So in this chapter of our series, we’re drawing a clear line: between buying loyalty and earning it. Because if you think customers are sticking around just because you remembered their birthday with a coupon
Loyalty Isn’t a Points Program
When last we met, I was writing in my underwear. This has no bearing on what I’m writing, and when last we met, you probably didn’t notice the underwear thing, seeing as you can’t see me. So... let’s move on.
In Part 1, we poked a few holes in the idea of the loyal customer—this mythical creature who supposedly sticks around no matter what, even if your app crashes, your packaging gets weird, and your chatbot forgets how to spell. Spoiler alert: that kind of loyalty doesn’t really exist anymore, if it ever did.
What does exist is a much more fragile, transactional version of loyalty—one that’s often propped up by rewards programs and “member benefits” that promise to make customers feel special but mostly just make them do math. You’ve seen them. Buy nine sandwiches, get the tenth free. Earn 500 points to unlock the privilege of spending more money. Download the app to get early access to disappointment.
This isn’t to say loyalty programs are bad. They’re not. But they are wildly misunderstood. Too many brands are relying on perks instead of relationships, incentives instead of identity, and hoping that a points system will somehow make people care.
It won’t.
So in this chapter of our series, we’re drawing a clear line: between buying loyalty and earning it. Because if you think customers are sticking around just because you remembered their birthday with a coupon, well… you might want to sit down for this.
What Loyalty Programs Get Wrong
Loyalty programs are not the enemy. They just get way too much credit for doing way too little.
In theory, a good loyalty program is a way to reward consistent customers, thank them for sticking around, and make them feel like they’re part of something exclusive. In practice, most loyalty programs are elaborate coupon systems with a glossy interface and a name like “Rewards+.”
They focus on behavior, not belief. On transactions, not trust.
Brands love them because they’re trackable. Tangible. Easy to justify in a slide deck. “Look! Redemptions are up!” But here’s the problem: redemption is not the same as relationship. You can get someone to open your email, click your link, and even buy your product again—but that doesn’t mean they feel anything for your brand. It just means you offered something slightly better than indifference.
A lot of loyalty programs fall into the trap of treating attention like a currency. Customers are trained to jump through hoops to “earn” rewards that aren’t really rewards. They're discounts disguised as prizes. They're exclusives offered to everyone. And they’re often so convoluted that people forget what they were even trying to earn in the first place.
This isn’t engagement. It’s entrapment.
Even the language around loyalty programs has gotten bizarre. “Earn 1,000 points when you sign up.” “Unlock Platinum Tier by spending $400 in a calendar year.” “Activate your reward by confirming your subscription via QR code while standing on one leg.” What should feel like a relationship ends up sounding like a minor quest in a role-playing game.
And let’s talk about value. Not the perceived value of the points you’re handing out—but the real, human value of the relationship you’re building. Most programs offer so little emotional value that even generous point systems start to feel hollow. There’s no surprise. No delight. Just a transactional loop with a splash of branding.
At their worst, loyalty programs become a form of brand codependency. You’re not encouraging affection—you’re manufacturing obligation. And customers can feel that. They might stick around for the perks, but they’re not loyal. They’re gaming the system until a better offer shows up.
Because here’s the truth: if someone is only loyal because of your reward system, they’re not really loyal. They’re just efficiently opportunistic. Which, to be fair, is a skill worth respecting—but not a strategy worth building your brand around.
Transaction ≠ Relationship
A customer who buys from you ten times isn’t necessarily loyal. They might just be lazy. Or busy. Or moderately satisfied. Or maybe you're the only one who sells what they need in the color they like with shipping that doesn’t cost more than the item itself.
That’s not a relationship. That’s convenience.
And yet, so many brands misread repeat purchases as emotional commitment. “They keep coming back—we must be doing something right.” Maybe. Or maybe they just haven’t gotten around to Googling your competitor yet.
Buying something isn’t the same as believing in something. I believe I am the most handsome and talented writer in the world, but no one’s buying that.
