Cold calling – two words that make any charity or member of the public very hot under the collar. But how many people have thought about the human at the other end of the line – those making the calls?
My life’s ambition is to save the world. As a recent arts graduate, full of debt and still fresh with ideological philosophies and an unhealthy obsession with hummus, I found myself back at home and looking for work.
An unpaid internship came up in the communications department of a charity. This seemed like a good place to start. In the interview “direct marketing” was mentioned as being a large part of the role and I soon found myself cold calling people in a cool attempt to recruit them to run a marathon on behalf of the charity.
A little lost, the first move I make is to call my brother; he works for a big corporate so I test out my sales pitch on him. He informs me I need to get to the point quicker and sound more confident.
It turns out receptionists are the cold caller’s nemesis. If you can get through them, then you are considered a god in the world of cold calling. I occasionally request to speak to a James or Sarah and it’s worked once or twice, but then you have the awkward moment when you are transferred to James or Sarah and you need to work the magic.
Most people are tolerant and amicable. They usually wait patiently for me to finish my spiel about why they and their colleagues should sweat their way through a Saturday morning to save some starving children in Africa. Most politely decline or give me an email address that results in my inbox becoming inundated with “mail delivery subsystem failures”. Some just transfer me to 15 other departments or make me wait on hold until I can hum the entire canned melody back to the abandoned receiver.
I once rang a man who responded to my pitch with raucous laughter. He asked me if I knew what company I had rung (I quickly glanced down at the results of my “IT company central London” Google search). The man informed me that everyone in the office was either fat or incapable of doing anything that does not involve a screen.
He did, however, give me the number of a rival IT firm and told me to ask for Vinnie. Vinnie, he said, was a great friend of his. He was overweight and was always hiding from his wife who constantly put him on diets and the latest fitness regimes. So I rang him. In hindsight perhaps ringing Vinnie’s wife would have been a bit more effective.
One of the biggest challenges I face is finding a person who fits all the requirements. Running a marathon requires fitness, dedication and time, and running for charity requires passion. Sport communities already have their loyalties with other charities, gym monkeys say they can’t generate enough sponsorship and most offices decline due to fitness and the time demand.
When I receive a call from fellow cold callers and gleefully inform them that I too do the same for a charity, they respond in one of two ways - either an instant mutual bond is formed, or a note of hesitancy comes over as they head for a tactical withdrawal. Another time I might challenge a rival cold caller, making them sweat for their charity with awkward questions that I know only too well.
Twelve months ago did I envision beginning my career this way? No. But eager me, wanting to be part of a team fighting for a better world, gave it no thought - so here I am, the person on the other end of the phone.
Confessions of a charity professional is the Guardian Voluntary Sector Network’s anonymous series where charity workers tell it how it is. If you would like to pitch us an idea, click here.
