You really can't blame the charity for latching like a leech onto anyone who actually chucks moolah over their needy transoms. In a perfect world the charities would budget their bugging you efforts to those times when you are actually flush with cash and feeling frisky. (In much the way the new internet connected refrigerators will order milk from Peapod for you.) Of course, in a perfect world there wouldn't be any need for an authentic cause to go begging in the first place.
Speaking of Peapod, it appears none other than Google has decided to get into their business. Who knew that the old milkman's business model would prove to be so cutting edge here in the push button future of the 21st century? When last I checked, Peapod and Webvan and the rest weren't exactly making a mint hiking food to the doors of the lazy. After all, the market for the truly indifferent shopper is only so big. It turns out, however, that Google isn't so interested in Peapod's mark-up as they are in its customer contact. Google figures that even if they essentially give the food away to you at cost, it's worth it for the opportunity of putting you in close personal contact with one of their sales agents/delivery boys. The hope is that these sales agents will have the opportunity to pounce on you for an upsell.
I kid you not. I am not making this up. Google is actually running this program in the Pac Northwest. I'm not sure how it goes or if it's even working out as planned. I can envision our Google guy dropping off your organic produce box and then lingering to see if you are home. While he's carrying in your things, he just casually mentions that he has a name brand home entertainment system in his truck that he's willing to let go of for near wholesale. Or that he can get you a deal on furniture with liberal finance terms and no credit check. Or maybe he just hikes up his sleeve and shows you an arm full of watches?
The concept is called upsell. Although turning the delivery man into a hawker is a bit dubious of a spin, the theory behind it is typical. Or should I say trite. It's sort of bait and switch without the switch.
You see it at some retailers. You walked in fully intending to buy a clock radio, a 20 dollar item. While you are checking out, your cashier casually runs down a list of talking points, starting with how much you would save today if you opened a charge account, then going to a deal on magazines (always Entertainment This Week) followed by an extra warranty offer. All of these things are massive high mark up items for the store, although technically they don't cost that much. The way they look at it, they got you on one thing, they might as well shoot for two.
Charities also pull this. Maybe it is a way of adding variety to their appeals. Mostly, it's just something beyond what the average giver may have in mind. Remember when I told you about the shrine you could build? I wasn't kidding.
By the way, I have given these people money in the past and fully support their mission as much as I can. That said, I'm not sure this is the best use of $15-20K that I can think of. I'm sure it's marked up a bit. It's sort of a vanity play, much like having a wing of a hospital named for you or a little plaque with your name on it listing you as a donor to the museum.
I don't think there's really anything wrong with this. Asking for the greatest amount of money that you can is no crime for a charity. If anything, just offering a trophy type thing might help you identify those few high rollers amongst the thousands of folks you've blown outreach funds making mailings to. Sure, there's something deep and dark about offering to build a marked up monument to someone's ego, but it ain't the worst crime out there. It's not like they're promising to cure your cancer first. This is nowhere near as bothersome as the other two tactics that I have encountered lately.
One tiresome tactic that I have been on the receiving end of as of late is the charity sending me a gift. Unusable sized blankets is the rage currently, followed in close order by reusable grocery bags. These usually come with a little note thanking you for previous donation or just saying they were thinking of you or in some way introducing you to their cause. That's fine. And it's usually a pretty soft sell Then comes a follow up note asking you how you liked your gift. Noted somewhere in the text is how tight their outreach funds are and how they were taking a chance on your in kind generosity. That's guilt-tripping. That gets you off my hit parade pretty quickly.*
There is, of course, the shotgun guilt trip, which is so poorly and cheaply done that you can't take it serious. In this version our charity has sent you something pathetically cheap, such as a suitable for framing certificate of appreciation or membership. Or a magnet/sticker. Give us money and you won't feel guilty for putting this on your car. My warning here is that almost all of the organizations who do the shotgun guilt trip, especially those involving soldiers or the police, are flat out fakes. Check them out before you give them money. If you don't, you're giving your money to crooks and that's worse than not giving at all.
If I had the heart, I would simply recommend that you not give to guilt trippers in general. But I don't. Most of these people are well meaning. They're just doing things they have been told has worked. Maybe if enough of us drop them a note with our donations the tide will turn?
The other tiresome tactic is an immediate red flag with me. This is the emergency appeal. You have already established a pattern of occasionally giving to this charity. They send robo penned thank you letters. They have their little upsell moments and prayer request cards or whathaveyou, but they otherwise haven't been too obnoxious. Suddenly, out of the blue, they need a lot of money--and fast. The actual cause itself is in danger of failing. All of the money you have contributed thus far will be for nothing.
Change the verbs and nouns, but it reads as follow:
I took my car in to have the right front window fixed. The window is stuck down and will not roll up. I got a few estimates on a repair and took it to the cheapest shop. While doing the repair, the window broke so they had to open up the door to replace the mechanism. It turns out my door had entirely rusted out and fell apart. Now I need a new door and can't drive the car until I get one. I only had money to fix the window. So I am asking for your help.
Not all of these appeals are flat out lies, but most of them are. Or blatant exaggerations. This is a tactic favored by the old cult leader Herbert W. Armstrong. To hear Armstrong tell it, his millions of dollars a year operation was threatened with extinction on a quarterly basis--all from events that he could not foresee.**
Unless something in your heart absolutely cries otherwise, you should discontinue your giving to any charity plying this tactic. At worst, it's a play on the guilt trip. It's notching guilt up to a withdrawal of the love object. At best, it's a sign that the work is very poorly managed. I know it's cold of me to say this, but either way it should be bye-bye for you.
*I have not at all taken my own advice here. That's because I am stupidly attached to my little causes and selected agents of change.
** It was a double whammy for Armstrong, whose claim to fame was that he could predict the future.
Coda:
I may be a little erratic and off topic for the next few days. And without my visuals. Circumstances are such that I am again called to venture away from my humble abode. Which means I have to use my travel crappy computer.
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