The Fund Raiser

Are We Successful?

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By Mark J. Drozdowski

I finally discovered a way to confound my normally unflappable consultant, Bill Daly.

"Are we successful?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?" Bill replied.

"As fund raisers, can we claim to be successful professionals based on our own definition of success?"

Bill looked puzzled and a bit irritated. We had spent a long day on the road recruiting volunteers for our capital campaign. So I explained myself more thoroughly.

Those of us who work in development tend to like people with money. Believe it or not, they help us do our job. We talk about them all the time, actually, often in glowing terms. We want to be their friends, and we hope they harbor similar sentiments. Rich people are good for us. They make us giddy.

At least that's what is drilled into our heads from Day One. I remember my first few staff meetings at a research university where I worked for several years. All the folks would gather weekly around the vice president's conference table to discuss prospects and procedures. The conversation would sound something like this (I've changed the donor's name but his situation is real):

"You know, Dan Dinero is going to be at Friday's basketball game."

"Wow! Dan Dinero?"

"Yeah, that's awesome, eh?"

"Um, who's Dan Dinero?"

Blank stares at the uninitiated, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"Dan was Class of '78 but dropped out to take over his dad's dealership. Biggest in the state. He's become very successful."

That is, selling cars. Lots of them.

So Dan's worth millions, and he's remained connected to the university he scorned years before. We still liked Dan, of course, even though he dumped us for greener pastures.

"We need to get him to the president's box. Be sure to introduce yourself."

"Maybe we can give him an alumni achievement award, or even an honorary degree!"

"Great idea! He might name the new arena!"

If Dan only knew how much we admired and respected him. He's a model citizen, that Dan. Quite, you know, successful.

But imagine if Dan ran into hard luck. Say there's some recall on his brand of vehicles. Every seventh turn of the ignition could trigger a fire, incinerating occupants. Sales plummet. Dan's desperate dealings land him on the front page for all the wrong reasons. He's all but broke and certainly disgraced. Dan needs friends.

He won't find them here.

No, Dan's worth to us is measured by his checkbook (or stock portfolio or real-estate holdings or offshore accounts). Deep down, we don't really respect Dan as a person or a professional. Truth is, he's a bit of a buffoon, and we've never forgiven him for skipping town just to make money. Least he can do is pay us back. Now that he can't, he's yesterday's news.

We fund raisers, on the other hand, are an educated bunch, and we value education as a currency. It's our product. Many of us have advanced degrees. We work for a cause, a mission, a higher calling. We deal with sophisticated issues and bright people, and balance our God-given intelligence with our uncanny ability to schmooze and blandish and our flair for sartorial splendor. We are the Total Package.

But are we successful?

We might make decent salaries, even downright good ones, but we will never see the kind of cash we chase unless we change fields, win Powerball, or marry Paris Hilton. That holds true particularly for those of us pursuing major-gift prospects. If you spend your days cavorting with wealthy people and valuing them for their wealth and what it can do, doesn't your own self-worth take a kick in the chops?

The easy response, naturally, is "money isn't everything." True. But for fund raisers, it's ultimately the most important thing, at least in terms of our bottom-line goals. And I don't buy the rationale that people in higher education consider money a distant concern. If you've ever seen faculty members squabble over a 3-percent raise, you know how much it matters.

Back up a minute, you may say. Some of those big donors truly are successful. They reached the top of their fields and happened to make money along the way. In some cases, they're doing something positive for society through their business practices, then compounding that goodness through philanthropy. Isn't that the true definition of success -- reaching your own goals?

Sure, I'll concede the point, but let me ask this: Are we more concerned with the nature of the success or the monetary byproduct? Do we fawn over folks whose success hasn't translated into big bucks? Would we have been so eager to get Gandhi into the president's box, great photo op aside?

So I'll return to my initial query: Are we successful? Put another way, can we define success more broadly so that we may be included? Was Dan, before his meltdown, truly successful? Or was Dan -- to paraphrase former University of Oklahoma coach Barry Switzer -- born on third base and going through life thinking he hit a triple?

What about faculty members, especially those recognized as experts in their disciplines? Do they consider themselves successful despite the constant wrangling over equitable pay? Try asking one.

Bill, my consultant, put everything into perspective, once he calmed down.

"I've raised millions of dollars for scholarships, academic programs, and facilities," he said. "Through my work, I've helped hundreds of kids get a college education, and I've made institutions immeasurably stronger. I'd say that's being pretty successful."

Touché, Bill. I suppose it's difficult to maintain a healthy perspective -- much like the Mercedes salesman who drives home in a Hyundai. When you spend your career exalting dollars and defining success as the collection of them, it's inevitable that you might, from time to time, evaluate your own success using the same barometer.

I'll buy the easy answer that "successful" and "made a lot of money" aren't synonymous. And I would take a photo op with Gandhi over one with Dan any day.

But let me ask this of fellow fund raisers: Have you ever, even just once, questioned your own value -- net worth, if not human worth -- in relation to the donors with whom you interact? Has your conclusion caused a wee bit of consternation?

If you answered no, then you're more secure in your own skin than most. If it's yes, congratulations for being honest.