Spare a thought for charity collectors

Anne-Marie Flynn

AFTER a solid week of sogginess in north Mayo, the last few days have finally made for decent running weather. It was after one such outing recently that, while collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap as is customary following such an excursion, (when does this running lark start getting easier?) I heard the doorbell. Years of city living have taught me that unexpected house calls only lead to no good (even when you genuinely have no TV) so naturally, I ignored it. The ring was persistent, though, so in the end my conscience dragged me downstairs.

Fumbling for a key, I was met with a fresh-faced young gentleman with voluminous hair, an ominous-looking clipboard and a prominently placed charity ‘Direct Debit Mandate’ form. My face might have fallen a little, but his took on an unexpectedly shocked countenance.

 “Jesus!” he exclaimed.

“No,” I said. “He doesn’t live here. Try next door.”

 “You look wrecked!” says he.

“Pardon me?”

“You actually look shattered!”

I was a bit nonplussed at this unconventional opening gambit. It’s not the typical flattery that might charm you into giving a complete stranger your bank details on the doorstep. Your man quickly realised his error. I didn’t have to make much in the line of flimsy excuses before he and his clipboard retreated sheepishly, amidst advice to perhaps try a different tack next door.

“At least you answered the door,” he said sadly. “And didn’t slam it in my face.”

“Well,” I assured him. “I’ll try harder next time.”

Proof, if ever it was needed, that exercise does nothing for you.

The exchange got me thinking, though.

Essential for forward planning

In Dublin, I worked for a while with a large children’s charity. It received some public funding, but the modus operandi was very much in line with what I knew in the private sector; a strong focus on efficiency, minimising waste, protecting and growing revenue, building relationships. Above all, staff worked hard and passionately for their cause.  Costs were minimised; every cent was accounted for. This has consistently been my experience within the charity sector.

A common public complaint, however, is that charities spend too much, both on administration and on paying staff. Both arguments perplex me, because we – rightly – demand high standards from charities; yet many appear to think that staff employed to implement them don’t deserve a fair income relevant to their role. Cutbacks mean that charities are now delivering more services that should be provided by the state - mental health services, childcare, homelessness services – and demand doesn’t decrease, even when their funding does. Fundraising is therefore an unavoidable administration cost, whether we like it or not.

There are two types of fundraiser commonly regarded as public nuisances. Overenthusiastic on-street ‘chuggers’ who walk alongside you, pretending to be your friend, and door-to-door staff like your man, who disturb people in their homes. It’s irritating, mostly. Both are trying to recruit people to donate regularly via direct debit. But it’s essential. Why? Because like any business, in order to provide services efficiently, charities need to plan ahead. To plan, they need to know how much money is coming in. Therefore, direct debits contributions are a valuable guaranteed income stream. Even taking fundraisers’ wages into account, it’s one of the most cost-efficient fundraising methods. So people like my recent caller go out to work every evening, getting doors slammed in their faces, not without the odd bit of abuse thrown at them for good measure. It’s a job, but it’s a tough one.

People don’t like signing up for long-term charity contributions, because – understandably - we like to be able to choose to donate to once-off events as they touch or affect us. Or we like to be able to support local events as they happen. There’s a greater emotional pay-off for us in that, too, than there is in giving our bank details to a stranger on the doorstep. But maybe it’s worth reconsidering.

As for my caller, in the end, I almost found his genuineness endearing. Give me that over an insincere sales spiel any day.

I logged on and signed myself up for a few quid. And resolved to never again answer the door after a run!