Picking up from yesterday...
Just at that moment the door to the conference room opened and in waltzed Do-Good's Director of Development, Phil Marvelous, who said, "Rest easy, my good people. I had a feeling this subject might come up, so I’ve created a database of information about all our major gift prospects. Several weeks ago, we gathered with some staff and some of you board members and other prominent citizens of the community and volunteers and had a little Prospect Qualification Session.
“What I have for you this evening, friends, is a printout of the results of that session plus the various information derived from our donor database. The result is, I think you’ll agree, a rather marvelous listing of who we must solicit and in what order. Your names are attached to each of the prospects to whom you have been assigned, so that you will find it very easy to see not only your list of solicitations but also those of everyone else in the group.
Phil continued, "We know exactly where you're supposed to start, we've researched all the prospects and we can keep everyone out of trouble if you'll just handle your prospects in the order in which they were given you on your master prospect lists. Each of you has your own list, but we've taken the trouble to mark where there are crossovers and possible conflicts, so you'll know about those in advance. We have also researched your individual cultivation and solicitation capabilities, schedules, etc., and we are reasonably sure that your list matches your own particular time and activities schedule."
“Well, thank goodness!” breathed Martha, and Hank said “I knew there would have to be a way to sort out who to solicit first, second and third.” George sat quietly for a while, and then said, “is this what you were telling us two years ago at that training session we had about prospect qualification? I seem to remember something about combining our fundraising infrastructure and our knowledge of individuals in a way that could produce something like this.”
“You’re right on the mark,” said the Development Director. The reason we have been able to do this, I'm pleased to say, is because those of you who were on this board five years ago had the foresight to prioritize funds for a major fundraising infrastructure upgrade, which we completed the following year. Now we have a new donor database that gives us all kinds of information we need to make this capital campaign the smoothest yet. That information allows us to place prospects on your lists that have not only been thoroughly research, they have also been prioritized and ordered in such a way as to minimize any concerns any of us might have about who needs to be solicited first, second and third. We have taken the guesswork out of campaign solicitation. Isn't that wonderful? It should save you all a lot of work and a ton of grief during the campaign.
"Of course our goal is four times as large as we've ever raised before, but I know you will have absolutely no trouble making that goal because your cultivation and solicitation process has been expertly streamlined. Nothing could be easier than the assignments you have in this campaign. And it's all thanks to our board Chairman, Brent Lewis, who made it a point of honor to lead the board in the right direction for the infrastructure upgrade. Thanks to Brent, your job is a lot easier."
And with that, the boardroom erupted in a flurry of Huzzahs and Thanks to Brent. With that little matter out of the way, Brent called the meeting to order and the board went about its business of strategic planning.
Does your nonprofit board have a person with as much foresight as Brent Lewis? Hopefully that person has a better memory, too!
But this is what fundraising infrastructure can do, IF it's put in place in advance of the campaign.
Showing posts with label Bedtime Stories for Fundraisers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bedtime Stories for Fundraisers. Show all posts
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Who's On First? – Part 1 of 2
It was a dark and stormy night, as fourteen Board members sat around the polished marble conference table in the Do-Good Citywide Charity. It was the evening before the start of DGCC's largest ever capital campaign, and the following morning these Board members would be hard at work, on their phones and in their cars. They would be talking to people, asking people to contribute significantly to the marvelous new service facility that would soon be erected – one that was futuristic enough to stimulate the imagination, but cost-effective enough to satisfy anyone’s desire for frugality.
The topic they were discussing this evening had to do with approaches to donors. Everyone in the room was abuzz with excitement and they all talked at once. George’s statement about approaching Karl and Mary triggered something in Herb’s memory that he should make sure to visit the Simpsons and the Johnsons, but in reverse order. Helen and Thelma were off in one corner exchanging notes about their closest friends. Everyone was adding prospective donors to their lists.
All of a sudden, the Chairman of the Board, Brent Lewis, groaned in a theatrical voice and said, so that everyone could hear, “Where do we start? How do we know who we’re going to solicit first, second and third? I only have so much time in a day, so at best I can do five solicitations a week. But how do we know what the best order is for soliciting. If we hit Mary first, and then Sam, it might lead Sam to feel offended; on the other hand Joyce might get herself all out of joint if she’s approached before Mary gives. Oh, what are we going to do?!”
"Well that's a fine kettle of rotten fish," said Merv Thomas.
"Why didn't someone work these details out in advance," complained Marty Bloom. "I've been on dozens of boards and usually this is all worked out by the staff in advance."
"Oh you won't find anything like that around here," Herb Marwill said bitterly. I've done two other campaigns with this board over the years and have come to believe we simply can't plan things out in advance. We don't know how to do that."
(Well, the board members seem very upset. Needless to say, dear reader, we have quite a pickle here. I'll bet you've been party to a scene like this; what's your thought? Can we get some resolution on this problem, or will the board members take this little incident into the campaign as a sour note for a beginning to their effort? Ah-h-h, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow's post to see what happens next.)
The topic they were discussing this evening had to do with approaches to donors. Everyone in the room was abuzz with excitement and they all talked at once. George’s statement about approaching Karl and Mary triggered something in Herb’s memory that he should make sure to visit the Simpsons and the Johnsons, but in reverse order. Helen and Thelma were off in one corner exchanging notes about their closest friends. Everyone was adding prospective donors to their lists.
All of a sudden, the Chairman of the Board, Brent Lewis, groaned in a theatrical voice and said, so that everyone could hear, “Where do we start? How do we know who we’re going to solicit first, second and third? I only have so much time in a day, so at best I can do five solicitations a week. But how do we know what the best order is for soliciting. If we hit Mary first, and then Sam, it might lead Sam to feel offended; on the other hand Joyce might get herself all out of joint if she’s approached before Mary gives. Oh, what are we going to do?!”
"Well that's a fine kettle of rotten fish," said Merv Thomas.
"Why didn't someone work these details out in advance," complained Marty Bloom. "I've been on dozens of boards and usually this is all worked out by the staff in advance."
"Oh you won't find anything like that around here," Herb Marwill said bitterly. I've done two other campaigns with this board over the years and have come to believe we simply can't plan things out in advance. We don't know how to do that."
(Well, the board members seem very upset. Needless to say, dear reader, we have quite a pickle here. I'll bet you've been party to a scene like this; what's your thought? Can we get some resolution on this problem, or will the board members take this little incident into the campaign as a sour note for a beginning to their effort? Ah-h-h, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow's post to see what happens next.)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
King Harold and the Starlight Fantastic – Part 2 of 2
You'll recall from yesterday that it looked for all the world like Sir Mark was in a bit of trouble with King Harold in the "Starlight Fantastic."
At the point we left off, we see that Sir Mark went out and spent considerable staff time developing the project. He went to the village designer and spent a lot of money on a snazzy fundraising brochure he called a “coffee table” brochure. He went to Philanthropy Solutions to get a video done about the project for presentation to his donor prospects. There was a lot of activity in Sir Mark’s tent, and people could see things were really happening at a furious pace.
But the preparations took Sir Mark and his staff all year to accomplish. One problem after another came up and had to be solved; an addition to the plan here, a revision and re-do there. The work became very intense.
But good Sir Harold and the executive committee found itself at the end of the year looking at the budget, and still wondering where all the dollars were. One member of the committee said, “King Harold, if you’ll permit me, I thought we were going to plug that gap with new revenue. What happened? Did someone fall into the moat, or was Sir Mark consigned to the dungeon without your knowledge? We had a great plan, I see lots of activity. But where’s the million dollars we were short at the beginning of the year?”
What really happened was that Sir Mark never actually could bring himself to draw up a list of prospects; he never really visited with any prospects; he never actually made any presentations or asked for money from any prospects. The brochure turned out wonderfully! The video was top notch, a very compelling dramatization of the project. But they sat on the shelves of Sir Mark's tent. Hence, no money!
By the end of the year there was no more money in King Harold’s treasury than was seen at the beginning of the year. And yet, when anyone looked back, it seemed that Sir Mark was always in a hurry, always pressed for time, continually had lots of things going on. He was carrying out a lot of activity all the time, but, in the end, there wasn’t much more to show for all that activity than there had been in years past. His projects were wonderful on paper, but they just didn’t result in more money.
The reason this happened was that Starlight Fantastic, through its executive director, had not developed any way to help Sir Mark be accountable for his actions on a day-to-day basis. And as a result of that, nobody became aware for a very long time that, Sir Mark, deep down in his internal mechanisms and make-up, just didn’t like people that much and was afraid of them; he was unable to bring himself to go directly to anybody and ask them for money. But this didn’t show up for several years, because he effectively covered this personal and professional problem up with beautiful plans, a lot of activity and many good things to look at.
But the other side of it was that King Harold had never set any standards of performance for Sir Mark, and had never put together an evaluation process by which those standards of performance would be enforced. He really didn't know what Sir Mark was doing on a day-to-day basis, and he had never taken the time or even given substantive thought to how he might help Sir Mark achieve his financial goals the way he was achieving other productivity goals.
So one day, King Harold, as Sir Mark’s executive director, decided something had to be done. He picked up the phone and called Philanthropy Solutions and asked John Fike what he needed to do to get better performance from Sir Mark. After a half hour's conversation and having received some pertinent exhibits from that trusted source, King Harold knew exactly what to do. He first asked Mark to list on a sheet of paper, at the end of each week, how many donor prospects he had called, and how many visits to donor prospects he had made, how many prospects he had asked for financial support, and what the responses were – yes, pledge, gift, or no.
Next, he took Sir Mark’s plan for raising money, and divided the fundraising goal of $1 million into 52 weeks of the year, and set a financial goal of $20,000 for each week or $85,000 each month of the year. He gave Sir Mark a 25% factor for "slippage" each week and 15% each month.
Finally, with great regularity, King Harold scheduled appointments with Sir Mark on Monday morning of each week to review the previous week’s accomplishments and the month’s anticipated new revenue goals. He took the time to coach Sir Mark and to praise him at every step of the way. He even included a performance bonus at the end of the year IF, but ONLY IF, the $1 million goal was reached.
The result was that in 6 months, Sir Mark had accomplished his $1 million goal, and everyone, including Sir Mark himself, was totally surprised! Starlight Fantastic began to climb out of its financial woes and went on to become a healthy, successful and highly esteemed charity within that community. King Harold was pleased as punch, and the Knights of the Funding Grail became the heroes of the kingdom!
At the point we left off, we see that Sir Mark went out and spent considerable staff time developing the project. He went to the village designer and spent a lot of money on a snazzy fundraising brochure he called a “coffee table” brochure. He went to Philanthropy Solutions to get a video done about the project for presentation to his donor prospects. There was a lot of activity in Sir Mark’s tent, and people could see things were really happening at a furious pace.
But the preparations took Sir Mark and his staff all year to accomplish. One problem after another came up and had to be solved; an addition to the plan here, a revision and re-do there. The work became very intense.
But good Sir Harold and the executive committee found itself at the end of the year looking at the budget, and still wondering where all the dollars were. One member of the committee said, “King Harold, if you’ll permit me, I thought we were going to plug that gap with new revenue. What happened? Did someone fall into the moat, or was Sir Mark consigned to the dungeon without your knowledge? We had a great plan, I see lots of activity. But where’s the million dollars we were short at the beginning of the year?”
What really happened was that Sir Mark never actually could bring himself to draw up a list of prospects; he never really visited with any prospects; he never actually made any presentations or asked for money from any prospects. The brochure turned out wonderfully! The video was top notch, a very compelling dramatization of the project. But they sat on the shelves of Sir Mark's tent. Hence, no money!
By the end of the year there was no more money in King Harold’s treasury than was seen at the beginning of the year. And yet, when anyone looked back, it seemed that Sir Mark was always in a hurry, always pressed for time, continually had lots of things going on. He was carrying out a lot of activity all the time, but, in the end, there wasn’t much more to show for all that activity than there had been in years past. His projects were wonderful on paper, but they just didn’t result in more money.
The reason this happened was that Starlight Fantastic, through its executive director, had not developed any way to help Sir Mark be accountable for his actions on a day-to-day basis. And as a result of that, nobody became aware for a very long time that, Sir Mark, deep down in his internal mechanisms and make-up, just didn’t like people that much and was afraid of them; he was unable to bring himself to go directly to anybody and ask them for money. But this didn’t show up for several years, because he effectively covered this personal and professional problem up with beautiful plans, a lot of activity and many good things to look at.
But the other side of it was that King Harold had never set any standards of performance for Sir Mark, and had never put together an evaluation process by which those standards of performance would be enforced. He really didn't know what Sir Mark was doing on a day-to-day basis, and he had never taken the time or even given substantive thought to how he might help Sir Mark achieve his financial goals the way he was achieving other productivity goals.
So one day, King Harold, as Sir Mark’s executive director, decided something had to be done. He picked up the phone and called Philanthropy Solutions and asked John Fike what he needed to do to get better performance from Sir Mark. After a half hour's conversation and having received some pertinent exhibits from that trusted source, King Harold knew exactly what to do. He first asked Mark to list on a sheet of paper, at the end of each week, how many donor prospects he had called, and how many visits to donor prospects he had made, how many prospects he had asked for financial support, and what the responses were – yes, pledge, gift, or no.
Next, he took Sir Mark’s plan for raising money, and divided the fundraising goal of $1 million into 52 weeks of the year, and set a financial goal of $20,000 for each week or $85,000 each month of the year. He gave Sir Mark a 25% factor for "slippage" each week and 15% each month.
