Contribution

Pay In Route

In my youth, the airline shuttle between Washington DC-NYC-Boston would load passengers right up to the moment of departure, usually on the hour. The moment the aircraft door closed, taxi and take-off followed immediately. Flight attendants rolled carts through the aisle and secured payment for the flight, ran credit cards on an imprinter machine, and provided carbon copy receipts. The duration of the flight was short, and the crew hustled to complete all the transactions during a full flight. The plane landed, and everyone disembarked and headed toward their destination. This model has evaporated in favor of pre-payments and cancellation penalties.

Much of our travel is based on upfront payments. Airlines get paid up to 330 days or more in advance for future tickets. There is a psychological aspect to paying beforehand; it represents a form of investment in a future event. When we match this experience with the social sector and donor contributions, most are positioned as investing in the organization’s future. Few campaigns lead with, ‘Help us pay the pile of invoices on our desk.’ It is more hopeful to supply resources for a future endeavor than assisting with debt collection (although the pandemic created a temporary exception).

How might we find our niche when asking for fuel to support our journey? Do our supporters prefer helping us move forward, or do they understand the costs incurred to arrive at our current location?

Hoarding or Preparing?

What is the inflection point between hoarding and securing additional resources? In the social sector, this tension plays out when an organization with a significant endowment requests funding for distinct initiatives. For example, a summer camp requiring deferred maintenance of its facilities may be questioned about the criteria for deploying the endowment for the upkeep and maintenance of the facility versus seeking new contributions.

How might we be prepared to communicate with our supporters when we are building up caches to provide fuel for our journey and when we are stocking a storage room for a pandemic we hope never occurs? Knowing how we intend to deploy resources may differentiate a donor’s perception between contribution and aggressive panhandling.

Amaze vs. Contribute

Some things amaze me. I might be impressed by scrolling social media, navigating a city, or walking in nature. Not all of these moments of wonder add value to my journey. Some are worth a glance, but few are worth double-clicking on to explore further. How might we assess if our primary motivation is to amaze our audience or contribute to their odyssey? Are we curating moments for Klout or customizing a benefit that serves those who follow?

Following Up

I donated to several ‘a-thons’ this year at the request of family and friends. The pitch is typically a template, and the ask is simple. Please help me reach my fundraising goal as I complete the following event. Typically, the event is a significant undertaking and requires time and resources. After contributing, an automatic email acknowledging my gift is generated.

What leaves me feeling incomplete is that no participant followed up after completing their event with a summation, update, photo, emoji, or letter. The event finished, and the impact of their efforts left the donor to assume all was as expected?
If you ask individuals to fuel your journey, consider how to report back on its impact. How might we follow up to say, ‘I made it, and I remember how you showed up for me when the outcome was in doubt.