You can rack up purchases without forming a single emotional connection. Just think of your last few Amazon orders. Do you feel loyal to Amazon, or do you just really like two-day shipping? If someone else offered the same delivery speed, fewer questionable ethics, and a nicer interface, would you jump ship?
Exactly.
Loyalty can’t be measured solely by frequency. It has to be rooted in why someone chooses your brand—and whether they’d keep choosing you even if a better deal came along. Real loyalty is irrational in the best way. It’s the person who drives past three cheaper coffee shops just to get “their” coffee from the place that always gets their weird oat-milk-latte-with-a-splash-of-vanilla order right.
That kind of loyalty doesn’t come from points. It comes from consistency. From the emotional shorthand that builds over time: “This brand knows me.” “They never let me down.” “They do what they say they’re going to do.”
And if that sounds like the foundation of a healthy relationship—it is. Because loyalty isn’t a punch card. It’s the slow accumulation of trust, relevance, and emotional equity. The stuff that makes someone say, “Yeah, I could go somewhere else… but I don’t want to.”
That’s the goal.
Everything else? Just transactions with branding.
The Trust Gap
If loyalty is the house, trust is the foundation. And right now, a lot of brands are building loyalty on sand.
Customers might enjoy your product, appreciate your design, or even engage with your posts—but that doesn’t mean they trust you. And if they don’t trust you, they won’t stick around. They’ll smile politely, take the free sample, and quietly make other plans.
The problem is trust isn’t something you can fake. You can’t performance-review your way into it. You can’t outsource it to a chatbot named Josh. It’s earned through behavior. Repetition. Consistency. And the minute it breaks—even a little—it’s almost impossible to repair.
And brands break trust all the time, often without realizing it.
They promise “personalized experiences” and then send marketing emails that look like Mad Libs gone wrong. They claim to care about privacy but bury data-sharing practices in legalese. They jump on every social cause that trends, then backpedal the moment things get uncomfortable. Customers are watching. And more importantly—they’re remembering.
One glitchy checkout experience. One bait-and-switch promo. One “we’re all in this together” message followed by mass layoffs. That’s all it takes. Because when the emotional baseline is skepticism, even minor missteps feel like betrayal.
This is the trust gap—the distance between what brands say they value and what customers actually experience.
And make no mistake: today’s customers are not just looking for products. They’re looking for alignment. They want to feel like the brands they choose are playing by the same rules, standing for something real, and doing what they say they’ll do. If they sense any gap between messaging and reality, they’ll disengage. Not dramatically. Not with a letter. Just silently. Quickly. Permanently.
What’s worse is that when trust breaks, loyalty doesn’t just disappear—it flips. That once-loyal customer becomes a critic. A negative review. A screenshot. A Reddit thread with receipts.
But when trust is intact? When a brand consistently does what it promises, owns its mistakes, and treats people like people? That’s when loyalty becomes more than just repeat behavior. It becomes belief.
And belief is what makes someone recommend your brand without being asked. Defend it without being paid. Stick with it even when something slightly cheaper or slightly shinier shows up.
Belief is rare. But belief is loyalty’s core.
The Loyalty Loophole
Customers are smart. Maybe smarter than we’d like to admit. They know how the game works. And when brands treat loyalty like a game, customers learn how to play it.
They’ll sign up with multiple email addresses to get that first-time discount over and over. They’ll abandon carts just to trigger a promo code. They’ll collect points just long enough to redeem something decent and then vanish like a magician’s rabbit. Poof. Gone. No emotional attachment. Just strategic extraction.
And who can blame them? That’s what the system incentivizes.
If your loyalty program is basically a shallow rewards-for-behavior scheme, customers will behave accordingly. They'll optimize. They’ll squeeze every bit of value they can and then move on to the next offer. It’s not disloyalty. It’s efficiency.
This is the loyalty loophole: the gap between what brands think they're building and what customers are actually doing. Brands think they’re fostering long-term commitment. Customers think they’re playing a low-stakes game of “How much can I get before I unsubscribe?”