Finally, with great regularity, King Harold scheduled appointments with Sir Mark on Monday morning of each week to review the previous week’s accomplishments and the month’s anticipated new revenue goals. He took the time to coach Sir Mark and to praise him at every step of the way. He even included a performance bonus at the end of the year IF, but ONLY IF, the $1 million goal was reached.
The result was that in 6 months, Sir Mark had accomplished his $1 million goal, and everyone, including Sir Mark himself, was totally surprised! Starlight Fantastic began to climb out of its financial woes and went on to become a healthy, successful and highly esteemed charity within that community. King Harold was pleased as punch, and the Knights of the Funding Grail became the heroes of the kingdom!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
King Harold and the Starlight Fantastic – Part 1 of 2
Here's another story about fundraising:
Once, in a fabled and far off time, there was a knight who served a hardworking but relative poor king named Harold, who ruled a kingdom called “Starlight Fantastic.” The realm of “Starlight Fantastic” was a place where youth could go to sort things out, find recreation and receive counseling that would keep them interested in the crusades but also keep them from marauding friendly villages while they were waiting to join the crusades.
This particular knight, whose name was Sir Mark the Benign, was the leader of the Knights of the Funding Grail, a special group of knights bound by King Harold to devote their lives and fortunes to providing enough money for the kingdom to serve the needs of local youth. When King Harold and his minions were about to run out of money, which they did frequently, it was the responsibility of the Knights of the Funding Grail to provide whatever continuing support the King needed.
And that was, once again, the situation that had Sir Mark down in the dumps on this particular day. He was perplexed, he hadn't slept well the night before because he was thinking about what to do, and he was fast developing a bad attitude. To top it all off he thought he might have symptoms of the flu. But in reality, when he thought about it seriously, he knew he had a very difficult problem as he sought to serve his sovereign King Harold in the kingdom of Starlight Fantastic.
Sir Mark's difficulty was no usual kind of knightly predicament. It didn’t have to do with his armor not being shiny or his sword not being razor sharp. It didn’t have to do with the knightly food served in the dining hall or the availability of fair damsels to woo.
Neither was Sir Mark’s problem the result of any lack of enthusiasm for the work with young people at Starlight Fantastic. In fact, he was very enthusiastic about his work; he got along well with the young people especially those young boys who were all full of young knightly desire to launch themselves into the next crusade and win both honor and the hands of fair damsels.
Sir Mark's difficulty didn’t stem from an inability to plan fundraising programs to obtain support for King Harold’s programs either. In fact Sir Mark had great ability when it came to conceiving and planning wonderful and inspiring programs for winning new support for Starlight Fantastic.
Sir Mark’s trouble came because the people around him, including King Harold and his executive committee, his board, his program minions, were unable to figure out just how it was that Sir Mark was helping the Starlight Fantastic raise any money. Time and again Sir Mark put forth prodigious effort to create the most exquisitely crafted fundraising plan. He had a great imagination, he was a stickler for detail, and he polished each plan to perfection. But each time King Harold reviewed the Starlight Fantastic budget, there didn’t seem to be very much more money than there had been in the previous year.
For example, one day Sir Mark came to King Harold and his executive committee with a plan to raise $1 million. That was the amount that King Harold said was needed to make the budget balance for the year, and the executive group was meeting just then to find a way to care for this considerable shortfall.
Sir Mark’s fundraising plan was elegant, well-crafted, simple in design and straightforward of application. He would take the Damsels In Distress program at Starlight Fantastic, and lift it up for special funding; he would then find 25 princes of the realm to make major designated gifts to the Fair Damsels Project, and that would, in turn, free other funds for more general use, thus making King Harold and his executive committee look like geniuses. Everybody immediately saw the wisdom of this fine planand thought Sir Mark was certainly the best of fundraisers.
We'll continue with this story tomorrow and see if those fellows really did accomplish something here.
Once, in a fabled and far off time, there was a knight who served a hardworking but relative poor king named Harold, who ruled a kingdom called “Starlight Fantastic.” The realm of “Starlight Fantastic” was a place where youth could go to sort things out, find recreation and receive counseling that would keep them interested in the crusades but also keep them from marauding friendly villages while they were waiting to join the crusades.
This particular knight, whose name was Sir Mark the Benign, was the leader of the Knights of the Funding Grail, a special group of knights bound by King Harold to devote their lives and fortunes to providing enough money for the kingdom to serve the needs of local youth. When King Harold and his minions were about to run out of money, which they did frequently, it was the responsibility of the Knights of the Funding Grail to provide whatever continuing support the King needed.
And that was, once again, the situation that had Sir Mark down in the dumps on this particular day. He was perplexed, he hadn't slept well the night before because he was thinking about what to do, and he was fast developing a bad attitude. To top it all off he thought he might have symptoms of the flu. But in reality, when he thought about it seriously, he knew he had a very difficult problem as he sought to serve his sovereign King Harold in the kingdom of Starlight Fantastic.
Sir Mark's difficulty was no usual kind of knightly predicament. It didn’t have to do with his armor not being shiny or his sword not being razor sharp. It didn’t have to do with the knightly food served in the dining hall or the availability of fair damsels to woo.
Neither was Sir Mark’s problem the result of any lack of enthusiasm for the work with young people at Starlight Fantastic. In fact, he was very enthusiastic about his work; he got along well with the young people especially those young boys who were all full of young knightly desire to launch themselves into the next crusade and win both honor and the hands of fair damsels.
Sir Mark's difficulty didn’t stem from an inability to plan fundraising programs to obtain support for King Harold’s programs either. In fact Sir Mark had great ability when it came to conceiving and planning wonderful and inspiring programs for winning new support for Starlight Fantastic.
Sir Mark’s trouble came because the people around him, including King Harold and his executive committee, his board, his program minions, were unable to figure out just how it was that Sir Mark was helping the Starlight Fantastic raise any money. Time and again Sir Mark put forth prodigious effort to create the most exquisitely crafted fundraising plan. He had a great imagination, he was a stickler for detail, and he polished each plan to perfection. But each time King Harold reviewed the Starlight Fantastic budget, there didn’t seem to be very much more money than there had been in the previous year.
For example, one day Sir Mark came to King Harold and his executive committee with a plan to raise $1 million. That was the amount that King Harold said was needed to make the budget balance for the year, and the executive group was meeting just then to find a way to care for this considerable shortfall.
Sir Mark’s fundraising plan was elegant, well-crafted, simple in design and straightforward of application. He would take the Damsels In Distress program at Starlight Fantastic, and lift it up for special funding; he would then find 25 princes of the realm to make major designated gifts to the Fair Damsels Project, and that would, in turn, free other funds for more general use, thus making King Harold and his executive committee look like geniuses. Everybody immediately saw the wisdom of this fine planand thought Sir Mark was certainly the best of fundraisers.
We'll continue with this story tomorrow and see if those fellows really did accomplish something here.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Where Fundraising Starts – a Story
Once there was a Fairy Princess, who longed for her Prince Charming. She pined away every day, wondering where she was going to find her dream prince. She spent a lot of time thinking about all the wonderful things they would do together. But where would she find him?
Suddenly one day, the Fairy Princess was startled by a frog that jumped up on her windowsill. “Ribbit! Ribbit!” said the frog. Translated, that means “Hi, I’m your Prince, but you have to rub me and touch the warts on my back first.”
At first, the Fairy Princess was put off, angry and upset that anything so ugly as a frog would jump up on her windowsill and make that awful croaking noise. But the longer he sat there, the more she got used to him, and finally, she put out her hand and touched him right on the back, and rubbed her finger over his warts. In a flash the frog turned into a charming Prince!
Fast forward to two months after the storybook wedding and the honeymoon. The Fairy Princess got to thinking that a lot of her friends were in the same predicament she had been in. They, too, were wondering where their Prince Charming was going to come from. Now she knew something they didn’t. So the Fairy Princess put together an informational charity, started an email newsletter and went out into the world gathering email addresses and funds to support her “Find-a-Prince” charity.
She was a busy little princess! She spoke at public gatherings. She advocated finding and rubbing frogs in public. She lobbied Congress and the State Senate to pass laws promoting human-frog dialogue. She went door-to-door asking neighbors to contribute to the Find-A-Prince charity. She told her story to teary-eyed audiences in churches and on college campuses.
And then the Fairy Princess really got down to business. She worked up a strategic plan that showed Find-A-Prince charity saving huge numbers of frogs for fairy princesses all over the realm; she projected both the cost and the effect of her charitable activity way out to years 10 thru 15. She projected annual budgets many years into the future to show her friends and neighbors that “Find-A-Prince” was not just a shot in the dark or a flash in the pan.
She also gathered statistics that showed that the number of happy-ever-afterwards Fairy Princesses was increasing dramatically thanks to the donations from all the contributors. She told them they could all be proud of this success and the happily-ever-afterward lifestyles they brought to all those Fairy Princesses.
Most important of all – she made a “significant donation” to the Find-A-Prince charity each and every year. Because, after all, she wanted to set a good example for all the other people of her town and all those other fairy princesses who were her friends. She wanted to make sure that there was enough money coming in so all her objectives for the Find-A-Prince charity could be achieved.
Finally, the Fairy Princess became a Board Member of the Find-a-Prince charity. She gathered about her wise people who were leaders in the community and who shared her enthusiasm for turning frogs into Princes. Together they would make her charity work and accomplish great things. She did all the things she needed to do to ensure that this would happen. She did not, however, become the executive director! She left that to a frog-conversion specialist!
Suddenly one day, the Fairy Princess was startled by a frog that jumped up on her windowsill. “Ribbit! Ribbit!” said the frog. Translated, that means “Hi, I’m your Prince, but you have to rub me and touch the warts on my back first.”
At first, the Fairy Princess was put off, angry and upset that anything so ugly as a frog would jump up on her windowsill and make that awful croaking noise. But the longer he sat there, the more she got used to him, and finally, she put out her hand and touched him right on the back, and rubbed her finger over his warts. In a flash the frog turned into a charming Prince!
Fast forward to two months after the storybook wedding and the honeymoon. The Fairy Princess got to thinking that a lot of her friends were in the same predicament she had been in. They, too, were wondering where their Prince Charming was going to come from. Now she knew something they didn’t. So the Fairy Princess put together an informational charity, started an email newsletter and went out into the world gathering email addresses and funds to support her “Find-a-Prince” charity.
She was a busy little princess! She spoke at public gatherings. She advocated finding and rubbing frogs in public. She lobbied Congress and the State Senate to pass laws promoting human-frog dialogue. She went door-to-door asking neighbors to contribute to the Find-A-Prince charity. She told her story to teary-eyed audiences in churches and on college campuses.
And then the Fairy Princess really got down to business. She worked up a strategic plan that showed Find-A-Prince charity saving huge numbers of frogs for fairy princesses all over the realm; she projected both the cost and the effect of her charitable activity way out to years 10 thru 15. She projected annual budgets many years into the future to show her friends and neighbors that “Find-A-Prince” was not just a shot in the dark or a flash in the pan.
She also gathered statistics that showed that the number of happy-ever-afterwards Fairy Princesses was increasing dramatically thanks to the donations from all the contributors. She told them they could all be proud of this success and the happily-ever-afterward lifestyles they brought to all those Fairy Princesses.
Most important of all – she made a “significant donation” to the Find-A-Prince charity each and every year. Because, after all, she wanted to set a good example for all the other people of her town and all those other fairy princesses who were her friends. She wanted to make sure that there was enough money coming in so all her objectives for the Find-A-Prince charity could be achieved.
Finally, the Fairy Princess became a Board Member of the Find-a-Prince charity. She gathered about her wise people who were leaders in the community and who shared her enthusiasm for turning frogs into Princes. Together they would make her charity work and accomplish great things. She did all the things she needed to do to ensure that this would happen. She did not, however, become the executive director! She left that to a frog-conversion specialist!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Bounds of Generosity (Pt.5 of 5)
“I don’t think it’s such a big thing,” Jim said. “Craig is making much too much out of this. It’s not a matter of trust. Hell, nobody out there’s going to know anything about it. It’s between us, right here, as Board members. Who’s going to leak it from our hallowed halls? Besides, even so, it’s all money going for the stated cause. No one was robbed. The money’s going for what it’s meant to be used for. I don’t see the harm in it. And I think this trust thing has been blown all out of proportion. We need to take more of a business attitude around here anyway, and I just thought this would be one way to help in that direction. But if you guys want to do it differently, why ask me? I just offered what I thought would be a good way to do it. Obviously, I was wrong. Just do it the way you want to. Leave me out of it.”
Taking a more calm and fatherly approach, Craig said, “Besides our human service product, our most important asset, and the most important ingredient of our cause and our mission, with either service recipients or donors, and with the community at large, is the trust they have in this institution. We all work hard every day in a thousand ways to earn that trust. It’s sacred, because it means our continued effectiveness; because it means our continued existence. Nothing is as sacred as that trust.
"In this case, that means we should simply tear up those leftover lottery tickets into little bitsy pieces and throw them in the trash. It will be giving those who bought their tickets a better chance at winning. And it will keep our hands squeaky clean. Think about the fact that if we did happen to win the lottery and just one little word of this got out to the street, we’d be blasted in all the papers and our name would by synonymous with….. with…. Golan Industries, whatever you call it, or any other common business firm. Our credibility with the community and the donors would be lost. And how long, Jim, Mendel and everyone on this Board, how long do you think it would take to recover from that?”
