Clubs: Stop the Online Application Forms

It shouldn’t be too easy to gain a passport to Clubland

I remember as a kid that I wanted nothing more than to have my own membership card, on my own account. It was something we all looked forward to. You would go to the office and get your photo taken—always looking anything but your best—and you would be ceremoniously handed a card. I’m terribly afraid that the pomp and circumstance has all but died out.

Now, someone from membership writes you an e-mail, and then you whip out your phone, log-in to an application you must download for the purpose, and then are compelled to reset your password. That’s what happened when I recently joined the ranks of a New York club, though, credit where credit’s due: they printed and mailed me a physical ID card.

The club app competes with all sorts of things. Those darned notifications blur into a sea of endless tech firms and people trying to reach you. And then you open your phone, and the floodgates of distraction are open. You’re no longer there; your mind belongs elsewhere.

My frustrations with app-ification of everything stem from the consequences of the digital revolution. When clubs started putting things online, suddenly, you could book a squash court or reserve a lane in the lap pool without needing to do very much at all. You could even reserve a table at the Grill Room! No more hoping that the receptionist wasn’t away from her desk or that they had no more space for the evening: you knew what was what.

But this promise of unlimited access has turned sour. You begin with the app, and you land up with poorer service across the board. Want to make a reservation for the event? You must use the app. Want to know what’s coming up? App. Want to know if there’s a court available? App. But god forbid you don’t want to make a reservation using the app. Why can’t you call? Why can’t you e-mail? Why must you sign up on the app?

Call me cranky, even curmudgeonly, but this woo-woo has gone on for too long. The world outside might be going the way of impersonal AI chatbots and IVR menus, but in clubland, that’s a strong no. The allure of clublife stems from the deep personal bonds you make, not just with fellow members, but also with everyone else around you. For every time some app will tell you there’s no seating or reservations available, I’ll raise you the seat and the reservation I was able to make in spite of the app, simply by asking.

Don’t surrender to the app. Reclaim your personhood. After all, you are a club rat, and this is Clubland.