

"What's Sweetwater's Coffee Club?" I asked.

"Oh, that's for the regulars, Darlin'. The people that come in every morning can bring in their own cups. We give them a hook for their cup and call it Sweetwater's Coffee Club. That's all."

That's all? With a very simple gesture, Sweetwater's has developed a way of cementing their relationship with their customers. Hanging a person's favorite cup on the wall is the donut-shop equivalent of allowing a girlfriend or boyfriend to leave a toothbrush at your house. There's a certain level of commitment intrinsic in the act. And what has it cost the Sweetwater's? Twenty bucks in materials and a little bit of wall space. 

Keep it in mind the next time you evaluate expensive programs for improving member stickiness: Sometimes people just want a place to hang their cup.