As the room went silent again, and with deadly calm and practiced precision, Jim stood up, reached back to the coat rack for his cashmere coat, draped it carefully over his left arm and exited the room, as all eyes followed him in thoughtful, fearful deliberation. It had happened: Craig had blown it. He has said the truth. What would happen now?
Two days later, Mendel Adams was relieved as he opened the envelope from Golan Mills to find Jim’s resignation. It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t long. “Dear Mendel, Having spent the last six years on the Board of Directors of Reach for the Stars, I think it’s time I stepped aside and made way for others who might wish to serve this fine charity. Sincerely, James P. Morgan.” In the letter was a check for $5000 made out to Reach for the Stars.
Later that afternoon, as Mendel and Craig Johnson talked by phone about the whole scene, the resignation and the principles involved, Mendel reflected on some previous experiences he and others had had over the years with Mr. Morgan. He never argued; he never got angry, he never pressed his point of view outside his own company. He went where there was opportunity to do business and to do it his way. He was of the old school. Soon, Mendel didn’t know how soon, but he knew it had to happen sooner or later, Jim’s company would start to fail in the marketplace. Its practices would drive its customers away to other products. It would be sold to a better manager who would either turn it around or sell off its parts for cash. And Jim would take his golden parachute, retire and move away and hold his views and business ways to himself. He was not a leader, because he truly was not a generous man.
What, dear reader, do you think about this situation? Was Craig right? Was Jim on target or off the mark? How would you have handled the lottery suggestion? Let us hear from you; feel free to comment.
Taking a more calm and fatherly approach, Craig said, “Besides our human service product, our most important asset, and the most important ingredient of our cause and our mission, with either service recipients or donors, and with the community at large, is the trust they have in this institution. We all work hard every day in a thousand ways to earn that trust. It’s sacred, because it means our continued effectiveness; because it means our continued existence. Nothing is as sacred as that trust.
"In this case, that means we should simply tear up those leftover lottery tickets into little bitsy pieces and throw them in the trash. It will be giving those who bought their tickets a better chance at winning. And it will keep our hands squeaky clean. Think about the fact that if we did happen to win the lottery and just one little word of this got out to the street, we’d be blasted in all the papers and our name would by synonymous with….. with…. Golan Industries, whatever you call it, or any other common business firm. Our credibility with the community and the donors would be lost. And how long, Jim, Mendel and everyone on this Board, how long do you think it would take to recover from that?”
As the room went silent again, and with deadly calm and practiced precision, Jim stood up, reached back to the coat rack for his cashmere coat, draped it carefully over his left arm and exited the room, as all eyes followed him in thoughtful, fearful deliberation. It had happened: Craig had blown it. He has said the truth. What would happen now?
Two days later, Mendel Adams was relieved as he opened the envelope from Golan Mills to find Jim’s resignation. It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t long. “Dear Mendel, Having spent the last six years on the Board of Directors of Reach for the Stars, I think it’s time I stepped aside and made way for others who might wish to serve this fine charity. Sincerely, James P. Morgan.” In the letter was a check for $5000 made out to Reach for the Stars.
Later that afternoon, as Mendel and Craig Johnson talked by phone about the whole scene, the resignation and the principles involved, Mendel reflected on some previous experiences he and others had had over the years with Mr. Morgan. He never argued; he never got angry, he never pressed his point of view outside his own company. He went where there was opportunity to do business and to do it his way. He was of the old school. Soon, Mendel didn’t know how soon, but he knew it had to happen sooner or later, Jim’s company would start to fail in the marketplace. Its practices would drive its customers away to other products. It would be sold to a better manager who would either turn it around or sell off its parts for cash. And Jim would take his golden parachute, retire and move away and hold his views and business ways to himself. He was not a leader, because he truly was not a generous man.
What, dear reader, do you think about this situation? Was Craig right? Was Jim on target or off the mark? How would you have handled the lottery suggestion? Let us hear from you; feel free to comment.
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Bounds of Generosity (Pt.4 of 5)
Picking up from Friday, the question put by the director of development put Jim in a bit of a pickle. Maybe he had gotten deeper into this than he’d wanted to. He had simply come up with a quick and easy solution to what he saw as a simple problem. The organization would have more money if it won the lottery, and wouldn’t have any less money if they didn’t. It could be a wash or it could be a real win. But either way, they wouldn’t lose. So he said that.
And it was at this point that the CEO, having disciplined himself with a super-human effort, began to speak.
“Jim, I can see what it is you’re saying. But let’s take a step back here, and view the context in which we’re operating, shall we? Most of our supporters today are Baby Boomers or Gen Xers and these guys, unlike their Ike generation parents, have two unique traits. First, when they were young, television was substituted for mother’s milk. They’ve been brought up on cheap advertising, cheap programming, shady marketing deals you can drive a truck through and hundreds of instances of scandal, wrongdoing, skullduggery and greed in both government and the business world. These guys can spot a scam a mile away.
“Secondly,” he was getting wound up now. First Anabell and now this guy, Jim thought. One self-righteous morality-toting crusader after another. It was too much! I'd rather go play golf in the snow and rain, Jim thought.
Craig continued. “Donor motivation rests on two critical pillars. The first has to do with internal motivation, the satisfaction, peer approval, thanks, recognition, mutuality and companionship involved in giving to good causes that produce the kinds of goods that make society livable for many people. And the second has to do with the huge amount of trust placed by any donor in the institution to which they give either time or money. People give to people they trust. People give to institutions and causes they trust.”
Jim was just about to get up and leave. All this talk of trust was considerably beneath him. These people were nuts! What did they know about the world? They were naïve. They were impractical. They were…. well, simply wrong. About a lot of things.
But Craig went on. “If we take money donated for scholarships and buy raffle tickets, that’s bad enough, but, if we win, and pay ourselves the prize of $10,000, we’ve really cheated those who bought lottery tickets in the expectation that someone, some one person, some individual would come away a winner. And, sure, maybe we’ve hoped that such a winner might donate the prize to the scholarship fund, as some have done in the past. But we’ve increased our odds, and if we win we’re paying ourselves the prize. How long would it be before the Baby Boomer donors would hear about that? How long would it be before their trust in Reach for the Stars crumbled? How long would it be before they would be off trying to find some other charity in the world they think they can trust with their money? And how long to you think Reach for the Stars would be in business?”
The room was silent for a while, and, somewhat in embarrassment, Mendel Adams said, “Jim, how do you see this now?”
And it was at this point that the CEO, having disciplined himself with a super-human effort, began to speak.
“Jim, I can see what it is you’re saying. But let’s take a step back here, and view the context in which we’re operating, shall we? Most of our supporters today are Baby Boomers or Gen Xers and these guys, unlike their Ike generation parents, have two unique traits. First, when they were young, television was substituted for mother’s milk. They’ve been brought up on cheap advertising, cheap programming, shady marketing deals you can drive a truck through and hundreds of instances of scandal, wrongdoing, skullduggery and greed in both government and the business world. These guys can spot a scam a mile away.
“Secondly,” he was getting wound up now. First Anabell and now this guy, Jim thought. One self-righteous morality-toting crusader after another. It was too much! I'd rather go play golf in the snow and rain, Jim thought.
Craig continued. “Donor motivation rests on two critical pillars. The first has to do with internal motivation, the satisfaction, peer approval, thanks, recognition, mutuality and companionship involved in giving to good causes that produce the kinds of goods that make society livable for many people. And the second has to do with the huge amount of trust placed by any donor in the institution to which they give either time or money. People give to people they trust. People give to institutions and causes they trust.”
Jim was just about to get up and leave. All this talk of trust was considerably beneath him. These people were nuts! What did they know about the world? They were naïve. They were impractical. They were…. well, simply wrong. About a lot of things.
But Craig went on. “If we take money donated for scholarships and buy raffle tickets, that’s bad enough, but, if we win, and pay ourselves the prize of $10,000, we’ve really cheated those who bought lottery tickets in the expectation that someone, some one person, some individual would come away a winner. And, sure, maybe we’ve hoped that such a winner might donate the prize to the scholarship fund, as some have done in the past. But we’ve increased our odds, and if we win we’re paying ourselves the prize. How long would it be before the Baby Boomer donors would hear about that? How long would it be before their trust in Reach for the Stars crumbled? How long would it be before they would be off trying to find some other charity in the world they think they can trust with their money? And how long to you think Reach for the Stars would be in business?”
The room was silent for a while, and, somewhat in embarrassment, Mendel Adams said, “Jim, how do you see this now?”
Friday, November 9, 2007
The Bounds of Generosity (Pt.3 of 5)
But in the Board meeting, Jim found more trouble. In light of the upcoming gala event at Reach for the Stars, the Board was heavily involved in micro-managing its way through the event’s finances, and had come to the point where it was evident that not all the raffle tickets would be sold this year. Typically they had sold 500 tickets for a flat fee of $100 each. The CEO was apologetic, the director of development was frenetic: this year, despite the best efforts of all the staff and a troop of volunteers, there were still about 50 tickets left over. That would set them off pace, about $5000 short of their anticipated financial objective. The question before the Board was what to do about that.
Jim felt irritated, almost angry, and restless. Was it the fact that he hadn’t been out on the bike for three days? Was it Anabelle’s tempest? Was it the pitiful way the Reach for the Stars Board conducted its business? He wasn’t sure. But he was certain of one thing: if people in nonprofits would just take a business perspective, things would be run on an infinitely better basis, and the Board’s time would be better spent in strategic planning about how to gather more market share in their service populations and garner more state dollars. But nobody seemed to be paying much attention to the business aspect of things.
It was tempting for Jim to think about just buying the leftover tickets himself, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the problem in the right way. In his mind he complained that raffle tickets just wasn’t his speed this afternoon. He had to get back to work on that new product acquisition deal he was putting together. Why couldn’t this board ever just do it's job and quit messing around in every employee’s job?
As the Board Chairman, Mendel Adams, the owner of Adams and Co. advertising, one of the city’s most prestigious marketing firms, looked around the table, he found few creative ideas. So Jim stuck his hand in the air and, when recognized, said, “OK here’s what I think we should do. We should take about $5000 of the money that has been contributed by people who won’t be coming to the gala or auction, but who just want to help, and we should buy those tickets ourselves. ”
“Why would we want to do that?” asked Craig Johnson, the CEO. He could be dense at times, Jim thought, but it wasn’t his fault. He has spent his life in the nonprofit world, and, frankly, he just didn’t know or understand the business perspective. Too bad, Jim thought. With a little business savvy, Reach for the Stars could really make something of itself, really become the premiere charity about town.
“We should buy those tickets and, if we win – and our chances will be 50 in 500 rather than the 1 in 500 that we promise all the other ticket buyers – then we’ll take the $10,000 prize and put it to use as scholarships. We will have turned $5000 in short ticket sales into a very nice ten grand addition to the scholarship endowment. And, if we don't win the prize, at least we'll not be short on ticket sales. Those donations will have made up for it.”
At that, Johnson went pale, which was reflected in the face of the development chief as well. And then, Jim could see the CEO started turning red. No doubt about it, this firecracker was lit, and it was amusing for Jim to see the way Craig struggled to keep it inside. The development director spoke first, because he knew his boss would say the wrong thing just at that moment of feeling the sudden onset of an internal moral explosion. “Jim, can you say a little more about why you would have us do that? It seems very contradictory, and perhaps that wouldn’t be the best way to build trust with our donors and supporters.”
Not a bad parlay, Jim thought.
We'll see what happens next on Monday. What do you think should happen next, dear reader? What would you do if you were in Craig Johnson's shoes at this moment?
Jim felt irritated, almost angry, and restless. Was it the fact that he hadn’t been out on the bike for three days? Was it Anabelle’s tempest? Was it the pitiful way the Reach for the Stars Board conducted its business? He wasn’t sure. But he was certain of one thing: if people in nonprofits would just take a business perspective, things would be run on an infinitely better basis, and the Board’s time would be better spent in strategic planning about how to gather more market share in their service populations and garner more state dollars. But nobody seemed to be paying much attention to the business aspect of things.
It was tempting for Jim to think about just buying the leftover tickets himself, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the problem in the right way. In his mind he complained that raffle tickets just wasn’t his speed this afternoon. He had to get back to work on that new product acquisition deal he was putting together. Why couldn’t this board ever just do it's job and quit messing around in every employee’s job?
As the Board Chairman, Mendel Adams, the owner of Adams and Co. advertising, one of the city’s most prestigious marketing firms, looked around the table, he found few creative ideas. So Jim stuck his hand in the air and, when recognized, said, “OK here’s what I think we should do. We should take about $5000 of the money that has been contributed by people who won’t be coming to the gala or auction, but who just want to help, and we should buy those tickets ourselves. ”
“Why would we want to do that?” asked Craig Johnson, the CEO. He could be dense at times, Jim thought, but it wasn’t his fault. He has spent his life in the nonprofit world, and, frankly, he just didn’t know or understand the business perspective. Too bad, Jim thought. With a little business savvy, Reach for the Stars could really make something of itself, really become the premiere charity about town.
“We should buy those tickets and, if we win – and our chances will be 50 in 500 rather than the 1 in 500 that we promise all the other ticket buyers – then we’ll take the $10,000 prize and put it to use as scholarships. We will have turned $5000 in short ticket sales into a very nice ten grand addition to the scholarship endowment. And, if we don't win the prize, at least we'll not be short on ticket sales. Those donations will have made up for it.”
