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Fundraising
Apr. 9th, 2010 11:35 amFirst off: help the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center (BARCC) raise their operating funds by sponsoring Team Venture!
There, that wasn't so hard for me to say, was it?
When you go to that page, you'll note that not every member of the team has a fund-raising page. Those who don't are me, the dog, and the kids.
I am not a salesman. "But it's for a good cause" is a reason for me to donate, but not a reason for me to raise funds.
My aversion to selling came from a very young age, for an ostensible good cause. As an 8-year-old Cub Scout, I was instructed to go from door-to-door selling tickets to some Scout Exposition. I had also been working very hard on my Cub Pack's display, so I enthusiastically went from door-to-door, the same doors that I would trick-or-treat every Halloween, with a fistful of tickets. To get the really big prizes, I had to sell more tickets than I actually had, but even the smaller prizes, including a jackknife, were well within my allotment.
Trouble was, nobody wanted what I was selling. This was crushing. To my naive self, the world was firmly ordered, and if I were sent out to sell stuff, it meant that people would buy it. To me, it was only a matter of getting there before the other Cub Scouts did.
My experience was typical; sure, there was some kid or other who managed to get the top prizes because that kid had the aptitude for selling; if people didn't want what he was selling, he'd sell them on the "fundraising" aspect, or the "won't you support big-eyed children like myself" thing, or other needling sales tricks which I, to this day, haven't learned. But most of us failed to get the jackknife.
Failed.
This experience was reinforced frequently, from the Boy Scouts selling popcorn tins to the marching band selling printed beach towels. I hated selling with the passion of an angstful teenager.
And this kept up when I was an adult. I could volunteer my time to phone banks to "get out the vote", and pass on the message to complete strangers, but I could not ask them for money. A professional fundraiser tried to get all of us volunteers to learn how to separate people from their cash, and how not to take "no" for an answer.
I found that the very definition of disrespect. Why on earth would I not respect a refusal? Why should I force myself, my views, my notions of "a worthy cause" on people who had already told me "no"?
This, of course, had the opposite effect that the fundraiser was after: rather than increase the amount of funds raised, I withdrew as a volunteer. I don't know whether I was typical in this respect; I'd left.
I'm an engineer. I deal with measurable, objective facts. I deal with constraints. I even deal with people, in the user-interface aspect. But I don't sell.
To me, selling is about the most uncomfortable thing in the world. I know that others do it, and (as I enjoy getting paid), I understand that sales are necessary.
But I have no aptitude for it. Or inclination. Or desire.
I even felt awkward saying "Sponsor Team Venture" in the opening, as we're really sponsoring BARCC; I don't want you to think any of the money is coming toward me. It's for a worthy cause.
There, that wasn't so hard for me to say, was it?
When you go to that page, you'll note that not every member of the team has a fund-raising page. Those who don't are me, the dog, and the kids.
I am not a salesman. "But it's for a good cause" is a reason for me to donate, but not a reason for me to raise funds.
My aversion to selling came from a very young age, for an ostensible good cause. As an 8-year-old Cub Scout, I was instructed to go from door-to-door selling tickets to some Scout Exposition. I had also been working very hard on my Cub Pack's display, so I enthusiastically went from door-to-door, the same doors that I would trick-or-treat every Halloween, with a fistful of tickets. To get the really big prizes, I had to sell more tickets than I actually had, but even the smaller prizes, including a jackknife, were well within my allotment.
Trouble was, nobody wanted what I was selling. This was crushing. To my naive self, the world was firmly ordered, and if I were sent out to sell stuff, it meant that people would buy it. To me, it was only a matter of getting there before the other Cub Scouts did.
My experience was typical; sure, there was some kid or other who managed to get the top prizes because that kid had the aptitude for selling; if people didn't want what he was selling, he'd sell them on the "fundraising" aspect, or the "won't you support big-eyed children like myself" thing, or other needling sales tricks which I, to this day, haven't learned. But most of us failed to get the jackknife.
Failed.
This experience was reinforced frequently, from the Boy Scouts selling popcorn tins to the marching band selling printed beach towels. I hated selling with the passion of an angstful teenager.
And this kept up when I was an adult. I could volunteer my time to phone banks to "get out the vote", and pass on the message to complete strangers, but I could not ask them for money. A professional fundraiser tried to get all of us volunteers to learn how to separate people from their cash, and how not to take "no" for an answer.
I found that the very definition of disrespect. Why on earth would I not respect a refusal? Why should I force myself, my views, my notions of "a worthy cause" on people who had already told me "no"?
This, of course, had the opposite effect that the fundraiser was after: rather than increase the amount of funds raised, I withdrew as a volunteer. I don't know whether I was typical in this respect; I'd left.
I'm an engineer. I deal with measurable, objective facts. I deal with constraints. I even deal with people, in the user-interface aspect. But I don't sell.
To me, selling is about the most uncomfortable thing in the world. I know that others do it, and (as I enjoy getting paid), I understand that sales are necessary.
But I have no aptitude for it. Or inclination. Or desire.
I even felt awkward saying "Sponsor Team Venture" in the opening, as we're really sponsoring BARCC; I don't want you to think any of the money is coming toward me. It's for a worthy cause.
