CU storytelling and “the Superman problem”

Created in 1938, Superman is arguably the most well-known character in modern storytelling. When he’s at his best, nothing can stand in his way. Because he’s the flawless embodiment of strength, timing, execution, and motivation, the defeat of his enemies is assured.

We credit union folk like that. HR may frown on capes in the office (their loss), but we still strive for Superman’s invincibility and perfection. We want our stories to show how we are heroically and sacrificially saving some small corner of the world for our members.

And before someone counters with the well-worn “the member is the hero, not us” argument, even if we trade the hero’s cape for the guide’s map, we still tend to cast ourselves as unfailingly wise professionals with the perfect solution at the perfect moment.

In those stories, we don’t hesitate, struggle, or doubt. We solve the member’s problem. They grin. We grin. The logo fades in. The stock music swells. The End.

To be clear, we need those stories of everyday excellence. They build trust, credibility, and confidence. 

But if they’re the only ones we’re telling, we’ll have a catalog of narratives where we did everything right and when victory was guaranteed. That’s not good. 

A steady diet of Superman-always-wins stories eventually starves the audience because there’s no meaningful tension, danger, or reason to stay interested. 

All great stories have risk, surprise, fallibility, and vulnerability. Without them, Superman stories suck:

“[W]hen we see Superman being an invincible god, who glides over every obstacle and always gets the girl, it strikes us as unreal and makes it exceptionally hard for us to feel investment toward the character." - Why Superman is Hard to Write For (The Closer Look)

That’s why nearly all Superman stories spend most of their time showing him being decidedly un-super: bumbling about as Clark Kent, fighting for his life against some Kryptonite-infused weapon, sacrificing himself to save someone he loves.

That’s when we connect with him, in those desperate and human moments when he's broken, vulnerable, and uncertain. 

When Superman shares our common struggles, we savor his uncommon victories all the more.

Serving members can be messy. There are awkward conversations, misunderstood policies, internal debates, imperfect solutions, regulatory and operational brick walls, and moments when no one in the room knows how things will turn out. 

These are our struggles and obstacles, our collective Kryptonite. When we remove it from our stories, we remove the tension. Without tension, there is no story, just a brochure. 

The fundamental flaw in credit union storytelling isn’t in the details, but in the emotional experience. It’s always the same. The names and problems change, but the arc and outcomes don’t. That’s why our stories get forgotten.

Again, some clarity: Those outcomes can still be positive, but they can’t always feel inevitable. 

And this isn’t about publicizing every misstep, or creating the perception that we suffer an existential crisis every time we open a checking account. 

Every once in a while, though, some credit union stories must be about when the people running them struggle, fail, fall, and rise:

Those moments humanize us to a world increasingly skeptical of our work and worth.

We don’t need to dramatize dysfunction or center ourselves as heroes. We just need to allow our occasional stakes into our stories.

Show the struggles to serve the member, not just the success. Talk about the moments when the outcome wasn’t guaranteed. Show how we wrestle with this work, not float above it. 

When we do, our stories stop sounding like announcements and start feeling like invitations to lean in and learn more.

Sounds pretty super to me.