At that, Johnson went pale, which was reflected in the face of the development chief as well. And then, Jim could see the CEO started turning red. No doubt about it, this firecracker was lit, and it was amusing for Jim to see the way Craig struggled to keep it inside. The development director spoke first, because he knew his boss would say the wrong thing just at that moment of feeling the sudden onset of an internal moral explosion. “Jim, can you say a little more about why you would have us do that? It seems very contradictory, and perhaps that wouldn’t be the best way to build trust with our donors and supporters.”
Not a bad parlay, Jim thought.
We'll see what happens next on Monday. What do you think should happen next, dear reader? What would you do if you were in Craig Johnson's shoes at this moment?
Thursday, November 8, 2007
The Bounds of Generosity (Pt.2 of 5)
At lunch, Jim listened to Anabell’s tale of woe about a friend of hers who had just had a home foreclosed because of having purchased it on a subprime basis. One of those new mortgage products that if you didn’t read the fine print with extreme care it was designed to come back and bite you severely within the first year or two. He had heard about them, but didn’t involve himself in real estate much these days.
“What’s the beef?” he told her. “Most of those mortgage holders deserve what they get. They go to closings without a lawyer, they trust whoever comes at them with a sweet-looking deal, they’re trying to get the most house they can for a song. They don’t really understand the market, the product or the financials. But they want to look smart and they think God gave them the right to have anything they happen to glance at. They live way over their heads. What do you expect? Look at some of those starter castles out there in the township! And most of those folks come from a working class background, and they think they’re so smart for being able to have that kind of a house on that income. They think they’re moving up in the world and that’s the most important thing they think about. Serves them right, and they’re getting just exactly what they deserve.”
“Jim, that’s not fair,” defended Anabelle. “Charlie and his wife aren’t really those kind of people. They work hard for every cent they make. They have to stretch two incomes. Why shouldn’t they try to make the most of a good thing? I say it’s the mortgage lenders who should be not only investigated by Congress but they should be roasted for every dollar they charge in exorbitant foreclosure fees. Those guys are cheats right from the git-go, and they should have to pay people like Charlie for taking advantage of them.” Anabell was on a roll. It would be a while, Jim knew, before she’d settle down. He ordered another glass of wine. It might be a long afternoon.
Fortunately, at two o’clock, his PDA alarm went off, reminding him that it was time to go to the Reach for the Stars Board meeting, and he was relieved. Anabelle, while beautiful and sweet and sexy, had an occasional streak of just pure stubbornness. No matter how gently he had tried to pry her attention from her mortgage speech, it just wouldn’t work. He was actually relieved that he had another appointment to go to today. Maybe next week they’d have an afternoon to themselves. He hoped so; it had been a while since their last leisurely encounter.
“What’s the beef?” he told her. “Most of those mortgage holders deserve what they get. They go to closings without a lawyer, they trust whoever comes at them with a sweet-looking deal, they’re trying to get the most house they can for a song. They don’t really understand the market, the product or the financials. But they want to look smart and they think God gave them the right to have anything they happen to glance at. They live way over their heads. What do you expect? Look at some of those starter castles out there in the township! And most of those folks come from a working class background, and they think they’re so smart for being able to have that kind of a house on that income. They think they’re moving up in the world and that’s the most important thing they think about. Serves them right, and they’re getting just exactly what they deserve.”
“Jim, that’s not fair,” defended Anabelle. “Charlie and his wife aren’t really those kind of people. They work hard for every cent they make. They have to stretch two incomes. Why shouldn’t they try to make the most of a good thing? I say it’s the mortgage lenders who should be not only investigated by Congress but they should be roasted for every dollar they charge in exorbitant foreclosure fees. Those guys are cheats right from the git-go, and they should have to pay people like Charlie for taking advantage of them.” Anabell was on a roll. It would be a while, Jim knew, before she’d settle down. He ordered another glass of wine. It might be a long afternoon.
Fortunately, at two o’clock, his PDA alarm went off, reminding him that it was time to go to the Reach for the Stars Board meeting, and he was relieved. Anabelle, while beautiful and sweet and sexy, had an occasional streak of just pure stubbornness. No matter how gently he had tried to pry her attention from her mortgage speech, it just wouldn’t work. He was actually relieved that he had another appointment to go to today. Maybe next week they’d have an afternoon to themselves. He hoped so; it had been a while since their last leisurely encounter.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Bounds of Generosity (Pt.1 of 5)
Taking a moment between phone calls, Jim looked out at the rainy, windy fall day and remarked to himself how absolutely dreary everything looked today, and it was only two weeks ago that he had been out playing golf in 80-degree weather.
“Phone for you, Jim. It’s Hank, and he’s in a hurry.” Phyllis’ familiar voice reminded him that his secretary of 10 years was about to depart for home, marriage and family. What he would do without her was a mystery to him. When he asked, she had merely commented in a rather matter-of-fact way that her small earnings wouldn’t be needed now that she was getting married.
“Hi, Hank. What’s on your mind on this beautiful day?” Jim smiled at his wry wit.
“You know the Bratislava Brownie Mix just slipped down a few cents in profitability; it’s now below our threshold for products in that category. What do you want to do about it, Jim?” Hank was a brand manager for Golan Mills, He had come up through the ranks in his own company before Golan had bought him out, and Jim, as CEO, had retained him when he sold off that unit several years ago. He knew a good man when he saw one. Besides, Hank over the years had probably forgotten more about marketing packaged foods than Jim had every learned, so he was doubly valuable because he could spot trouble miles away.
“Yes, I thought that might happen one day soon,” said Jim. He deftly picked up the brass name plate from the front of his desk and shined it with his coat sleeve. James P. Morgan, President and CEO. He enjoyed that name plate. It had been a gift from a long-time admirer and college room mate, Marianne Murphy. She was the best!
“Our customers, however, are going to help us regain our profitability,” Jim returned his attention to the conversation. “Most of them, in all our research studies, have proven to be extremely addicted to the Bratislava Brownies, so I say we cut the mix by seven ounces, spruce up the packaging with “More Value for the Money” and “New, Enriched Recipe” and give it some better color – don’t touch that special chocolate brown, though, we paid a mint for that ink and photo process – and in about 6 months that puppy will be back on track. You OK with that?”
“OK, Jim. I thought you’d be there with me on that, but just wanted to check.” And with that Hank was gone. On to other things, no doubt, Jim reflected. Hank didn’t let any grass grow under his feet.
“Your lunch appointment is here, Jim,” called Phyllis from the other room. The intercom was on the fritz again, so they had some yodeling practice ahead of them for a few days. “Are you two eating here in the executive dining room or at the club today?”
“I think we’ll take a blustery walk over to the club, Phyllis,” Jim replied as he went to the closet to retrieve his cashmere coat. It had been a gift from Anabelle, his erstwhile mistress and today his luncheon date. She was the one who had pulled out the stops and blown the whistle on Preppy Popcorn’s attempt to stash a couple hundred million away for safekeeping just before he had bought it. She was a trooper, though, that Anabell, and pretty good in bed, too, he reflected.
(We'll continue tomorrow.)
“Phone for you, Jim. It’s Hank, and he’s in a hurry.” Phyllis’ familiar voice reminded him that his secretary of 10 years was about to depart for home, marriage and family. What he would do without her was a mystery to him. When he asked, she had merely commented in a rather matter-of-fact way that her small earnings wouldn’t be needed now that she was getting married.
“Hi, Hank. What’s on your mind on this beautiful day?” Jim smiled at his wry wit.
“You know the Bratislava Brownie Mix just slipped down a few cents in profitability; it’s now below our threshold for products in that category. What do you want to do about it, Jim?” Hank was a brand manager for Golan Mills, He had come up through the ranks in his own company before Golan had bought him out, and Jim, as CEO, had retained him when he sold off that unit several years ago. He knew a good man when he saw one. Besides, Hank over the years had probably forgotten more about marketing packaged foods than Jim had every learned, so he was doubly valuable because he could spot trouble miles away.
“Yes, I thought that might happen one day soon,” said Jim. He deftly picked up the brass name plate from the front of his desk and shined it with his coat sleeve. James P. Morgan, President and CEO. He enjoyed that name plate. It had been a gift from a long-time admirer and college room mate, Marianne Murphy. She was the best!
“Our customers, however, are going to help us regain our profitability,” Jim returned his attention to the conversation. “Most of them, in all our research studies, have proven to be extremely addicted to the Bratislava Brownies, so I say we cut the mix by seven ounces, spruce up the packaging with “More Value for the Money” and “New, Enriched Recipe” and give it some better color – don’t touch that special chocolate brown, though, we paid a mint for that ink and photo process – and in about 6 months that puppy will be back on track. You OK with that?”
“OK, Jim. I thought you’d be there with me on that, but just wanted to check.” And with that Hank was gone. On to other things, no doubt, Jim reflected. Hank didn’t let any grass grow under his feet.
“Your lunch appointment is here, Jim,” called Phyllis from the other room. The intercom was on the fritz again, so they had some yodeling practice ahead of them for a few days. “Are you two eating here in the executive dining room or at the club today?”
“I think we’ll take a blustery walk over to the club, Phyllis,” Jim replied as he went to the closet to retrieve his cashmere coat. It had been a gift from Anabelle, his erstwhile mistress and today his luncheon date. She was the one who had pulled out the stops and blown the whistle on Preppy Popcorn’s attempt to stash a couple hundred million away for safekeeping just before he had bought it. She was a trooper, though, that Anabell, and pretty good in bed, too, he reflected.
(We'll continue tomorrow.)
Friday, November 2, 2007
A Well Deserved Rest Leaves the Money Behind (Pt. 2 of 2)
Just as she was turning into the airport her cell phone rang. She answered the phone as she maneuvered her car into the parking lot and she began searching for that ever-elusive parking space.
“Hi, Jill! Congratulations on a wonderful event!” It was her boss, Jim Duffy, the Director of Development for Charity Sisters. “I just want to let you know how much I appreciated all your work to get that event ready. It went very well, I thought, and I know you’ve been really successful financially. I hope you’re feeling good about it.”
“Oh, yes,” Jill said as she backed the car into its newfound spot. “I thought everything went well last night and now I’m at the airport ready to take my well-deserved rest.”
“Well, before you do that, I have a question for you,” said Jim. Can you tell me where I can find all the names and addresses and other contact information of the people who were there last night?”
“Well, no, not right off hand,” said Jill. “That information was gathered from peoples’ registrations before the auction. I think Harriet Morris has all that information at her home. You know she was the volunteer who handled the registrations, and I think she’s just left town with her husband on their annual trip to Vegas.”
“Well, when will all that information be available for me?” asked Jim.
“Well, typically we don’t enter that data into the donor database. We know who gave to the auction, but not who purchased tickets and we don’t check that against the people who finally come to the event. You know, we’ve never done that before, why are you asking for it now, may I ask?” She was just pulling her suitcases out of the trunk and was feeling pretty irked at Jim for pulling this stunt on her now.
“Well,” said Jim, “Many of the people who were there last night are people we’ve taken a lot of time to cultivate and bring close to us through this event and we ought not let them go without some solid follow-up, do you think?” And that neatly put the “bee” back on Jill.
“Well, I see what you mean. But I don’t think we have that information, at least it wouldn’t be complete. Can I get that for you when I return to the office, or is it something my secretary Marsha could get for you?”
‘I was hoping to have those names today to start calling them. Who would have even a partial list of attendees, Jill?”
“Marsha would have something, at least she could comb the files to see what we have, and maybe that will get you started.” Jill was breathing heavily by this time. She didn’t know whether it was from anger or from toting her suitcase into the airport terminal, and she didn’t really care at that point.
“I’ll check with her, Jill. But before you go, and I know you’re in a hurry to get away to your well-deserved vacation. I want you to hear me very clearly. From this point forward in your relationship with Charity Sisters, your responsibility in special events is going to include making sure that people who come to all our events are registered, and that the data is entered into the database, and that I have a list on my desk the morning after each event with the names of all the attendees on it. And one thing more, Jill. You’re going to be joining me after each event in calling up those who attend and talking with them about their enthusiasm and about getting closer to Charity Sisters. Am I being clear about this?”
Jill had stopped in her tracks in the middle of Concourse C, just about to turn into the gate area. “Are you serious, Bill?” and then thinking it through, “Well, yes, I guess you are. I can tell by your tone of voice that your serious. Could we talk about this when I get back?”
“Yes, we can talk about it. But this is something that is going to change at Charity Sisters. We cannot afford to let these people go without some serious cultivation efforts to bring them aboard as good and perhaps even significant donors. And I believe this is the way to do it. I want you to work with me as a team to get this work done. And we need to do it right after an event, so taking vacation time to rest up after an event will not be a future part of our special event process, I want to be clear about that.”
“OK, we’ll talk when I get back. I’ve gotta go now, they’re calling for my flight. I’ll be in your office first thing Monday the 20th, OK?”
“Yes, we’ll see you then,” said Bill. “Have a good week on vacation,” and he hung up.
As she checked in for her flight, Jill was pale, trembling from the exertion of struggling with the suitcase over all that distance from the parking lot, and with anger and chagrin at this new stunt Bill had pulled on her. She was, indeed, fairly steamed. The additional problem was that she knew in the back of her mind that Bill was not only right, but that she was going to have to share new responsibilities, and that made her afraid. It was only her trust in Bill’s judgment and her belief that he wouldn’t hang her out to dry and demand more than she could produce that kept her from breaking down into tears.
