Not long after arriving at a conference, I spotted a former colleague. As I made my way over to say hello, I noticed by his nametag that he still worked in the same development field, annual giving, albeit at a different institution. We sat down to chat.
I remembered him as a talented fund raiser, skilled at building and maintaining relationships and a thoughtful ambassador for his university. He struck me as an ambitious sort with a solid feel for how the fund-raising game is played. I always thought he'd make a good vice president for development.
"You still toiling in the annual fund?" I asked. "Isn't that getting a bit old?"
"On the contrary," he replied. "The longer I stay with annual giving, the more I like it."
"You mean you want to stay on that track," I responded incredulously, "and not pursue a vice presidency?"
"That's right," he assured me. "I'm happy here."
His attitude surprised me, though I admitted a measure of admiration. He felt satisfied with his station and not the least consumed with climbing the "success" ladder. What a refreshingly stark contrast to the conventional career zeal I had come to expect from most colleagues and friends.
Of those colleagues who are obsessed with reaching for a higher rung, few seem to find satisfaction in either the hunt or their job. Some don't stick around long enough to mature into a position, instead bolting for the next available job -- usually at another college -- provided it advances their career prospects.
The obsession to move up can result from pressure from our families, from peers, from supervisors, from our bank accounts, or from within. If, for instance, a fund raiser does stay at one institution for a time and achieves success, that individual might eventually be tapped to assume greater responsibilities. As positions at the college become vacant, she might be expected to move up. But what if she doesn't take advantage of the opportunity? What will her colleagues and bosses think of her? We can quickly become wrung out by various forces prodding us up the ladder.
Throughout the day, as I meandered from one conference presentation to the next, I couldn't help but wonder how dedicated these hundreds of people were to their jobs and their institutions. I couldn't help but wonder if they considered every fund-raising position a stepping stone to a vice presidency or at least a development directorship. I couldn't help but wonder if these professionals would consider simply specializing in one aspect of development -- say, the annual fund or corporate and foundation relations -- and not surrender to an inexorable urge to move out and move ever upward.
Should every fund raiser, in other words, assume a steady march to the top rung? Or is it acceptable to find a comfortable spot along the way and make a career of it?
I think it's perfectly acceptable to stay put, and my friend would concur. His particular silo is the annual fund, and he's become an expert in that field. People drawn to that aspect of fund raising might like managing a volume-driven pursuit, crunching numbers, and devising strategies to keep individuals giving consistently, if not in large amounts. They might not like face-to-face interaction with donors, which occurs infrequently in the annual-fund office. Such a person, like my friend, can reach a career pinnacle as an annual-fund director at one or more institutions.
Likewise, some fund raisers excel at cultivating relationships but lack the skills for managing people. They find their talents best suited to securing major gifts, where they can freely pursue prospects and donors, unfettered by the yoke of supervising people and monitoring budgets. Should they possess management skills and wish to lead the major-gifts office, their responsibilities would still pale in comparison with what's expected of a director or vice president of development. That role assumes oversight and integration of all fund-raising functions as well as authority over prospect research, database and information systems, development communications, donor relations and stewardship, strategic planning and goal setting, and volunteer recruitment and management. A good major-gifts officer might be happier simply managing major gifts.
Corporate- and foundation-relations work often attracts professionals with a slightly different skill set. People interested in academic research and grant writing and working with faculty members and financing agencies find a natural home there. They can be slightly more introverted than their colleagues in major gifts and prefer a limited amount of face-to-face fund raising. What's more, they might be at ease asking institutions for money but find soliciting individuals distasteful or endlessly complex. Moving into a development director's role -- which assumes active cultivation of individuals -- could certainly drag them out of their comfort zone. Here again, such professionals might aspire to lead only their function and not the entire development office.
Still other circumstances might dictate a fund raiser's desire to remain in one niche of the development field. Assuming the additional responsibilities for all of development requires a considerable investment of time. Those with young families, a lengthy commute, civic activities, or other personal priorities may wish to avoid a longer work day.
If any of this resonates with you, if you feel wrung out by the pressures -- from wherever they might come -- to climb that proverbial ladder, then take solace in knowing that you're not alone and that you need not succumb to those pressures. If you'd rather build a career by excelling in your particular fund-raising specialty, I say bravo.
At the same time, if you're worried about becoming burned out and bored, you need to find remedies to prevent that. Continue learning, but satisfy your intellectual curiosity outside the job. Take courses on your campus or at a nearby institution. If you're qualified, teach. Try writing a book or perhaps an article for one of our trade publications. And once you've become an authority in your field, you might consider establishing a consulting practice to complement your campus career and supplement your income. In short, don't assume that personal advancement requires professional advancement. Expanding your horizons beyond the workplace can keep you from becoming stale.
For some, of course, moving out and moving up might make sense. If you're already a director, then taking a position at a larger institution with a bigger staff and budget can pose new challenges. If you're not yet a director in your specialty, you can begin to think about finding an occasion to take on managerial responsibilities elsewhere.
Finally, to those who find pursuing development leadership a happy obsession, I say more power to you. Just be sure you know what you're getting into. Don't be lured by the siren song of a 20-percent pay increase if you're not willing to shoulder the 80-percent increase in responsibilities. But to those fund raisers with three years as an assistant director under their belt and visions of upper management dancing in their heads (I've known a few), I say take baby steps. Settle in, learn your specialty and prove yourself as an area manager before deciding whether that ultimate rung is naturally within reach. Remember that no one should think of you as a failure if you never achieve that goal.
Before the conference ended I managed to catch up with my friend once more. I'd done a good bit of thinking thanks to his revelation, and I told him so. Sometimes you can learn a great deal at those conferences without even trying.
