Every single participant in this study said the same thing. I did not expect that level of consensus.
I ran a study with 6 American consumers to understand how people really feel about cash advance apps like Brigit, Dave, and Earnin. These apps promise "no interest" advances on your paycheck, usually up to $250, but charge subscription fees of $9-15 per month. The pitch sounds helpful. The reality, according to the people I talked to, is more complicated.
The verdict was brutal. Not a single person said they would pay a monthly subscription for access to a $250 advance. The phrase that kept coming up: "payday loans with prettier icons."
The Participants
Six Americans, ages 25-41, from rural Pennsylvania, Illinois, Minnesota, South Carolina, and Texas. A mix of project managers, operations specialists, logistics coordinators, construction supervisors, software engineers, and job seekers. All are budget-conscious, practical, and skeptical of financial products that promise too much.
What unites them: they all manage money carefully, keep emergency buffers when possible, and have little patience for apps that feel like "subscription creep" or "data farming."
What Makes People Trust a Fintech App?
The first question cut right to the heart of fintech adoption: what would make you trust an app with access to your bank account?
The answers were remarkably consistent. Trust requires transparency, control, and proof.
I don't hand a money app my bank login unless it earns it. Cute UI doesn't move me. Basics do.
Zachary, a 34-year-old project manager from rural Pennsylvania, laid out the trust checklist that echoed across every response:
Key trust factors that emerged: Bank OAuth login (not typing credentials into the app), plain-English privacy policy with no data selling, read-only access by default, FDIC information clearly stated, real human support with a phone number, simple pricing with easy cancellation, and word-of-mouth from someone they actually know.
The red flags were equally consistent: screen scraping credentials, vague "we share with partners" privacy language, pushy upsells and "instant advance" pressure, crypto features mixed with budgeting, excessive permissions (GPS, contacts), email-only support, and hidden fees.
If an app wants the keys to my checking, it has to beat my spreadsheet and not give me the ick.
Key insight: Trust in fintech is binary. People either trust completely or not at all, and the bar is high. One red flag kills the deal.
Would You Pay $9-15/Month for a $250 Advance?
This is where the study got interesting. The answer was unanimous: no.
Not "maybe." Not "it depends." Every single participant rejected the subscription model for cash advances.
Paying a subscription just to borrow against my own paycheck feels like a tax on bad cash-flow planning.
Edward, a 28-year-old software engineer and Air Force veteran, put it bluntly. He runs a zero-based budget and keeps a cash buffer. Why would he pay monthly for something he does not need?
The math problem kept coming up. At $9-15 per month, that is $108-180 per year. For access to $250. The participants did the calculation quickly: if you use it once, the effective "interest" is brutal. If you use it monthly, something is broken in your budget.
Nine to fifteen bucks is a bag of rice and eggs out here. I'd rather pay one small fee when I actually need it.
Matthew, a 25-year-old job seeker from rural Pennsylvania living with his grandmother, captured the perspective of someone with genuinely limited income. Subscriptions feel like traps. He would rather pay per use.
Key insight: The subscription model fundamentally misunderstands how budget-conscious users think. They want one-time fees for one-time needs, not ongoing payments for potential access.
Have You Ever Used a Cash Advance App?
Surprisingly, none of the participants had actually used a cash advance app. Several had considered it during tight moments but backed off.
I flirted with that kind of thing in my 20s when I was juggling gas money and overdraft fees, and it burned me enough that I built a buffer and stuck to it.
Sholom, a 41-year-old construction supervisor from Illinois, learned his lesson early. Now he keeps savings, uses a 2% cashback card, and would call his credit union before touching an advance app.
The alternatives people mentioned were revealing: credit union loans, reshuffling the budget, selling something, picking up extra work, asking family. The cash advance app was consistently positioned as a last resort, not a first choice.
If my chest gets tight reading the sign-up, I back out and stick to cash or my prepaid card.
Matthew again, describing the physical anxiety these apps create. The distrust is visceral, not just rational.