After she had settled into her seat and the plane had reached cruising altitude, Jill reflected that after all she had been the one who had built up the events to the point where they were attracting the kinds of people who could make really significant gifts. Maybe Bill’s idea wasn’t so bad after all. But she sure hated to give up those post-event escapes into the wild to calm her tattered soul. She would have to work a bit on that and see what kind of compromise Bill could be wrestled into. And with that she settled into the ham sandwich she had brought from home. It was disgusting, she thought, that airlines no longer served any food on their flights.
“Hi, Jill! Congratulations on a wonderful event!” It was her boss, Jim Duffy, the Director of Development for Charity Sisters. “I just want to let you know how much I appreciated all your work to get that event ready. It went very well, I thought, and I know you’ve been really successful financially. I hope you’re feeling good about it.”
“Oh, yes,” Jill said as she backed the car into its newfound spot. “I thought everything went well last night and now I’m at the airport ready to take my well-deserved rest.”
“Well, before you do that, I have a question for you,” said Jim. Can you tell me where I can find all the names and addresses and other contact information of the people who were there last night?”
“Well, no, not right off hand,” said Jill. “That information was gathered from peoples’ registrations before the auction. I think Harriet Morris has all that information at her home. You know she was the volunteer who handled the registrations, and I think she’s just left town with her husband on their annual trip to Vegas.”
“Well, when will all that information be available for me?” asked Jim.
“Well, typically we don’t enter that data into the donor database. We know who gave to the auction, but not who purchased tickets and we don’t check that against the people who finally come to the event. You know, we’ve never done that before, why are you asking for it now, may I ask?” She was just pulling her suitcases out of the trunk and was feeling pretty irked at Jim for pulling this stunt on her now.
“Well,” said Jim, “Many of the people who were there last night are people we’ve taken a lot of time to cultivate and bring close to us through this event and we ought not let them go without some solid follow-up, do you think?” And that neatly put the “bee” back on Jill.
“Well, I see what you mean. But I don’t think we have that information, at least it wouldn’t be complete. Can I get that for you when I return to the office, or is it something my secretary Marsha could get for you?”
‘I was hoping to have those names today to start calling them. Who would have even a partial list of attendees, Jill?”
“Marsha would have something, at least she could comb the files to see what we have, and maybe that will get you started.” Jill was breathing heavily by this time. She didn’t know whether it was from anger or from toting her suitcase into the airport terminal, and she didn’t really care at that point.
“I’ll check with her, Jill. But before you go, and I know you’re in a hurry to get away to your well-deserved vacation. I want you to hear me very clearly. From this point forward in your relationship with Charity Sisters, your responsibility in special events is going to include making sure that people who come to all our events are registered, and that the data is entered into the database, and that I have a list on my desk the morning after each event with the names of all the attendees on it. And one thing more, Jill. You’re going to be joining me after each event in calling up those who attend and talking with them about their enthusiasm and about getting closer to Charity Sisters. Am I being clear about this?”
Jill had stopped in her tracks in the middle of Concourse C, just about to turn into the gate area. “Are you serious, Bill?” and then thinking it through, “Well, yes, I guess you are. I can tell by your tone of voice that your serious. Could we talk about this when I get back?”
“Yes, we can talk about it. But this is something that is going to change at Charity Sisters. We cannot afford to let these people go without some serious cultivation efforts to bring them aboard as good and perhaps even significant donors. And I believe this is the way to do it. I want you to work with me as a team to get this work done. And we need to do it right after an event, so taking vacation time to rest up after an event will not be a future part of our special event process, I want to be clear about that.”
“OK, we’ll talk when I get back. I’ve gotta go now, they’re calling for my flight. I’ll be in your office first thing Monday the 20th, OK?”
“Yes, we’ll see you then,” said Bill. “Have a good week on vacation,” and he hung up.
As she checked in for her flight, Jill was pale, trembling from the exertion of struggling with the suitcase over all that distance from the parking lot, and with anger and chagrin at this new stunt Bill had pulled on her. She was, indeed, fairly steamed. The additional problem was that she knew in the back of her mind that Bill was not only right, but that she was going to have to share new responsibilities, and that made her afraid. It was only her trust in Bill’s judgment and her belief that he wouldn’t hang her out to dry and demand more than she could produce that kept her from breaking down into tears.
After she had settled into her seat and the plane had reached cruising altitude, Jill reflected that after all she had been the one who had built up the events to the point where they were attracting the kinds of people who could make really significant gifts. Maybe Bill’s idea wasn’t so bad after all. But she sure hated to give up those post-event escapes into the wild to calm her tattered soul. She would have to work a bit on that and see what kind of compromise Bill could be wrestled into. And with that she settled into the ham sandwich she had brought from home. It was disgusting, she thought, that airlines no longer served any food on their flights.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
A Well Deserved Rest Leaves the Money Behind (Pt. 1 of 2)
Jill was excited that early fall morning but she was having a bad hair day due to the fact that the temperature and humidity was more like summer than fall that autumn. Her emotions reflected the swirling winds that blew leaves prematurely from the trees, as she bustled about her small apartment getting ready for the evening’s events. It would be a long day, indeed!
She arrived later than she had planned at the office, as she blew in the door carrying three armfuls of party favors, name tags, registration materials and other assorted paraphernalia for the auction that night.
This was the biggest night of the year’s heavy schedule of eight special events – the annual “Spend For The Poor” auction. Preparation for this year’s auction had begun within days of the previous year’s auction. It took 75 volunteers in many capacities a total of 538 hours of service to put on this event. It also absorbed a great deal of Jill’s time, since she was putting in 16-hour days for three months previous to the Friday night event. It was the largest such gala in the community and raised $75,000 annual for the Charity Sisters’ work with those who were poor and indigent in the community.
And it was Jill’s shining moment of each year. As the Director of Special Events at Charity Sisters, Jill was in charge of this event and she gave it her all. She had also scheduled her vacation to start the following Monday, just so she could collapse and have a much-needed rest after the heavy strains of preparation.
That Friday, Jill spent much of the day checking on preparations and caring for last-minute details.
The night of the event, Jill went home early to change into her fabulous gown, which was an original design by her sister-in-law’s clothing design firm, and then headed out to the Convention Center for the auction. She looked and felt fabulous! This was her night. This was the night she could be totally in charge (in a backstage sort of way) rubbing shoulders with volunteer TV celebrities, donors who owned the community’s largest businesses and constituted some of the wealthiest families of the state. She was in heaven!
The event went well. Nearly everything went off as planned. Even the high school kid she had enlisted to ply the audience with a story about the need for her scholarship to a well-known and respected local college. That had brought in $7000 just from the tables of people before the auction! The whole event was an enormous success, and she felt that hundreds of people were staying afterward just to tell her what a fantastic job she had done. She took all the praise smiling and enjoying every minute of it, right up to midnight.
And at that point, she turned the key to her apartment and opened the door, kicked off her red pumps and flopped, gown and all on the couch. Breathless with satisfaction and just beginning to feel the release of the weight and tension of preparing for the event, she fell asleep.
At sunrise, Jill was up, showered, dressed, and headed for the office. It would be Saturday, but colleagues would be present and she was ready to do the wind-up to the auction. She noted that not all expenses were in yet but she anticipated that with the revenue from tickets, auction items sold, table contributions, and other income, she would net out about $90,000 this year. She was pleased that it was well above last year’s final tabulation and would set a new record for the auction.
Finishing the wrap-up about noon, Jill headed out for the airport. Her bags had been packed for two weeks and were in the trunk of her car. She was bound for the Bahamas for two weeks’ rest and relaxation. Glad to have the event behind her, the success still swirling in her mind. There was nothing more to worry about; she was a free woman!
She arrived later than she had planned at the office, as she blew in the door carrying three armfuls of party favors, name tags, registration materials and other assorted paraphernalia for the auction that night.
This was the biggest night of the year’s heavy schedule of eight special events – the annual “Spend For The Poor” auction. Preparation for this year’s auction had begun within days of the previous year’s auction. It took 75 volunteers in many capacities a total of 538 hours of service to put on this event. It also absorbed a great deal of Jill’s time, since she was putting in 16-hour days for three months previous to the Friday night event. It was the largest such gala in the community and raised $75,000 annual for the Charity Sisters’ work with those who were poor and indigent in the community.
And it was Jill’s shining moment of each year. As the Director of Special Events at Charity Sisters, Jill was in charge of this event and she gave it her all. She had also scheduled her vacation to start the following Monday, just so she could collapse and have a much-needed rest after the heavy strains of preparation.
That Friday, Jill spent much of the day checking on preparations and caring for last-minute details.
The night of the event, Jill went home early to change into her fabulous gown, which was an original design by her sister-in-law’s clothing design firm, and then headed out to the Convention Center for the auction. She looked and felt fabulous! This was her night. This was the night she could be totally in charge (in a backstage sort of way) rubbing shoulders with volunteer TV celebrities, donors who owned the community’s largest businesses and constituted some of the wealthiest families of the state. She was in heaven!
The event went well. Nearly everything went off as planned. Even the high school kid she had enlisted to ply the audience with a story about the need for her scholarship to a well-known and respected local college. That had brought in $7000 just from the tables of people before the auction! The whole event was an enormous success, and she felt that hundreds of people were staying afterward just to tell her what a fantastic job she had done. She took all the praise smiling and enjoying every minute of it, right up to midnight.
And at that point, she turned the key to her apartment and opened the door, kicked off her red pumps and flopped, gown and all on the couch. Breathless with satisfaction and just beginning to feel the release of the weight and tension of preparing for the event, she fell asleep.
At sunrise, Jill was up, showered, dressed, and headed for the office. It would be Saturday, but colleagues would be present and she was ready to do the wind-up to the auction. She noted that not all expenses were in yet but she anticipated that with the revenue from tickets, auction items sold, table contributions, and other income, she would net out about $90,000 this year. She was pleased that it was well above last year’s final tabulation and would set a new record for the auction.
Finishing the wrap-up about noon, Jill headed out for the airport. Her bags had been packed for two weeks and were in the trunk of her car. She was bound for the Bahamas for two weeks’ rest and relaxation. Glad to have the event behind her, the success still swirling in her mind. There was nothing more to worry about; she was a free woman!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.7 of 7)
As Where and When finished, What stood forth and called for any remaining viewpoints to be expressed. But the animals felt that all had been said. So What proceeded. “I can see that this is a set of issues that are not going to be resolved easily by the Forest Council, and most likely this cannot happen today.
“Therefore,” What continued, “I am going to appoint an ad hoc Council of Charities to study this matter and report back to the Forest Council. Their job is to study current patterns of service and see where there is duplication. They are to study the economics of all this charitable work and of the fundraising efforts involved. Then they will make recommendations to the Forest Council about what degree of consolidation, cooperation, or merger would be best for all the animals.
“There should be three alternative solutions prepared and the Forest Council will place these on a referendum so that all the animals can vote on their favorite solution to the problem. In the meantime, I’m going to ask all the animals of our forest community to pledge their support for the solution as determined in the referendum vote.”
At first, there was some resistance from the various animals who represented the separate charities of the forest. Fleur grumbled that she had done a lot without having others around. Big Red said nobody could do Research and Development the way bears can. Who was a little argumentative about What’s ability to care for needs better than anyone else.
But then some voices began to be heard on the other side of the issue as more resistance mounted in the community to the idea of having all these charities around. Gradually some of the animals began to speak in support of the idea of the referendum. Morgaine the Dog said that what What had proposed by way of process was a fair and just solution and she would back whatever came of that process. Gaston Bear, in his French accent, said that as long as everyone agreed to abide by the decision of the voters, it was a good way to proceed. His brother, Emile Bear, said he thought the idea of a referendum was better than just having the Forest Council make a decision. Not wanting to be absent from the developing “bear caucus,” Squeeze-me Bear chimed in that so long as he could play music at the election tally, he was content. And then one of the more silent creatures of the forest, Garfield the Cheshire Cat, smiled his big, broad smile and gave his symbolic blessing to the proceedings.
At that point What called for an end to the commentary and asked for a consensus. “Is there anyone who has a better, more fair, just or more workable solution to this problem of the proliferation of charities?”
When there were no speeches in disagreement, What then said, “I’d like to request a nod of approval from all the animals gathered in this fair clearing today,” and everyone proceeded to give their nod. Some nodded off to sleep in the corner, others couldn’t stop nodding. But everyone basically agreed that this was the best way to find a solution to the problem of too many charities.
And so it was that the Forest Council studied the situation thoroughly and created three possible alternative ways for the animal community to proceed. On the Fourth of Martense, the anniversary of the creation of the forest clearing for the community assemblies, there was an election in which ninety-three percent of the forest animals participated. Only those who were sick an unable to vote were unrepresented. When the results were announced, everyone was satisfied that they had made a community decision that would stand the test of time.
The next day, in the Forest Café, Dr. Greyson Bear, back in his usual corner, dunked his donut in his coffee and said to Greyson Bear Jr., “That’s the best decision we’ve ever made as a community. It may be the first and only one so far, but I would definitely have to say, it was our best, and it will no doubt stand the test of time.”
