We’re all well
aware of the ongoing buzz around UX. In a landscape laden with digital and
augmented experiences, we’re surrounded by terms like “user journey”, “pathing”,
“experiential flows”. But these catchphrases are almost always delegated to describing
what we’re doing online. Which is a big miss. Case and point: My gym experience
this morning.
Crunch Fitness
recently launched a new website, which enables members to reserve class
spots up to 36 hours in advance. I support this practice in theory: It’s nice
to lock in your attendance ahead of time and then go about the rest of your
next day and half with the comfort that when you show up you’re IN. (Previously, there was a 1 hour “open” period at the front desk which inevitably
caused a gym rate traffic jam, in addition to leaving you with an
annoying 50 minutes to kill before the class even started). Kudos on this, at
least.
But here’s the flaw:
Even if you’ve signed up online, you’re still required to get there 10 minutes
beforehand to check in (yes, I am in fact Veronica Wilson, and am present for
this spin class). Sometimes you receive a bracelet, other times just a friendly
nod. But without fail there are a handful of people lurking around the desk,
hoping that someone who signed up doesn’t actually show up, freeing up a spot they can suddenly snag. These people
complicate things tremendously. They start taking the recently available places
and then Joe, who did sign up online, appears at T minus 2 minutes, out of breath, explaining how
the subway was delayed, but look, there’s his name on the sheet that was
printed off the internet!
Chaos ensues,
things slip through the cracks, and as those of us who followed the rules get
settled in to our bikes, the announcement comes: Everyone get off their bikes
and go stand outside. We’re going to do roll call. An awkward and frustrated
cluster of us move outside and wait to hear our name shouted out by the front
desk employee as we physically check in, again,
as if we were a class of 5th graders, some of whom are trying to cut
the line and get lunch first. Class starts 15 minutes late, and though the
anger may fuel a better ride in the end, it’s hard to appreciate any of it.
So, unfortunately,
Crunch has made themselves a prime example of how the online-to-offline
experience can quickly fall apart if not executed properly. (Note: I have been,
and remain, a happy and loyal Crunch member, so this piece should be taken as constructive criticism).
Do I think Crunch
should scrap the online signup process? No. But I do think they should remember
what they’ve been historically good at: Giving people a positive, efficient,
and accessible workout. But upping your digital game shouldn’t mean compromising your
core value proposition if you’re an offline business. It should be about
complimenting and enhancing what it is people already use you for: If the
online process won’t actually make my workout experience any better, I don’t care
how cool it looks.
At Recyclebank,
we talk about the potential to use online tools to catalyze offline action all
the time. I think that companies that do this best (ex:Tough Mudder, who embodies
the concept of offline experience acting as their own form of social currency) are
poised for the greatest long-term success. So to all the companies out there that have digital side and an offline side, please think of UX as something
that very much traverses the two. I promise a more holistic approach will ensure a better entire experience for everyone.
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