(Or what credit unions can learn from the mind of a disgruntled big box shopper.)

Dear SuperDuperBigMart [and credit union professionals],
When your new store [read: branch] opened near my house a few months back, I deliberately stayed away for a while. About three days to be exact. Finally the lure of cheap toilet paper [read: free chequing] became irresistible.
But the line. Oh sweet-mother-of-smiley-faces, the line. It. Could. Not. Have. Moved. Slower.
And the bag of spinach I picked up was already expired. Kind of weird since you just opened. [read: What? You’re out of envelopes at the ATM?]
Then there were the carts [read: brochures and other marketing paraphrenalia] scattered everywhere. Carts crying out for some sort of cart corral, if not a full-fledged cart jockey or two.
Today, I went back. Again, the parking lot was a mess. No one greeted me when I walked in the door [read: I thought it was about relationships?]. You didn’t have what I wanted [read: practical financial advice] and the items you did have, didn’t have any price on them [read: weren’t priced right].
When it was time to check out, you only had one cashier open [read: wicket]. No problem, I thought. I’ll use the self-checkout [read: profit-maximizing, expense-minimizing ATM]. But the technology worked against me. Finally, it stopped working altogether.
"Please wait for employee assistance!" it kept announcing in its loud, electronic voice. So I waited. And waited. And waited some more. But no one came to help. They walked right by. I just stood there helpless with my juice boxes and my garbage bags [read: U.S. cheques and other transactions].
Finally, I left my cheap toilet paper [read: free chequing account] in the cart and high tailed it out of there—‘cause seriously, I don’t have time to be ignored, no matter how low your prices are [read: don’t you want my money?!].
But then I thought maybe I should tell someone about my terrible, no-good, very bad day(s), so I logged onto your website. I used all 150 allowed words to tell you my story and then you sent me this—or rather, your computer did:
PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS E-MAIL
Please be advised that your email has been sent to the Customer Relations Department. You will receive a response in the shortest possible time. We thank you for visiting www.SuperDuperBigMart.com. We look forward to serving you on your next visit. Thank you.
Pardon me? The shortest possible time? By whose assessment? Not mine, obviously, or you would have responded by now. How about an actual service promise?
Making matters worse, I also read this on your website:
SuperDuperBigMart is committed to giving Canadians the best shopping experience in the marketplace by delivering everyday low prices, exceptional customer service, top-quality merchandise, and extensive community involvement, philanthropy and corporate social responsibility. SuperDuperBigMart has repeatedly listed among the 50 Best Companies to Work for in Canada, as published in Report on Business Magazine.
You know. I’ve always wondered what makes people go postal [read: bank?]. And now I know. Thank you, SuperDuperBigMart, for reminding me there’s more to being super than just having 'SuperDuper' in your name.
Oh, and if you’re thinking of calling me today, please note I’ll be out re-buying all the things I tried to buy at your store yesterday, this time with my three-year-old in tow. [read: Where is Mount Lehman Credit Union anyway?]
Signed,
Some crazy lady in Surrey
Colleen
About our guest blogger: Colleen Pepper is a freelance writer and editor specializing in the credit union industry since 2001. Colleen writes radio spots, campaign collateral and more serious things like annual reports, brochures and newsletters. This week a client asked her to write a letter telling members their account manager died, demonstrating that she can do funny and funerals—although whether a letter is the right choice for the latter is a blog in itself. Colleen has a B.A. in Communications and History from Trinity Western University. In her spare time, she is a mom and aspiring mystery shopper. She’s recently discovered how much she hates SuperDuperBigMart—or at least the sparkly, brand new one by her house.