Key insight: Cash advance apps are solving a problem that their target users have already solved through other means, or that triggers too much anxiety to engage with.
What This Means for Cash Advance Apps
The research points to a fundamental positioning problem. These apps market themselves as helpful financial tools, but users see them as predatory lenders in better packaging.
Actionable takeaways for fintech companies:
1. Kill the subscription model. Users want pay-per-use with transparent, flat fees. A $5 one-time fee beats a $10 monthly subscription, even if the math is worse for occasional users.
2. Read-only by default. Let users connect accounts in view-only mode first. Earn trust before asking to move money.
3. Plain-English everything. Privacy policies, fee structures, data usage. If users need a lawyer to understand it, they will not trust it.
4. Real human support. A phone number with posted hours. Not just a chatbot named "Finny."
5. No tips, no expedite fees, no "instant" upsells. The tipping model feels manipulative. Users see through it.
6. Employer integration. The only scenario where users showed openness was employer-backed advance programs where the money comes from earned wages, not a third-party loan.
The Bottom Line
Cash advance apps have a trust problem that better marketing cannot solve. The fundamental model - paying a subscription to access your own paycheck early - feels exploitative to the very people it claims to help.
The path forward is not more features or better UI. It is a complete rethink of the business model. Pay-per-use. Radical transparency. Employer partnerships. And maybe most importantly, acknowledging that the people who need these services the most are also the most suspicious of them.
Want to test your own fintech positioning? Ditto lets you run studies like this in hours, not weeks. Book a demo at askditto.io.
What the Research Revealed
We asked real consumers to share their thoughts. Here is what they told us:
What would make you trust a fintech app with access to your bank account?
Zachary Lowe, 34, Project Manager, Rural, PA, USA:
I don't hand a money app my bank login unless it earns it. Cute UI doesn't move me. Basics do. I trust it when I see: Login happens on my bank's own page, not inside the app. Plain privacy policy that says no selling my data, in clear words. 2-step login and a quick way to kill access if something feels off. If it holds cash, FDIC info with the partner bank named, in writing. Real support with a phone number and posted hours, not just a bot. Simple pricing and an easy export/unlink button. Someone I actually know has used it without headaches.
Anthony Seiple, 27, Operations Specialist, Rural, IL, USA:
Short answer: I'm picky. If an app wants the keys to my checking, it has to beat my spreadsheet and not give me the ick. What would make me trust it: Clear, plain-English money model - tell me exactly how you make money. Read-only first - let me link accounts with limited permissions. Bank login done the right way - redirect to my bank's login page. Real support I can reach - a phone number with humans, reasonable hours. Clean permission screens - show exactly what data you pull, with toggles.
Edward Cameron, 28, Lead Software Engineer, North Charleston, SC, USA:
Short answer: I'm stingy with bank access. If you want in, prove you're boring, secure, and aligned with me, not your growth team. I'd trust it if: Bank OAuth only - tokenized access with tight scopes and expirations. Read-only by default - money movement is a separate, explicit opt-in. Transparent security posture - real SOC 2 Type II, independent pen test, bug bounty. Data minimization - exact fields collected, why, how long, and a kill switch that actually deletes.
Would you pay $9-15/month for a $250 cash advance?
Zachary Lowe, 34, Project Manager, Rural, PA, USA:
Short answer: No. I would not pay a monthly fee for a $250 advance. We budget and keep an emergency fund, so I do not need it. A subscription for access to my own paycheck feels like paying for a problem I already solved.
Princess Krebs, 34, Logistics Coordinator, Rural, MN, USA:
Short answer: hard pass. Paying 9-15 a month to borrow up to 250 feels like renting my own paycheck. I budget tight and keep a buffer, so a subscription just to cover the odd cash crunch rubs me wrong.
Matthew Madison, 25, Job Seeker, Rural, PA, USA:
Short answer: no. I don't like subscriptions. Feels like a trap. Nine to fifteen bucks is a bag of rice and eggs out here. I'd rather pay one small fee when I actually need it.