THE END
“Therefore,” What continued, “I am going to appoint an ad hoc Council of Charities to study this matter and report back to the Forest Council. Their job is to study current patterns of service and see where there is duplication. They are to study the economics of all this charitable work and of the fundraising efforts involved. Then they will make recommendations to the Forest Council about what degree of consolidation, cooperation, or merger would be best for all the animals.
“There should be three alternative solutions prepared and the Forest Council will place these on a referendum so that all the animals can vote on their favorite solution to the problem. In the meantime, I’m going to ask all the animals of our forest community to pledge their support for the solution as determined in the referendum vote.”
At first, there was some resistance from the various animals who represented the separate charities of the forest. Fleur grumbled that she had done a lot without having others around. Big Red said nobody could do Research and Development the way bears can. Who was a little argumentative about What’s ability to care for needs better than anyone else.
But then some voices began to be heard on the other side of the issue as more resistance mounted in the community to the idea of having all these charities around. Gradually some of the animals began to speak in support of the idea of the referendum. Morgaine the Dog said that what What had proposed by way of process was a fair and just solution and she would back whatever came of that process. Gaston Bear, in his French accent, said that as long as everyone agreed to abide by the decision of the voters, it was a good way to proceed. His brother, Emile Bear, said he thought the idea of a referendum was better than just having the Forest Council make a decision. Not wanting to be absent from the developing “bear caucus,” Squeeze-me Bear chimed in that so long as he could play music at the election tally, he was content. And then one of the more silent creatures of the forest, Garfield the Cheshire Cat, smiled his big, broad smile and gave his symbolic blessing to the proceedings.
At that point What called for an end to the commentary and asked for a consensus. “Is there anyone who has a better, more fair, just or more workable solution to this problem of the proliferation of charities?”
When there were no speeches in disagreement, What then said, “I’d like to request a nod of approval from all the animals gathered in this fair clearing today,” and everyone proceeded to give their nod. Some nodded off to sleep in the corner, others couldn’t stop nodding. But everyone basically agreed that this was the best way to find a solution to the problem of too many charities.
And so it was that the Forest Council studied the situation thoroughly and created three possible alternative ways for the animal community to proceed. On the Fourth of Martense, the anniversary of the creation of the forest clearing for the community assemblies, there was an election in which ninety-three percent of the forest animals participated. Only those who were sick an unable to vote were unrepresented. When the results were announced, everyone was satisfied that they had made a community decision that would stand the test of time.
The next day, in the Forest Café, Dr. Greyson Bear, back in his usual corner, dunked his donut in his coffee and said to Greyson Bear Jr., “That’s the best decision we’ve ever made as a community. It may be the first and only one so far, but I would definitely have to say, it was our best, and it will no doubt stand the test of time.”
THE END
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.6 of 7)
Erin antelope, emboldened by the speeches of others involved in setting up the many nonprofits said, “Well, I don’t want my ideas about service quashed by some committee that doesn’t know better. There has to be a place for personal initiative. There are a lot of creative ideas coming forth in the community these last few years, and I think it’s a bad idea to stifle this kind of initiative.”
Leaky the Canadian goose gave it his all when he said, “This charity we’ve formed has given me a sense of personal achievement. My charitable work is a way I can help out everyone else. It also has given me personal satisfaction, and everyone who gives to our nonprofit can have that same sense of achievement and satisfaction.”
Big Red the educated bear remained on all fours, so as not to scare some of the smaller creatures, ‘It’s true, you know. You can’t tramp all over personal initiative. It’s a right of all forest animals. And we don’t all have to give every time we’re asked. You give to what you want to, let the others go away. Eventually this will all sort itself out as the forces of the market take over and weed out the weaker, less desirable charities. The best ones will survive. We’ll all need to vote by simply restricting our contributions.”
But then Homer the Lovarabbit interjected yet another issue: “We’re doing on an informal basis what our Forest Administration can’t do – we help each other when we are in need. That’s not a bad thing. It’s very much needed. It’s a way of expressing our caring, but also an avenue through which we demonstrate our ability to make that caring happen for others.”
At that point, When and Where, the groundhogs from the Forest Café, who were also recently named to the Board of Directors of the Forrest Community Foundation stepped forward. Where said, “We want to encourage all the charities to start to work together and cooperate in what they do. There are precious few resources in the forest, and we need to use them efficiently.” and Where said, “It is not appropriate that some of our residents are now earning salaries and are getting to be better off than some of the others. That brings an unwelcome inequality to the forest. We’d be much better off with some mergers and acquisitions, and if we developed ways of giving service that didn’t enrich some at the expense of others.”
Leaky the Canadian goose gave it his all when he said, “This charity we’ve formed has given me a sense of personal achievement. My charitable work is a way I can help out everyone else. It also has given me personal satisfaction, and everyone who gives to our nonprofit can have that same sense of achievement and satisfaction.”
Big Red the educated bear remained on all fours, so as not to scare some of the smaller creatures, ‘It’s true, you know. You can’t tramp all over personal initiative. It’s a right of all forest animals. And we don’t all have to give every time we’re asked. You give to what you want to, let the others go away. Eventually this will all sort itself out as the forces of the market take over and weed out the weaker, less desirable charities. The best ones will survive. We’ll all need to vote by simply restricting our contributions.”
But then Homer the Lovarabbit interjected yet another issue: “We’re doing on an informal basis what our Forest Administration can’t do – we help each other when we are in need. That’s not a bad thing. It’s very much needed. It’s a way of expressing our caring, but also an avenue through which we demonstrate our ability to make that caring happen for others.”
At that point, When and Where, the groundhogs from the Forest Café, who were also recently named to the Board of Directors of the Forrest Community Foundation stepped forward. Where said, “We want to encourage all the charities to start to work together and cooperate in what they do. There are precious few resources in the forest, and we need to use them efficiently.” and Where said, “It is not appropriate that some of our residents are now earning salaries and are getting to be better off than some of the others. That brings an unwelcome inequality to the forest. We’d be much better off with some mergers and acquisitions, and if we developed ways of giving service that didn’t enrich some at the expense of others.”
Monday, October 29, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.5 of 7)
As the time for self-expression was at hand, the first to speak was Mrs. Greyson Bear, who said, “Frankly, I’m tired of giving. It’s one thing after another. Everybody needs help, and they all need it today. And I don’t see why there need to be so many of these helping groups anyhow. We’ve never needed this in the past, and I don’t see why it’s helpful now.”
Easter Rabbit, volunteered, “I must say that even though I’m one of the founders of Helping Paw I’m really tired of being asked to donate by all the other groups. It’s hard enough to make a living running a charity, but then to have to give most of what I make away to others doesn’t really allow me to come out ahead.”
But Fleur LeBruin was on the defensive and she rose on her back legs to say, in a rather petulant way, “But don’t you folks see that so much good has been done here in the community since this started? Just about everyone is better off in one way or another.”
To which Gully Seagull chimed in, “Yes, we’ve all benefited in one way or another. I, for one, wouldn’t be in such good financial shape if it hadn’t been for our Animals in Flight organization. It’s kept me off the streets and has given me a new lease on life.”
And Toby Platypus echoed that sentiment as he said, “Life in the forest is better these days and we’re going to make it even better in the years to come. Self-help goes just so far, and then the caring and concern of the community has to take over from that point.”
Elvira Bovine, who had been hanging back in the shadows of the woods, now stepped up to the edge of the clearing and said, in her soft, lowing voice, “I think they should all cooperate, and maybe form just one helping group. There are times in all our lives when we need some sort of helping hand. And in those times it’s really great to receive assistance. But those times don’t come often, thankfully, and we really don’t need quite as much assistance as we have available now. Not when having that assistance available means we have to shell out every time someone asks us for acorns.”
“I think we don’t need so many of these groups,” said Tom Turkey. “There are too many critters going into the charity business. And it’s becoming a business. They’re all getting rich off it.”
Marvin Mouse edged closer to the Council circle so he could be heard more easily. “Why don’t they coordinate their fundraising efforts? It’s too much to have to respond to just everyone who comes by my burrow. Maybe if we could give just once a year, and if there could be some kind of central repository, then that administrative group could parcel out all our contributions to the nonprofits who qualify for assistance. Would something like that work?”
Reggie the deer, sporting a marvelous set of antlers, stepped fully into the clearing. He looked just too magnificent for words, as he said, “Why don’t’ we just go back to our old ways of doing things. Most of us have the skills, the families, the traditions of how to take care of ourselves in times of trouble. We don’t really need these charities around here. And maybe if we needed something, one group would be enough to help out in a pinch.”
Easter Rabbit, volunteered, “I must say that even though I’m one of the founders of Helping Paw I’m really tired of being asked to donate by all the other groups. It’s hard enough to make a living running a charity, but then to have to give most of what I make away to others doesn’t really allow me to come out ahead.”
But Fleur LeBruin was on the defensive and she rose on her back legs to say, in a rather petulant way, “But don’t you folks see that so much good has been done here in the community since this started? Just about everyone is better off in one way or another.”
To which Gully Seagull chimed in, “Yes, we’ve all benefited in one way or another. I, for one, wouldn’t be in such good financial shape if it hadn’t been for our Animals in Flight organization. It’s kept me off the streets and has given me a new lease on life.”
And Toby Platypus echoed that sentiment as he said, “Life in the forest is better these days and we’re going to make it even better in the years to come. Self-help goes just so far, and then the caring and concern of the community has to take over from that point.”
Elvira Bovine, who had been hanging back in the shadows of the woods, now stepped up to the edge of the clearing and said, in her soft, lowing voice, “I think they should all cooperate, and maybe form just one helping group. There are times in all our lives when we need some sort of helping hand. And in those times it’s really great to receive assistance. But those times don’t come often, thankfully, and we really don’t need quite as much assistance as we have available now. Not when having that assistance available means we have to shell out every time someone asks us for acorns.”
“I think we don’t need so many of these groups,” said Tom Turkey. “There are too many critters going into the charity business. And it’s becoming a business. They’re all getting rich off it.”
Marvin Mouse edged closer to the Council circle so he could be heard more easily. “Why don’t they coordinate their fundraising efforts? It’s too much to have to respond to just everyone who comes by my burrow. Maybe if we could give just once a year, and if there could be some kind of central repository, then that administrative group could parcel out all our contributions to the nonprofits who qualify for assistance. Would something like that work?”
Reggie the deer, sporting a marvelous set of antlers, stepped fully into the clearing. He looked just too magnificent for words, as he said, “Why don’t’ we just go back to our old ways of doing things. Most of us have the skills, the families, the traditions of how to take care of ourselves in times of trouble. We don’t really need these charities around here. And maybe if we needed something, one group would be enough to help out in a pinch.”
Friday, October 26, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.4 of 7)
The day of the Forest Council meeting dawned brightly with a sunny sky and a slight breeze out of the south that rustled the birch leaves just slightly, making all the animals tingle with a touch of fall and the anticipation of a great happening about to take place. Just as the sun was warming up the clearing the first animals arrived. They came in clusters, whispering excitedly to one another. Nearly everyone was dressed in their finest clothes and many carried picnic lunches, not wanting to miss even a moment of the proceedings.
The Forest Council, headed by the eagle, Governor What, formed in a circle in the center of the clearing so all the animals could gather around the Council and none would be left out. The Council was elected by a vote of all the animals, but most of the members tended to be representatives of smaller groups of animals who banded together to nominate someone like them. That way their point of view and special needs would be represented as input to the Council’s decisions.
There were seven council members in all. Seated beside Governor What was Lucille Seal in a new pink crocheted hat she had made just for the occasion. “Cille, as she was called, had been one of the first animals appointed to the Forest Council and had served with distinction for nearly 10 years. Next to her was Froggy DelaPond, who had on his traditional white vest. He harrumphed himself into place and was followed by the venerable Dr. Greyson Bear, who was thought to be among the wisest animals in all the forest – next to What , of course. On the other side of the circle was Freedie Fieldmouse representing many of the smaller animals of hill and dale. He had on his newest gray pinstripe suit and white shirt. Next to Freedie sat Roger Racoon, one of the newest members of the Council and a representative of the scavengers. He had been elected after the tragic death of Father Jeremy Badger the previous winter. Finally, there was Barry Bluejay representing all the birds of the forest.
When everyone was gathered and the Forest Council was in place, What gracefully glided into the clearing and settled firmly in his seat as a hush went over the assembled animals. “Today, we are gathered here to decide what to do about the proliferation of nonprofit organizations that have come into being in the last five years,” he said. “This is a subject for this Council not because charities are bad institutions, but because the swelling number of charitable groups has caused concern, embarrassment, discontent and consternation among many of our forest brothers and sisters.
“I, for one, am very glad to see that in the hearts of so many of our brothers and sisters there is a generous desire to be of help to our community, and so many creative ideas of how this can be done. It is a credit to all of you who are assembled here that we not only live in peace and harmony with one another, but that we have the inclination, the ideas and the ability to provide for each other in times of special needs or opportunities.”
He continued, “As you know, my heart is with the new nonprofits, hoping for their success, since I was the one who first got Helping Paw off to a good start.” And here he nodded to Fleur LeBruin, as a measure of recognition for her work. “I’m satisfied that we have gotten things off to a good start with Fleur’s excellent relief work among our animal neighbors.
