Ghouls you wouldn't want to meet in a dark and lonely branch hallway

The CU vault of horrors

Stuck trying to come up with a costume idea for the credit union office party? Here are a few grisly ghouls you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark and lonely branch hallway.

Grumpy Gertie the Zombie Member
She’s not a ghost just yet, but she is often seen shuffling through the branch, making horrible complaining noises, and adding cream to her free coffee (and stuffing creamer and sugar packets into her purse). She’s withdrawn and deposited the same $20 so many times Andrew Jackson’s face is becoming a skull. She shrieks in horror at the thought of using a credit card, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a list of the most profitable members. But her mortgage is with the bank across the street. For a costume, grab a 1960’s pantsuit from the thrift store, sprinkle with a handful of cat hair, and suck on a lemon.

Slashin’ Sam the CFO
He’s strictly a numbers guy, he’s got a sharp knife, and he’s not afraid to use it. Can’t understand why we’re wasting time with all this silly “touchy-feely” stuff like community service, saying “hello”, or carpet. Constantly campaigning to double NSF fees. Demands 15% membership growth, but feels $500 is a generous marketing budget for the year. Secretly wants to turn the place into a bank. Costume essentials include pointy Spock ears, a big bloody knife, and a teeny, tiny, dried-out heart in a jar.

Magnificent Micromanaging Mysterio, the Vanishing CEO
Demands to be consulted on every little decision, but mysteriously vanishes when you need his approval to order toilet paper. What hare-brained management fad will he chase this week? It’s a mystery (that’s why they call him Mysterio!), but you can bet he didn’t run it past his staff before signing up, and he’ll disappear from the boring implementation meetings. For your Mysterio costume, place a suit jacket across an office chair, turn the light on, and leave the room, muttering something about “actualizing cogent member-centric excellence”.

Maggie the Poor Little Marketing Maniac
When the CEO tasked her with bringing in new members, Maggie skipped a few lunches, scraped together the tatters of her marketing budget, and ran five radio spots on the CEO’s favorite station, “Olde Fossil Oldies” last week. For a costume, duct tape the holes in your shoes, patch together a nice outfit out of donated scraps from lost and found, cultivate that lean, hungry look, and nervously snatch cookies when no one’s looking. Or just wear what you normally wear to work.

Chairman Maose
He has a Grand Vision for the credit union, a Revolutionary set of ideas that will trigger a Great Leap Forward. If only the little things would get out of the way, like the rest of the Board, CU managment, Federal regulations, the laws of physics, and basic arithmetic. Convinced his career as chief scrubber in a soap factory qualifies him to direct the course of a multi million dollar financial institution. Very proud of his portrait in the conference room. For a costume, cut your hair funny, steal a uniform from a TV preacher, and stare into the distance a foot over everyone’s head. Carry ear plugs and a bullhorn.

Freaky Freddy the IT Fossil
Freddy finally got everything working in 1999 and sees no reason to ever update or expand. As long as he rules from a Death Star of 13 inch greenscreens and putty colored plastic, there’s no reason to ever learn anything new. Why the heck would anyone want to do something crazy like banking with their phone? Internet? Are you crazy? Best of all, Freaky Freddy is the only one left who has any idea how it all works, so his dusty empire is secure. Make sure your costume includes a majestic unkempt beard, velcro sneakers and a Yoda undershirt sprinkled with Cheetos dust.


Brian Wringer

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