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The question of which charities and other causes are legitimate, and whether they use your money wisely and spend minimally on administrative costs, is of course a very important one. But that's not what I want to talk about today. Instead, I want to talk about the often-sneaky strategies and tactics used by worthwhile causes to attract new donors and get more money out of existing donors.
First, their mode of contact. Please, please do NOT phone me. Even if it's just to thank me for my ongoing generosity and share with me all the exciting things you've been doing with my donations so far. If you've traded your drugs for hugs and found love, religion and sobriety all in one fell swoop, then I'm genuinely happy for you. But instead of talking to you during my dinner hour or favourite TV show, I'd much rather just write you a cheque or buy your calendar and leave you with your dignity intact, rather than listen to your "mea culpas". These days, if I'm sending a cheque to some cause I support, I fill in "No phone calls, please" on the form provided. If the organization ignores those instructions and phones me anyway (probably getting my phone number from my cheque), then I really don't want to deal with you again, no matter how great a difference you're making in people's lives.
Then there's the door-to-door canvasser. Charities who know I support them have on occasion phoned (yes, phoned) me to ask me if I'll canvass just my own street or neighbourhood. I always tell them that I don't feel comfortable doing this. As far as I'm concerned, this is the emotional or moral blackmail approach, the idea behind it being that people are more reluctant to say no to their neighbours. The other day, a woman I'd never seen before came to my door claiming to be a neighbour and soliciting donations for a well-known charity. I put on my best sympathetic expression and said, "I'm sorry, I NEVER give to door-to-door campaigns."
Mind you, that was not quite true. If the caller has a product I actually WANT like, say, Girl Guide cookies or chocolate bars being sold in aid of a school band trip, then I'll gladly hand over a few bucks. Even if there is no product involved, but the person on my doorstep is someone I know who is planning to run a marathon to raise funds for something we both believe in, then I'm likely to donate a bit. Otherwise, though, please leave me in peace.
Now I come to the Oliver Syndrome, or "Please, Sir, I want some more." The way it works is this. The initial beg-letter comes with a pre-printed form that reads: "Yes, Mildred, I want to help you make a difference! I will give (check applicable box): $30 ; $60; $100; $200; Other (please specify). If you give, say, $100, then that guarantees that your NEXT letter from the organization will have a form that reads: "I will give (check applicable box): $100; $200; $500; $1000; Other. In other words, the amount you gave them in their "annual" campaign just two months ago is now considered to be a MINIMUM. Alternatively, they will ask you to switch to "convenient" preauthorized monthly deductions from your bank account so that they don't have to keep pestering you. Or they'll send you pretty little hasty notes and address labels as a thank-you gift accompanied, of course, by a solicitation for further donations. I don't know about you, but when I sent thank-you notes as a child, they never consisted of "Dear Aunt Mildred, Thank you for the birthday present but next year, please consider sending me something bigger and better as I'll be a year older and my needs will be proportionately greater."
The thing is, we donors have our strategies too. For example, I try to make most of my charitable donations in the last three or four months of the calendar year. That way, I'll be able to claim it on my income tax form that much sooner. I do make certain exceptions for organizations which I know have a specific time of year for their appeals - for example, daffodils for the Cancer Society or Easter Seals to benefit children with physical disabilities. But otherwise, it's more convenient for me to be able to spread out all my "beg letters" on the table at once and ensure that each organization gets an amount I can afford to give, keeping in mind the degree to which I share its goals and objectives.
I hasten to say that there are many, many worthwhile causes out there. If only there weren't such a disconnect between the needs and strategies of donors and those of would-be recipients!
First, their mode of contact. Please, please do NOT phone me. Even if it's just to thank me for my ongoing generosity and share with me all the exciting things you've been doing with my donations so far. If you've traded your drugs for hugs and found love, religion and sobriety all in one fell swoop, then I'm genuinely happy for you. But instead of talking to you during my dinner hour or favourite TV show, I'd much rather just write you a cheque or buy your calendar and leave you with your dignity intact, rather than listen to your "mea culpas". These days, if I'm sending a cheque to some cause I support, I fill in "No phone calls, please" on the form provided. If the organization ignores those instructions and phones me anyway (probably getting my phone number from my cheque), then I really don't want to deal with you again, no matter how great a difference you're making in people's lives.
Then there's the door-to-door canvasser. Charities who know I support them have on occasion phoned (yes, phoned) me to ask me if I'll canvass just my own street or neighbourhood. I always tell them that I don't feel comfortable doing this. As far as I'm concerned, this is the emotional or moral blackmail approach, the idea behind it being that people are more reluctant to say no to their neighbours. The other day, a woman I'd never seen before came to my door claiming to be a neighbour and soliciting donations for a well-known charity. I put on my best sympathetic expression and said, "I'm sorry, I NEVER give to door-to-door campaigns."
Mind you, that was not quite true. If the caller has a product I actually WANT like, say, Girl Guide cookies or chocolate bars being sold in aid of a school band trip, then I'll gladly hand over a few bucks. Even if there is no product involved, but the person on my doorstep is someone I know who is planning to run a marathon to raise funds for something we both believe in, then I'm likely to donate a bit. Otherwise, though, please leave me in peace.
Now I come to the Oliver Syndrome, or "Please, Sir, I want some more." The way it works is this. The initial beg-letter comes with a pre-printed form that reads: "Yes, Mildred, I want to help you make a difference! I will give (check applicable box): $30 ; $60; $100; $200; Other (please specify). If you give, say, $100, then that guarantees that your NEXT letter from the organization will have a form that reads: "I will give (check applicable box): $100; $200; $500; $1000; Other. In other words, the amount you gave them in their "annual" campaign just two months ago is now considered to be a MINIMUM. Alternatively, they will ask you to switch to "convenient" preauthorized monthly deductions from your bank account so that they don't have to keep pestering you. Or they'll send you pretty little hasty notes and address labels as a thank-you gift accompanied, of course, by a solicitation for further donations. I don't know about you, but when I sent thank-you notes as a child, they never consisted of "Dear Aunt Mildred, Thank you for the birthday present but next year, please consider sending me something bigger and better as I'll be a year older and my needs will be proportionately greater."
The thing is, we donors have our strategies too. For example, I try to make most of my charitable donations in the last three or four months of the calendar year. That way, I'll be able to claim it on my income tax form that much sooner. I do make certain exceptions for organizations which I know have a specific time of year for their appeals - for example, daffodils for the Cancer Society or Easter Seals to benefit children with physical disabilities. But otherwise, it's more convenient for me to be able to spread out all my "beg letters" on the table at once and ensure that each organization gets an amount I can afford to give, keeping in mind the degree to which I share its goals and objectives.
I hasten to say that there are many, many worthwhile causes out there. If only there weren't such a disconnect between the needs and strategies of donors and those of would-be recipients!