“But the fact that so many of our community have not only seen the benefits of having nonprofits, but have availed themselves of the opportunity of a better life through setting up such institutions has brought us here to resolve the problems created by having such a crowded philanthropic marketplace. This is an unusual, but nevertheless troublesome, situation. And we are gathered here this morning, first, to ascertain just how bothersome this phenomenon is. In that respect, we will now hear formal opinions and testimony from all in the community who wish to speak their minds on this issue. Following the testimony, the Forest Council will deliberate together over lunch, and into the afternoon, if that becomes necessary, then we will re-assemble the community to hear the Council’s decision, which will be final. Are we all agreed on the manner of proceeding?” At this, all the animals smiled or nodded in agreement, because What’s ability to command respect and his penchant for justice and fairness among the community residents was, indeed, legendary.
The Forest Council, headed by the eagle, Governor What, formed in a circle in the center of the clearing so all the animals could gather around the Council and none would be left out. The Council was elected by a vote of all the animals, but most of the members tended to be representatives of smaller groups of animals who banded together to nominate someone like them. That way their point of view and special needs would be represented as input to the Council’s decisions.
There were seven council members in all. Seated beside Governor What was Lucille Seal in a new pink crocheted hat she had made just for the occasion. “Cille, as she was called, had been one of the first animals appointed to the Forest Council and had served with distinction for nearly 10 years. Next to her was Froggy DelaPond, who had on his traditional white vest. He harrumphed himself into place and was followed by the venerable Dr. Greyson Bear, who was thought to be among the wisest animals in all the forest – next to What , of course. On the other side of the circle was Freedie Fieldmouse representing many of the smaller animals of hill and dale. He had on his newest gray pinstripe suit and white shirt. Next to Freedie sat Roger Racoon, one of the newest members of the Council and a representative of the scavengers. He had been elected after the tragic death of Father Jeremy Badger the previous winter. Finally, there was Barry Bluejay representing all the birds of the forest.
When everyone was gathered and the Forest Council was in place, What gracefully glided into the clearing and settled firmly in his seat as a hush went over the assembled animals. “Today, we are gathered here to decide what to do about the proliferation of nonprofit organizations that have come into being in the last five years,” he said. “This is a subject for this Council not because charities are bad institutions, but because the swelling number of charitable groups has caused concern, embarrassment, discontent and consternation among many of our forest brothers and sisters.
“I, for one, am very glad to see that in the hearts of so many of our brothers and sisters there is a generous desire to be of help to our community, and so many creative ideas of how this can be done. It is a credit to all of you who are assembled here that we not only live in peace and harmony with one another, but that we have the inclination, the ideas and the ability to provide for each other in times of special needs or opportunities.”
He continued, “As you know, my heart is with the new nonprofits, hoping for their success, since I was the one who first got Helping Paw off to a good start.” And here he nodded to Fleur LeBruin, as a measure of recognition for her work. “I’m satisfied that we have gotten things off to a good start with Fleur’s excellent relief work among our animal neighbors.
“But the fact that so many of our community have not only seen the benefits of having nonprofits, but have availed themselves of the opportunity of a better life through setting up such institutions has brought us here to resolve the problems created by having such a crowded philanthropic marketplace. This is an unusual, but nevertheless troublesome, situation. And we are gathered here this morning, first, to ascertain just how bothersome this phenomenon is. In that respect, we will now hear formal opinions and testimony from all in the community who wish to speak their minds on this issue. Following the testimony, the Forest Council will deliberate together over lunch, and into the afternoon, if that becomes necessary, then we will re-assemble the community to hear the Council’s decision, which will be final. Are we all agreed on the manner of proceeding?” At this, all the animals smiled or nodded in agreement, because What’s ability to command respect and his penchant for justice and fairness among the community residents was, indeed, legendary.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.3 of 7)
Now, the problem wasn’t the numbers, so much as the fact that the leaders of every nonprofit were looking to the members of the forest community to support their helpful intentions. Everyone had seen how Fleur had benefited by being the executive director for Helping Paw, which got its support for her salary and all her programs for the animals from the contributions of all the community members. So now everyone wanted to get on the gravy train.
The community, however, was getting a little restive with this concept. Around the edges one could hear candid and sometimes even snide remarks to the effect that they were tired of shelling out acorns every month to one group after another. There were only just so many animals in the forest, and even if everyone gave their utmost to help everyone else, there just weren’t enough resources to make it possible for every animal who wanted a better life to start up a nonprofit and get what he or she wanted in that better life from the generosity of others.
Not that anyone would have begrudged anybody’s getting ahead in life. Throughout time all the animals had felt kindly towards one another and the idea of mutual assistance, banding together to accomplish more of a community feeling had grown in popularity. But the question remained, where were the resources going to come from to make everyone’s personal dreams of a better life come true?
The situation wasn’t yet dire, and there had been some noticeable advantages and improvements in the forest. First, the results of all the good that the various charities had done really did contribute to better lives for many of the forest animals. But, second, there had been a noticeable increase in certain kinds of benefits emanating from the fundraising efforts of the various nonprofits.
For example, the badgers, opossums, foxes, ferrets and field mice had never had so much fun! They had a Schmooseball tournament going on nearly every month – one of those fundraiser ideas someone had thought up to make fundraising more fun. The deer, elk, horses and moose were regularly involved in rutting contests that paid off handsomely in rewards for the winners and the executives of the charities that put those on. And the flying crowd got involved in swooping and divebombing contests that were really fun and provided everyone with a spectacle on Saturday afternoons.
Additionally, a local community foundation had been set up with assets from the sale of the forest to a preservation group so that all the animals could apply for funds to help them out, and these new charities had been very timely in their applications for those resources, which filtered down to individuals within the forest as their needs developed.
So everyone was, for the most part, better off. But where was the limit? How long could this state of affairs continue? The resources of the animals and of the forest foundation were limited. That was why Governor What had called the Forest Council meeting to discuss the situation and find a creative solution.
The community, however, was getting a little restive with this concept. Around the edges one could hear candid and sometimes even snide remarks to the effect that they were tired of shelling out acorns every month to one group after another. There were only just so many animals in the forest, and even if everyone gave their utmost to help everyone else, there just weren’t enough resources to make it possible for every animal who wanted a better life to start up a nonprofit and get what he or she wanted in that better life from the generosity of others.
Not that anyone would have begrudged anybody’s getting ahead in life. Throughout time all the animals had felt kindly towards one another and the idea of mutual assistance, banding together to accomplish more of a community feeling had grown in popularity. But the question remained, where were the resources going to come from to make everyone’s personal dreams of a better life come true?
The situation wasn’t yet dire, and there had been some noticeable advantages and improvements in the forest. First, the results of all the good that the various charities had done really did contribute to better lives for many of the forest animals. But, second, there had been a noticeable increase in certain kinds of benefits emanating from the fundraising efforts of the various nonprofits.
For example, the badgers, opossums, foxes, ferrets and field mice had never had so much fun! They had a Schmooseball tournament going on nearly every month – one of those fundraiser ideas someone had thought up to make fundraising more fun. The deer, elk, horses and moose were regularly involved in rutting contests that paid off handsomely in rewards for the winners and the executives of the charities that put those on. And the flying crowd got involved in swooping and divebombing contests that were really fun and provided everyone with a spectacle on Saturday afternoons.
Additionally, a local community foundation had been set up with assets from the sale of the forest to a preservation group so that all the animals could apply for funds to help them out, and these new charities had been very timely in their applications for those resources, which filtered down to individuals within the forest as their needs developed.
So everyone was, for the most part, better off. But where was the limit? How long could this state of affairs continue? The resources of the animals and of the forest foundation were limited. That was why Governor What had called the Forest Council meeting to discuss the situation and find a creative solution.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.2 of 7)
One of the most attractive things about this was that when What, the bald eagle who looked after all the forest animals and was their elected Governor, had first set up the Helping Paw charity, all the animals contributed what they could to help it start up, and then had made annual contributions to keep it going. In the meantime, What hired Fleur LeBruin to manage this little nonprofit, and two things had happened. First, Fleur started drawing a regular paycheck, and that had meant that she was sporting a new wardrobe and a new attitude of self-esteem that was very noticeable compared to her normally dour appearance and antagonistic effrontery. That change had been a relief for all, and had demonstrated how animal lives could be changed by regular income and something concrete to accomplish.
At the same time, Fleur had accomplished some remarkable objectives in helping the various forest animals with their problems. She provided counseling, helped fix them up after accidents and assisted them in locating new shelters and homes after storms. She had even set up a first-aid station where Preston Penguin was often very helpful in relieving the pains and headaches of the animals. So everyone was so much better off physically than before.
Apparently the lesson What had set out to teach had been well learned. Starting up a nonprofit for the benefit of the animal community brought the animals together with a welcome expression of mutual caring that strengthened community bonds. It had achieved a lot of good for many individual animals, and had produced some larger public goods like better health and animal well-being, along with a sense of unity and group capability that had never existed before. The result had been that all the forest animals were feeling pretty good about themselves and their animal community.
But, as sometimes happens with forest animals, the lesson had been learned too well. Within six months of What’s initial effort with Helping Paw, Gerry the camel had set up a nonprofit for relief of desert itch, just in case any of the other animals came down with that. Another couple months went by and Toby the platypus started a group called “Underground Underwater Well-Being” so all the moles, badgers, seals and similar folks could have special aid packages of their own. Then another group had been formed called “Four-Leggeds On the Run” to aid in the spiritual and physical development of some of the deer, horses, goats and unicorns. They now had regular weekly meetings that made them feel so much faster and more deeply in tune with the universe.
And that still was not the end of it. A mutual self-help agency was set up by Who, a distant owl cousin of Howie’s, that he called "We Help Our Neighbors." Then Big Red, the bear, and the only other resident besides Dr. Greyson Bear to have a college education, set up a research nonprofit called "Animal R & D." This group specialized in gathering information about forest animal life and published periodical papers on living conditions in the forest. Then there was the retirement benefits and aid society that had been set up by Mrs. Greyson Bear and Big Bird called "Why Work When the Weather’s Nice."
It wasn’t long before Gully the seagull, along with Loonie the loon and Leaky the Canadian goose had combined to start up "Animals in Flight," the mission of which was to help their feathered friends get more out of their flying abilities by using them to help transport the more earthbound species from one location to another. That brought immeasurable thrills and chills and allowed many residents to move around the forest more quickly. So that was seven new nonprofits within the span of five years in a forest where there had never been anything other than a local poker or bridge group organized before. The place was growing wild with nonprofits.
At the same time, Fleur had accomplished some remarkable objectives in helping the various forest animals with their problems. She provided counseling, helped fix them up after accidents and assisted them in locating new shelters and homes after storms. She had even set up a first-aid station where Preston Penguin was often very helpful in relieving the pains and headaches of the animals. So everyone was so much better off physically than before.
Apparently the lesson What had set out to teach had been well learned. Starting up a nonprofit for the benefit of the animal community brought the animals together with a welcome expression of mutual caring that strengthened community bonds. It had achieved a lot of good for many individual animals, and had produced some larger public goods like better health and animal well-being, along with a sense of unity and group capability that had never existed before. The result had been that all the forest animals were feeling pretty good about themselves and their animal community.
But, as sometimes happens with forest animals, the lesson had been learned too well. Within six months of What’s initial effort with Helping Paw, Gerry the camel had set up a nonprofit for relief of desert itch, just in case any of the other animals came down with that. Another couple months went by and Toby the platypus started a group called “Underground Underwater Well-Being” so all the moles, badgers, seals and similar folks could have special aid packages of their own. Then another group had been formed called “Four-Leggeds On the Run” to aid in the spiritual and physical development of some of the deer, horses, goats and unicorns. They now had regular weekly meetings that made them feel so much faster and more deeply in tune with the universe.
And that still was not the end of it. A mutual self-help agency was set up by Who, a distant owl cousin of Howie’s, that he called "We Help Our Neighbors." Then Big Red, the bear, and the only other resident besides Dr. Greyson Bear to have a college education, set up a research nonprofit called "Animal R & D." This group specialized in gathering information about forest animal life and published periodical papers on living conditions in the forest. Then there was the retirement benefits and aid society that had been set up by Mrs. Greyson Bear and Big Bird called "Why Work When the Weather’s Nice."
It wasn’t long before Gully the seagull, along with Loonie the loon and Leaky the Canadian goose had combined to start up "Animals in Flight," the mission of which was to help their feathered friends get more out of their flying abilities by using them to help transport the more earthbound species from one location to another. That brought immeasurable thrills and chills and allowed many residents to move around the forest more quickly. So that was seven new nonprofits within the span of five years in a forest where there had never been anything other than a local poker or bridge group organized before. The place was growing wild with nonprofits.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Making Dilemmonade out of a Dilemma (Pt.1 of 7)
Deep in the forest it was a cold autumn day with the sun peeking through ice-crystal clouds, as What and When were serving pasties in their Forest Café The two groundhogs served up lots of tender loving care, and the pasties were a fall favorite of most forest animals. It certainly looked like most of the neighborhood residents were taking advantage of the warmth and camaraderie of the little café that afternoon.
Just as Beave let go with a loud Chinese cheer in his napkin and Homer the Lovarabbit reached for a third pastie, Howey the horned owl burst in the front door with a gust of wind and a flurry of golden leaves. Breathless, he said to the whole café, as heads began to come up from their eating bowls, “Hey, guys, guess what?! Number eight just hatched! And guess who the new co-executive directors are. That’s right, you guessed it: Atlas and Arilla Gorilla have just initiated the A2 Animal Relief and Rescue Team, and that makes the eighth nonprofit to be started here in the forest this year.! When is it going to end?!”
