As a kid, I never did much fundraising. My parents felt pressuring neighbors into purchasing things to support my school trips was inappropriate. This was fine by me — if Mom and Dad were willing to pay, why would I stand out in the cold while Mrs. Schmidt decided on what kind of pie she wanted?
The truth is, I hated fundraising then, and I hate it now. At my folk’s place one evening, the doorbell rang. They seldom get visitors, so the bell took me by surprise.
I open the door to a little hockey player. "Wanna buy something to support our hockey team?"
Do I want to? If I refused to order something from this boy’s catalogue of rip-offs, I would instantly become the selfish jerk who doesn’t care… the cheap lady in the nice house… the evil witch. If I turned this boy down, he would without a doubt trudge back to his mom’s van where they’d discuss how awful the Stoneburner family is as they drove out of our driveway.
"Sure! I’ll buy something!" I said, expecting the kid to jump for joy, to thank me – at least crack a smile. Instead, he took a step inside and unenthusiastically said "here’s an order form."
The brochure offered me items I could easily find at the grocery store, only the grocery store sold them for a third of the price. A pan of lasagna for $24? I can make my own for about $5. A dessert for $18? Don’t need it. A frozen pizza for $15?
At this point, I began to regret answering the door. My brother would have been better at saying "no" to the hockey player. I didn’t want or need anything out of this catalogue. I originally thought I was doing the kid a favor, but he seemed pretty indifferent to whether I ordered anything.
Telling myself it was for a good cause, I filled out the order form and wrote out a check. Meanwhile, the boy complained about how long he’d been trying to sell stuff for. Once the information was in his hands, he mumbled something about 4-6 weeks and turned towards the door.
If I would have known what I know now, I could have raised a large amount of funds as a kid. I always thought a detailed sales pitch was required to sell something. However, I discovered the key ingredient to being a successful salesperson is guilt.
Shootin’ the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
I’m a writer and photographer who loves old cars, big dogs and trying stuff for the first time. I believe everyone should have a bucket list because life isn’t about working, paying bills and having the latest and greatest. It’s about experiences. Achieving goals. People. Adventures. Travel.
I’ve never dyed my hair, broken a bone, or watched a Star Wars movie, and I don’t plan on doing any of these.
Oh the Guilt!