I pay a stranger $20 a month to tell me what to wear, and I've never received so many compliments.
I signed up for Stitch Fix, a service you've probably seen advertised on Facebook and other social media channels if you purchase clothing online.
Stitch Fix sends me a box of five to six new clothing items each month selected by Charrie, the personal stylist assigned to me. When I signed up, I completed a long survey that asked detailed questions about my wardrobe needs. For example, the survey asked if I work from home or at an office, and what I do for a living. Not only did this tell Cherrie I need more casual clothes than business attire, it also signaled that as a journalist, I can be more fashion-forward with my business clothing than if I were the CEO of a credit union.
The survey also included several questions about my weight, height and how I like my clothes to fit, as well as my color, pattern and fashion preferences.
I had my doubts about whether I'd like what they sent me; online reviews were mixed. But I figured it was worth a try. My closet was mostly filled with variations of my usual uniform: Solid colored Target T-shirt and ill-fitting Target jeans for work-at-home days, and whatever was on sale at Dress Barn for credit union conferences.
Stitch Fix boxes include a prepaid shipping envelope I can use to return whatever items I don't like. The only risk was my $20 styling fee, which is applied toward the cost of items I decide to keep.
When I opened my first box on the eve of GAC, I had mixed feelings. My instructions to select business attire that was professional but not a suit produced two dressy blouses I wouldn't normally have chosen myself, but I liked them. There was also a long, black, open cardigan sweater, a pencil skirt with horizontal stripes (yes, horizontal!) and a dress I decided right away would have to be returned.
Then I tried everything on and matched them with items I already had in my closet. Charrie included style cards (one is shown at left) for each item with photos showcasing different ways I could wear them.
Everything looked amazing, especially the hated dress. At GAC, my Stitch Fix items drew more compliments than I've ever received.
Needless to say, I'm hooked.
There's a membership service for almost everything you can imagine. I also subscribe to Blue Apron and receive a box of ingredients each Wednesday to make three dinner meals.
Blue Apron includes a sheet of step-by-step instructions for each recipe (shown at left) that includes photographs. The service lets me try new dishes and learn new techniques. Because all the ingredients are pre-measured, there's no waste. Best of all, I don't have to rack my brain trying to come up with something new to make for dinner, and it saves a trip to the market with my four-year-old.
The membership service economy is exploding, and in addition to subscription-based services, it also includes sharing services like Airbnb, which provides a platform for people to share their home with others for a fee, and Uber, which has disrupted the taxi industry and caused losses for medallion lenders.
It represents a drastic change in the way we purchase products and services, from a pay-per-product model to one that is membership based. Instead of focusing the business on products or transactions, the focus is now on the customer. The new growth model centers on developing on long-term relationships rather than product sales.
Long-term relationships are what most credit union strive for, but let's be honest. Other than member checking accounts, the best credit unions can hope for is to be top of mind when a member needs a car loan, mortgage or other financial product.
What if credit unions modernized membership to fit this new model? Imagine if your credit union assigned someone like Charrie to each new member. Rather than selling a car loan and checking account, she would interview the new member about his or her job, including salary, opportunity for advancement, commuting and business travel costs, and other details that would affect a household budget. She would also discuss the member's financial goals, such as buying a new car or home, improving a credit score or saving for retirement.
Then, for a monthly fee, she would provide a budget and timeline to accomplish those goals. She could even monitor the member's account history to keep him or her on track.
People pay several hundred dollars a month for a fitness trainer or career coach, why not a financial trainer, too?
Instead of sending an email alert notifying a member that his or her statement is available for download, what if credit unions sent a financial toolbox each quarter? Picture cards with photos of recommended car makes and models (for example, a member with a long commute would need a fuel efficient car), along with the member's auto loan rate and term qualifications.
The car could be purchased through the credit union's auto buying service. Credit unions could even partner with third parties to sell homes, vacation packages, investment services and services like Stitch Fix.
If you're not familiar with subscription services, it might be hard to wrap your head around the concept. Given the NCUA's push for vendor authority, the transition might not be easy, either.
But if a credit union could pull it off successfully, it would turn the entire financial services model on its head.
Heather Anderson is executive editor of CU Times. She can be reached at [email protected].
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