The human touch: A credit union’s greatest competitive advantage

It’s getting worse by the week. In the relentless pursuit of efficiency, more and more companies—especially big banks—are turning to automation. And it sucks.

If you can keep it human, you’ll have a serious competitive advantage. You’ll deliver what most banks no longer do: a connection with a real human being who actually cares.

There is a balance to be struck, of course. Members want streamlined access to routine functions—checking balances, transferring funds, making payments. But there’s a tipping point where automation stops being helpful and starts feeling like a house of mirrors—or worse, a house of horrors—for someone who needs real human assistance.

I promote the “Keep It Human” theme every single day. With so many challenges to our humanity today, I believe with absolute certainty that this is the single most important strategy for leaders and organizations to embrace—now and for the future. So, you can imagine my frustration when I recently ran headfirst into the void of automated “service.”

I have a business credit card with a major bank. I’ve had it for years, and I’ve generally been happy with it. The benefits are great—I rack up enough points annually to cover several hotel nights and flights. And until recently, whenever I needed help, I could talk to a real person.

No more.

My own fault—I left my card at a restaurant. Ironically, as you’ll see, I couldn’t reach a human there either. But let’s stick with the bank for now.

I needed a rush replacement card for an upcoming business trip. The bank’s website said to call for expedited service. No problem—except I couldn’t find the service number.

The number used to be printed on the back of the card. Well, obviously, that wasn’t an option. I checked my online statement—no number there either. A quick Google search finally turned up a customer service line. And that’s when the real fun began.

I found myself trapped in an automated labyrinth, with no option leading to a resolution—or a human being.

Having the benefit of age, experience, and wisdom, I knew that in the old days, you could just press “0” to reach an operator. Not anymore.

Each time I hit “0,” I was either sent back to the main menu or greeted with the dreaded, “I do not recognize that selection. Please choose from the following options…”

Somehow, through sheer persistence and a flurry of button-mashing, I finally broke through to a human being. Within minutes, this person helped me order a replacement card via overnight delivery. I also had them update my address, since I had recently moved and noticed the system hadn’t fully processed the change. Problem solved—or so I thought.

The rep told me I’d need to sign for the card upon delivery. Since I wouldn’t be home the next day, I asked for the tracking number so I could update the delivery instructions with UPS.

Not so fast.

The rep told me they couldn’t email or text me the tracking number. Instead, I’d have to call back later and speak to another rep to get it. Naturally, I asked for a direct number that would connect me to a real person.

That’s when it really went off the rails.

The rep admitted there was no such number. No guaranteed way to reach a human. Yes, you read that correctly: To get the tracking number, I needed to talk to a live agent—but there was no reliable way to reach one.

I called back the next morning. Another hour lost in the automated abyss. No human in sight.

Then, out of nowhere, I checked my email. There it was—an email from the bank with a tracking link.

Great, right? Wrong. My card had already been delivered—to the wrong address.

Back to the phone vortex!

I got lucky this time. After another round of frantic button-pushing, I reached a human. I wasn’t as patient as I should have been, but we updated my address (again), ordered another replacement card (again), and went over the entire process (again). And once again, the rep told me there was no reliable way to reach a human being—again.

Finally, the card arrived. The UPS driver handed it to me with a smile.

“Where do I sign?” I asked.

“Oh, no need for a signature,” he said.

Let’s recap:

This is where credit unions have an incredible opportunity.

Unlike big banks, you are part of the community. Your members own the credit union. They’re not just account numbers; they’re family. You know them personally. You have the flexibility to work with them in ways that banks never will.

I’m not a Luddite. I understand the need for efficiency and automation. But can we do it without losing the human connection? Rather than replacing people with AI, can we use it to operate more efficiently while giving staff more time to serve members—personally?

I can tell you this: My story is far from unique. People are tired of automated loops. They’re sick of self-checkout. They want to do business with people again.

I don’t have all the answers, but I do see the challenge—and the opportunity. If credit unions can embrace technology while preserving genuine human relationships, they will do what banks are unwilling to do. Keep it human. And that will make credit unions the best option—for all of us.