The right way to lose a customer
| The Book of the Month Club (BOMC) launched in 1926. An immediate success, it spawned other “of the month” clubs that were also successful. Over the years I have joined a few of them, including QPB, Columbia Record Club, a classical music CD club whose name escapes, and, yes, BOMC itself. The Internet has broadened the concept. Today you can sign up online for regular installments of everything from meals to razors to bacon to toys and more. And with the speed of online ordering, you needn’t limit yourself to monthly installments or wait forever for delivery. |  The steak peppercorn wasn’t bad. The portions are smaller than they look. You don’t suppose that was the intent in photographing the meal on an undersized plate, do you? |
Recently, the glut of ready-to-cook-pre-measured-ingredients-to-your-door companies like Blue Apron had caught my attention. I knew they weren’t for me, however, because you still have to cook the stuff, which smacks of work. It was Freshly that hooked me. All you had to do was pop the meal in the microwave for two and half minutes. That level of effort I could handle.
Freshly extended a compelling introductory offer, a necessity in their business, so I gave them a try. A couple of weeks later, twelve, high-end, microwavable meals about the dimensions of a Stouffer’s entree arrived at my door. Each weighed around twelve ounces, give or take. They were packed cold, not frozen.
Four meals into the twelve, this one-person jury reached a verdict. Freshly’s products were better than I’d feared but not good enough to keep ordering.
Steeling myself for what I was sure would be an ordeal, I returned to Freshly’s website to bail. A lot of companies make bailing difficult, which is a really dumb idea: Once a customer makes the decision to bail, making things difficult will not endear you.
Freshly was, pun intended, refreshingly different. Their site has easily-found, clear instructions for closing an account. They beg and plead along the way, of course, but they don’t make it difficult. Once your resignation is complete, they ask if you’d mind telling them why. I did. Not long after, I received a gracious email thanking me for giving them a try. “We’re sorry we let you down,” it said.
The experience left, pun intended again, a good taste in mouth. If you feel like giving Freshly a try, I have no hesitation assuring you it’s safe to proceed.
—Steve Cuno
Freshly extended a compelling introductory offer, a necessity in their business, so I gave them a try. A couple of weeks later, twelve, high-end, microwavable meals about the dimensions of a Stouffer’s entree arrived at my door. Each weighed around twelve ounces, give or take. They were packed cold, not frozen.
Four meals into the twelve, this one-person jury reached a verdict. Freshly’s products were better than I’d feared but not good enough to keep ordering.
Steeling myself for what I was sure would be an ordeal, I returned to Freshly’s website to bail. A lot of companies make bailing difficult, which is a really dumb idea: Once a customer makes the decision to bail, making things difficult will not endear you.
Freshly was, pun intended, refreshingly different. Their site has easily-found, clear instructions for closing an account. They beg and plead along the way, of course, but they don’t make it difficult. Once your resignation is complete, they ask if you’d mind telling them why. I did. Not long after, I received a gracious email thanking me for giving them a try. “We’re sorry we let you down,” it said.
The experience left, pun intended again, a good taste in mouth. If you feel like giving Freshly a try, I have no hesitation assuring you it’s safe to proceed.
—Steve Cuno
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