The Fund Raiser

Phone-a-thon Follies

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By Mark J. Drozdowski

Two or three times a year, the phone rings and "Univ Penn" appears on my caller ID. That would be my alma mater calling for money. As a fund raiser, I enjoy hearing how my university tries to coerce me into making a gift. Penn raises hundreds of millions each year and wages billion-dollar campaigns, so I guess the fund raisers know what they're doing. I figure I can learn something.

Here's how our last exchange unfolded:

Ring-ring. "Hello."

"Hi, this is [student's name], and I'm a [sophomore, junior] calling from the University of Pennsylvania. How are you tonight?"

"Just ducky."

"Swell. I notice you've supported the Penn Fund in the past, and we hope you'll make a gift again this year."

"Uh-huh."

"I see you graduated the year Penn celebrated its 250th anniversary. In honor of that, would you consider making a gift of $250?"

"Um, no."

"Well then, you were in the class of '90, so will you contribute $90?"

"Way too much."

"You do want to make a gift, right?"

"Tell you what. My shoe size is 12 and a half, and I happen to have two feet. So put me down for 25 bucks."

"Outstanding."

As you can surmise, I'm not always sympathetic to the kids who call. If one happens to catch me in a sour mood or interrupts a four-star dinner, I can become rather surly. Or obnoxious. I'll ask about last year's endowment-return figures or inquire about the percentage of unrestricted funds spent annually on oil bills. Or I'll promise to contribute once I finish paying off my student loans. That'll provide a convenient excuse until retirement, anyway. I suppose I should be more accommodating and appreciate this base form of fund raising as a necessary evil. Every place does it.

That includes my own employer. So when my college recently launched our spring phone-a-thon, I embraced the challenge of manning a phone -- just to experience it for myself and perhaps gain some new perspective. My colleague who runs the show managed to corral about a dozen students willing to suspend their egos and make $8 an hour. He drafted scripts, pulled lists of alumni, and printed piles of pledge forms.

I grabbed my own pile, which included alumni who gave last year but not this year (Lybunts), those who gave some year in the past but not this year (Sybunts), and those who've never given (Deadbeats). All told, I had about a hundred calls to make.

First I noticed that it's difficult to contact people. We began calling around 5:30 p.m., when many folks weren't yet home. Some, I figured, were home but let voice mail intercede once they saw the college's name on caller ID. Others had "call block," which requires the caller to enter a code before the call can go through. I guess people will do anything to stonewall phone spam. About half of the calls ended before I heard a live voice.

When I did get through to someone, I discovered (not surprisingly) that people who have given before are far less likely to curse and summarily dismiss you. Deadbeats, eager to cement their reputations, can be rude, ornery, and downright malevolent. One guy told me to attempt a maneuver I assume is anatomically impossible. Another let me reach the part of the script where I say "asking alumni for gifts" before huffing "Oh, come on!" and hanging up. Yet another just laughed and walked away. Presumably, someone else hung up his phone.

A few folks had legitimate excuses. They were "strapped" for various reasons: kids in college, medical bills, living on a fixed retirement income, spending too much on scratch tickets. At least they were polite.

Most of the alumni who had given before pledged again. Our scripts said to ask them for larger gifts, and some obliged. The majority, though, matched what they gave last time.

I also found that alumni living far away were more eager to chat. About 80 percent of our graduates live in New England; it's relatively rare to find alumni in strange places like Kansas or Utah. But I did. I asked a woman living in Salt Lake City if she routinely runs into fellow alumni at the supermarket. Get them to laugh and they're far more likely to open the checkbook. And for some peculiar reason our college doesn't appear often in The Topeka Capital-Journal, so another graduate wanted to catch up on what's been going on here since 1971.

Unfortunately, I still don't know everyone at the college, and I certainly can't speak to being a student here. That's why our student callers are better at this than I am. Alumni like talking to them, hearing their enthusiasm for the college, remembering how they were at that age, asking about professors who are still here or dorms they lived in. Grads want to know what the students are majoring in or what led them to enroll. They don't really want to talk with me. I just work here.

The students, for their part, are equally intrigued. After our evening of calling, I sat with them and asked what they enjoyed most and least about phone-a-thonning. They said they have fun, that most alumni are cordial and willing to chat. One scruffy kid astutely observed patterns of giving among younger grads and retired folk, and suggested reasons for why deadbeats remained deadbeats. I'll have to mention that at a future development conference.

Maybe some of these kids will grow up to be fund raisers. They're off to a rousing start. At the very least, I hope they will be faithful donors and will respond to student callers in years to come.

I, of course, have a newfound respect for the student callers. Their job can be trying and demoralizing, invigorating and rewarding. From now on, when kids from Penn call, I'll cut them some slack. They just want to help out my alma mater (and score some free pizza).

I encourage anyone who hasn't tried phoning alumni to give it a shot. Try convincing people who have never given that they should donate this year. Be prepared to swallow your pride. Listen to the objections and the epithets and the guffaws. And then hear someone promise you $1,000 when you least expect it, or gush about her years at your college, or describe how her time there changed her life.

And remember to pick up the phone and be nice when your college appears on caller ID.