It’s like giving someone a punch card at a party and wondering why they don’t want to stay for your heartfelt slideshow.
And while it’s easy to get frustrated—“Why won’t customers stick around?”—the answer is baked into the system itself. If loyalty is only rewarded with stuff, not meaning, then the relationship was always transactional. And transactional relationships don’t hold up under pressure. The moment someone else offers better stuff—or makes it easier to get—it’s over.
The real danger here is that brands start building loyalty programs that encourage gaming instead of connection. They throw more perks at the problem, add more tiers, more hoops, and more glitter. But all they’re doing is building a bigger loophole for people to walk through on their way to someone else’s checkout page.
If you’re rewarding short-term behavior, don’t be surprised when you get short-term loyalty.
But if you want something deeper—something that can’t be hacked with a promo code—then you’ve got to build it on more than just perks.
What Real Loyalty Looks Like
Let’s take a break from dragging punch cards and point systems for a second and ask a better question: what does real loyalty actually look like?
Not the kind you bribe. Not the kind you trick. The kind that sticks.
Real loyalty is when a customer defends your brand in a meeting—unprompted. When they recommend you to their friends, not because they get a referral bonus, but because they actually want people to know about you. When they don’t jump ship the second a competitor runs a flash sale because they feel a weird sense of allegiance that even they can’t fully explain.
It’s the kind of loyalty that shows up when things go wrong. When there’s a delay, or a mistake, or a shipping issue—and instead of rage-posting about it, the customer gives you the benefit of the doubt. Because your past consistency has earned you that much grace.
And no, that kind of loyalty doesn’t come from a dashboard or a tier system. It comes from human things. The slow build of trust. Shared values. Emotional resonance. An actual connection, not a conditional offer.
Take Patagonia. People aren’t loyal to Patagonia because of a rewards program. They’re loyal because Patagonia has principles—and they live them. From environmental activism to the “Don’t Buy This Jacket” campaign, the brand has built a reputation that extends beyond products. When people buy Patagonia, they feel like they’re buying into something bigger than fleece.
Or Trader Joe’s. There’s no app. No loyalty program. No gamified rewards system. Just consistent quality, quirky charm, and a store experience that feels weirdly delightful for a place that sells frozen mango chunks. That’s loyalty built on emotional repetition. You go there, it feels good, and you want to go back.
And then there’s brands that win loyalty through identity. Think Glossier in its early days, or Liquid Death with its absurdly committed tone. You don’t just buy their product—you buy the vibe. You adopt the persona. You become part of the tribe.
These brands aren’t chasing loyalty—they’re cultivating belonging. And belonging beats bribery every single time.
That’s what real loyalty looks like. It’s not about hooking people. It’s about being the kind of brand people want to stick with, even when there’s no perk attached. Even when it costs a little more. Even when no one’s keeping score.
Summing Up
Loyalty isn’t dead. It’s just misunderstood. Somewhere along the way, brands started confusing habit with love, convenience with connection, and rewards with relationship. They built programs that trained customers to behave—but not to believe.
And belief? That’s the stuff real loyalty is made of.
Customers aren’t asking for more points. They’re asking for more meaning. They want brands that see them, get them, and respect them—not as data points or conversion stats, but as actual people. If they’re going to stick around, it’s not because you promised 20% off. It’s because you gave them a reason to care—and then kept giving it, over and over again.
So yes, run your programs if you must. Offer the points, the perks, the early access to moderately exciting products. But don’t mistake that for loyalty. And don’t be surprised when customers take the goodies and walk away.
If you want them to stay, you’ll have to give them something bigger. Something human. Something true.
And maybe—just maybe—you’ll become one of the rare brands people are actually loyal to.
Up Next
In Part 3 of The Loyalty Problem: Why Brands Can’t Keep Friends, we’ll dig into trust—how fragile it is, how often brands underestimate it, and why even small betrayals can unravel years of good will.
Because if loyalty is a house, trust is the foundation. And a lot of brands are building on a sinkhole.
Stay tuned.