“Simmer down, old boy,” said When, as he put a steaming cup of birch tea in front of the wild-looking owl. ”Where’d you hear that news? And anyway, it’s been five years not one year.”
“Well, what I heard was that Governor What has called an animal council in the Hollow for tomorrow at daybreak to discuss the whole situation. And when I asked what the situation was, What’s secretary, Easter, told me that Arilla and Atlas had just received their certification from the Forest Administration to set up another charity. Isn’t that wild? Two gorillas, now, on top of everything else we’ve got going, trying to set up another animal charity. It’s too much!” And he huffed and chuffed into his tea mug shaking his head so that the loose feathers flew in all directions and his eyebrows swayed back and forth in the breeze he created.
As When joined Where at Howie’s table, she said, “Well, we all benefit from these charities. I know I have and, Howie, I believe you have received quite a bit of assistance now and again from one or another of our little nonprofits. What’s the beef here? Too many? I mean, can there really be too many groups who help others? Isn’t that what animal life is all about – helping others?”
Over in the corner, Dr. Greyson Bear, sitting with his son and newly minted forest Doctor Greyson Bear, Jr., shrugged in disapproval. “Just what we need around here, another animal charity. Who do they think they’re going to take care of? Where do they think they’re going to get enough funding to keep them going? It just doesn’t make sense.”
What the aging physician and long-time resident of the forest was referring to was the seeming glut of nonprofits that had been initiated in the past several years. It had all started with what the good doctor still thought was an absolutely brilliant idea: that the forest animals all get together to start an animal helping nonprofit that would give aid and support to any forest animal who needed it. That had been Governor What’s idea about five years before, and it had been very successful. But it had started a trend.
Just as Beave let go with a loud Chinese cheer in his napkin and Homer the Lovarabbit reached for a third pastie, Howey the horned owl burst in the front door with a gust of wind and a flurry of golden leaves. Breathless, he said to the whole café, as heads began to come up from their eating bowls, “Hey, guys, guess what?! Number eight just hatched! And guess who the new co-executive directors are. That’s right, you guessed it: Atlas and Arilla Gorilla have just initiated the A2 Animal Relief and Rescue Team, and that makes the eighth nonprofit to be started here in the forest this year.! When is it going to end?!”
“Simmer down, old boy,” said When, as he put a steaming cup of birch tea in front of the wild-looking owl. ”Where’d you hear that news? And anyway, it’s been five years not one year.”
“Well, what I heard was that Governor What has called an animal council in the Hollow for tomorrow at daybreak to discuss the whole situation. And when I asked what the situation was, What’s secretary, Easter, told me that Arilla and Atlas had just received their certification from the Forest Administration to set up another charity. Isn’t that wild? Two gorillas, now, on top of everything else we’ve got going, trying to set up another animal charity. It’s too much!” And he huffed and chuffed into his tea mug shaking his head so that the loose feathers flew in all directions and his eyebrows swayed back and forth in the breeze he created.
As When joined Where at Howie’s table, she said, “Well, we all benefit from these charities. I know I have and, Howie, I believe you have received quite a bit of assistance now and again from one or another of our little nonprofits. What’s the beef here? Too many? I mean, can there really be too many groups who help others? Isn’t that what animal life is all about – helping others?”
Over in the corner, Dr. Greyson Bear, sitting with his son and newly minted forest Doctor Greyson Bear, Jr., shrugged in disapproval. “Just what we need around here, another animal charity. Who do they think they’re going to take care of? Where do they think they’re going to get enough funding to keep them going? It just doesn’t make sense.”
What the aging physician and long-time resident of the forest was referring to was the seeming glut of nonprofits that had been initiated in the past several years. It had all started with what the good doctor still thought was an absolutely brilliant idea: that the forest animals all get together to start an animal helping nonprofit that would give aid and support to any forest animal who needed it. That had been Governor What’s idea about five years before, and it had been very successful. But it had started a trend.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Reluctant Finance Officer (cont'd)
“Well, OK, but let me ask you a question now. What makes you think that just automatically we can project any kind of revenue forward? What am I supposed to do, be the magician around here and make the dollars magically appear? There’s too much uncertainty.”
“Ok, Terry, let me spell it out for you and be crystal clear. Here’s your last year’s financial final and your budget for this year. There are certain things in this budget, on the expense side, that are going to remain fairly stable for the foreseeable future, right? We’ve got our essential operating and administrative basics, right? Rent, utilities, those kinds of things. If we stay here in this building, there’s not going to be much change, right? OK, so project that section out with the cost of inflation considered.” She was wondering why it was so necessary to go into this much detail with a guy who had been a financial wizard at Gimmicks and Gismos Corporation for fifteen years before coming to the nonprofit sector. She was really getting irritated that she had to practically do his job for him and then stick his nose in it.
“Then take programs,” she continued, trying to soften the edge of her voice a bit. “What do we have to do by way of new projects, programs and added staff to make our goal of 40% market share over there? If you work with me on this I can probably tell you some pretty accurate numbers after I get with Sally and Herb in the program department. Or you could take that step yourself. Why do I need to get involved?” Immediately the words were out of her mouth she knew she shouldn’t have said that, but she went on, hoping that her morning coffee wasn’t going to let her betray her total irritation too badly.
“Then take fundraising. Our cost to raise $1 has been about 25 cents over the past five years as we’ve raised about $1 million each year. If we continue that, and we’re raising ten times as much money, what’s the projection for the total costs of fundraising? As we raise more money we should be getting more efficient, so we should probably project something more like 15 cents on the dollar and see what happens. How much more staff, how much more time, effort and dollars will it take to raise $10 million. If you talk with Jared, he’ll likely be able to tell you. Come on, Terry, I know you can do this. Will you work with me on this?”
“But what about the state portion of the revenue side? We don’t’ know from year to year how much they’ll give us.” It was one last hold out, he’d try it and see if it worked. He didn’t like the direction this was going. It was too risky, it didn’t have any solidity at all. He would be flying by the seat of his pants. What if someone looked back on his projections later and saw that he was wrong, that what he had projected really didn’t turn out to be true, they could hold him up to ridicule, and some on the Board were all too ready to do that anyway.
Terry knew that things changed so much within each year that every annual budget had to be adjusted, then re-adjusted all during the year. And at the end sometimes one would not recognize the budget they’d started with. The one thing he would give Mary is that she had the ability to roll with the punches and had brought every year out ahead of budget so far. Maybe she was right, but it was a scary place to be from a finance officer’s point of view.
But Mary persisted. “The state is the state. Nothing we can do there. Get a trend line and project it out as it is. They’ve declined about 5-8% over the past two years. If you don’t think they’re going to actually fix the problem, all we can reasonably do is project that trend to continue. If that does continue, what will the state’s share of our revenue picture look like? It’s simple, really, Terry.” She was ready to make one last try.
“Tell me, Terry,” she said, with more equanimity that she felt. “What’s the problem here. You seem to be determined to resist this, and I need you to know that I see projected budgets as essential to our meeting the strategic targets set by the Board, and I’m determined to see that we get there, and I believe this organization can do what they’re asking. So, tell me, what’s with it with you? What are you afraid of?”
“Very simple,” said Terry, taken briefly off guard by her suddenly conciliatory tone of voice. “If I project income or expenses at a certain level, then, quite frankly, I expose myself to criticism if whatever I project out there doesn’t actually happen. There are people on the staff and people on the Board who are all too ready to use my own tentative figures against me to try to make it seem like I’m the bad guy. I’m not going to put myself in that kind of position. You want projections? I suggest that you take the responsibility for those figures and leave me out of it. I’m content to work on what’s really coming in the door and going out on a day-to-day and week-to-week basis. I can tell you where it’s at now, and where it went. But don’t ask me to project what’s going to happen in the future around here. It’s too volatile, too uncertain. And the Board has a tendency to forget that when they’re looking for someone to blame it on.”
There, he’d said it, at last! That sharp tang of the tannin came back to him as he realized it couldn’t really be a good day until he’d sacrificed to the gods, and that now he’d done that by ripping open his inner thoughts for his CEO to see, maybe he could get on with the day.
Mary was relieved, too. The solution was simple. “OK, she said. Let’s do it this way. You make the budget projections as if you were me – whatever you think I’d do. Then give the file to me and I’ll take a crack at it. Then we’ll get back together and you can give me your opinion of what I’ve done to your figures. We can discuss the issues together. But ultimately, I’ll say to the Board that this is my projection and I’ll take full responsibility for it. Does that suit you?”
Terry nodded his ascent. “I’ll have it for you tomorrow morning.” And at that moment Stella came in to remind Mary that her next appointment was waiting already 10 minutes and she was late.
“Thanks, Terry,” she said. “I’ll look forward to your projections tomorrow,” and she left the room as airly as she had come in.
“Ok, Terry, let me spell it out for you and be crystal clear. Here’s your last year’s financial final and your budget for this year. There are certain things in this budget, on the expense side, that are going to remain fairly stable for the foreseeable future, right? We’ve got our essential operating and administrative basics, right? Rent, utilities, those kinds of things. If we stay here in this building, there’s not going to be much change, right? OK, so project that section out with the cost of inflation considered.” She was wondering why it was so necessary to go into this much detail with a guy who had been a financial wizard at Gimmicks and Gismos Corporation for fifteen years before coming to the nonprofit sector. She was really getting irritated that she had to practically do his job for him and then stick his nose in it.
“Then take programs,” she continued, trying to soften the edge of her voice a bit. “What do we have to do by way of new projects, programs and added staff to make our goal of 40% market share over there? If you work with me on this I can probably tell you some pretty accurate numbers after I get with Sally and Herb in the program department. Or you could take that step yourself. Why do I need to get involved?” Immediately the words were out of her mouth she knew she shouldn’t have said that, but she went on, hoping that her morning coffee wasn’t going to let her betray her total irritation too badly.
“Then take fundraising. Our cost to raise $1 has been about 25 cents over the past five years as we’ve raised about $1 million each year. If we continue that, and we’re raising ten times as much money, what’s the projection for the total costs of fundraising? As we raise more money we should be getting more efficient, so we should probably project something more like 15 cents on the dollar and see what happens. How much more staff, how much more time, effort and dollars will it take to raise $10 million. If you talk with Jared, he’ll likely be able to tell you. Come on, Terry, I know you can do this. Will you work with me on this?”
“But what about the state portion of the revenue side? We don’t’ know from year to year how much they’ll give us.” It was one last hold out, he’d try it and see if it worked. He didn’t like the direction this was going. It was too risky, it didn’t have any solidity at all. He would be flying by the seat of his pants. What if someone looked back on his projections later and saw that he was wrong, that what he had projected really didn’t turn out to be true, they could hold him up to ridicule, and some on the Board were all too ready to do that anyway.
Terry knew that things changed so much within each year that every annual budget had to be adjusted, then re-adjusted all during the year. And at the end sometimes one would not recognize the budget they’d started with. The one thing he would give Mary is that she had the ability to roll with the punches and had brought every year out ahead of budget so far. Maybe she was right, but it was a scary place to be from a finance officer’s point of view.
But Mary persisted. “The state is the state. Nothing we can do there. Get a trend line and project it out as it is. They’ve declined about 5-8% over the past two years. If you don’t think they’re going to actually fix the problem, all we can reasonably do is project that trend to continue. If that does continue, what will the state’s share of our revenue picture look like? It’s simple, really, Terry.” She was ready to make one last try.
“Tell me, Terry,” she said, with more equanimity that she felt. “What’s the problem here. You seem to be determined to resist this, and I need you to know that I see projected budgets as essential to our meeting the strategic targets set by the Board, and I’m determined to see that we get there, and I believe this organization can do what they’re asking. So, tell me, what’s with it with you? What are you afraid of?”
“Very simple,” said Terry, taken briefly off guard by her suddenly conciliatory tone of voice. “If I project income or expenses at a certain level, then, quite frankly, I expose myself to criticism if whatever I project out there doesn’t actually happen. There are people on the staff and people on the Board who are all too ready to use my own tentative figures against me to try to make it seem like I’m the bad guy. I’m not going to put myself in that kind of position. You want projections? I suggest that you take the responsibility for those figures and leave me out of it. I’m content to work on what’s really coming in the door and going out on a day-to-day and week-to-week basis. I can tell you where it’s at now, and where it went. But don’t ask me to project what’s going to happen in the future around here. It’s too volatile, too uncertain. And the Board has a tendency to forget that when they’re looking for someone to blame it on.”
There, he’d said it, at last! That sharp tang of the tannin came back to him as he realized it couldn’t really be a good day until he’d sacrificed to the gods, and that now he’d done that by ripping open his inner thoughts for his CEO to see, maybe he could get on with the day.
Mary was relieved, too. The solution was simple. “OK, she said. Let’s do it this way. You make the budget projections as if you were me – whatever you think I’d do. Then give the file to me and I’ll take a crack at it. Then we’ll get back together and you can give me your opinion of what I’ve done to your figures. We can discuss the issues together. But ultimately, I’ll say to the Board that this is my projection and I’ll take full responsibility for it. Does that suit you?”
Terry nodded his ascent. “I’ll have it for you tomorrow morning.” And at that moment Stella came in to remind Mary that her next appointment was waiting already 10 minutes and she was late.
“Thanks, Terry,” she said. “I’ll look forward to your projections tomorrow,” and she left the room as airly as she had come in.
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