It wasn’t the telemarketer’s fault. But I had received mail from her organization the day before, the third piece in ten days. So I had to say something.
Could she tell me what percent actually made it to the program? She dutifully put me on hold.
When I was younger, I was the world’s easiest touch. If you showed me a picture of a waif, I would donate. Door-to-door collectors, direct mail appeals, collection cans—I gave to them all and never thought twice.
I remain committed to giving away a portion of my (limited) income. But I have changed and so has the marketing of charity. I feel I must be more careful now in how I give and to whom.
Before I began working in nonprofits, I innocently believed that charity advertising was free. Perhaps at one time it was. I now know some groups spend millions on public relations and lavish salaries. Americans gave away more than $260 billion in 2005. Philanthropy is big business.
A portion of any budget should go to administration. But when, say, a third of it is going not to tsunami relief but to an advertising agency, is that honest use of the money? I am much less likely to donate to those who send me cards, books, labels, pens, magnets, stickers, ornaments, or other stuff. (I have received every one of these items.)
Theoretically, if someone gives me something, I will feel compelled to give back. But it doesn’t work that way for me. I silently calculate the cost of the item and postage and wonder why that amount (times however many thousands of these were sent), didn’t go to those in need.
Charity balls, auctions, and social events also appear to be great fund-raisers, but sometimes they cost more than they raise. The next time a representative appears touting a goal that has been met, ask yourself—better yet, ask them—if that amount is before or after expenses. You may be surprised. (Check your charity at www.guidestar.org or www.charitynavigator.org.)
So what’s a conscientious donor to do? For one thing, keep it local. It’s easy to observe local charities, especially if you volunteer. I have been donating food to downtown Milwaukee’s St. Benedict the Moor Loaves and Fishes Meal Program for more than twenty years, for instance. There is no fancy office that sends out glossy fliers or buys expensive ads. St. Ben’s simply feeds hundreds of people every day of the year.
That’s what I want my money to do—help those who need it, not those who collect it.
As for international relief, one can contribute to that locally, too. My church, like many, has a sister parish in another country. My parish holds an annual chili cook-off, and volunteers cook and serve to raise funds for supplies that then are delivered by parishioners.
When the phone solicitor took me off hold, she said she was sorry, but she couldn’t tell me what the breakdown is on donations. Nor could she give an address where I could find a financial report. (I received the address—but no specific facts—in yet another letter from the group two weeks later.) Did I still want to donate? I told her I was sorry, but I could not. She said she understood.
I hope she did. And I hope her organization realizes that sometimes people stop giving not because of selfishness but because of awareness. If you can’t tell me how much of my dollar gets to Darfur, how can I know if it gets there at all? I am obligated to be a wise advocate with my giving.
It’s the right thing to do.
