From the Archives (May 2004): Falling in Love (Again) with Donor Relations

Debbie Meyers
Then: Director of Stewardship and Donor Relations, University of Florida Foundation
Now: AVP of Advancement Operations, Chautauqua Institution

For the first few years of my job, I was totally enamored with the programs I was creating and the endowment reports I was generating. Everyone loved my work, and I felt validated and loved, professionally.

But after a while, I began feeling like the romance had left my job. The honeymoon was over.

Writing thank-you letter after thank-you letter had eroded my self respect. I spent hours thanking people I didn’t know, on behalf of someone else, for gifts made to areas I knew little about. My letters praised donors for gifts that would “change many lives for generations to come,” but I had no idea where that money was going or whose life it was going to change or in what way. I felt like the stereotypical used car salesman.

People outside the philanthropy world often assume “donor relations” means endless cocktail parties and galas, and, in general, hanging out with rich people. The reality is that I sit at my desk much of the time proofreading letters, analyzing data, answering complaints, designing programs and other fun stuff. I can go weeks without ever seeing or talking to a donor.

One afternoon I threw myself a pity party. I noted that my office is within feet of researchers who are finding cures for cancer, students who are designing ecosystems that will feed the world, artists who will entertain and enrich. These people will change the lives of millions. And what do I do? I go to meetings to discuss what color the program cover should be for our next recognition banquet. Woo hoo! That Nobel Prize is headed my way, for sure!

A development officer here recently quit her job to go back to school to pursue a nursing degree. “I want to touch people’s lives,” she said. “I’m not touching people’s lives here. It’s all about where the next gift is coming from. I want to make a difference.” I could relate. How am I helping humanity by sending out parking passes to donors for football games?

Weeks later, it hit me. It’s not that she – and you and I, colleagues – are not touching people’s lives. We most assuredly are. We’re just far removed from it. We don’t see it, so we assume it doesn’t happen.

On April 17, I was lucky enough to actually see it happen. I saw my work touch people’s lives.

It was at our first endowment luncheon, a campus-wide event where we matched endowment sponsors (usually donors, but sometimes their descendants or corporate reps) and beneficiaries (students, faculty, anyone who benefits from an endowed fund). For many sponsors, this was the first time they had ever seen student scholarship recipients, the professor who holds their chair, or the curator who uses their funds to purchase art or books.

The testimonials were moving. Real people, telling real stories about how endowments are helping them make the world a better place to live. There were tears, laughter, joy and gratitude. Everything you could want from a stewardship event happened that day. People felt good about giving to our institution and they felt proud of themselves. They SAW the difference they made. They heard about it. It was truly amazing to behold.

Bottom line, we’re in donor relations because we’re good with people and we care. We have made being thoughtful, appreciative and accountable an art form. We are Jiminy Cricket and Miss Manners, and we make sure our institutions are too. That’s pretty darned important.

Never lose sight of the fact that we save lives, and we change lives through our profession. It may be in a “Kevin Bacon/Six Degrees of Separation” way, but it is nonetheless true that we do make a difference. A good one!