A few weeks ago I was sat on a train when a four-year-old girl and her mum came and sat opposite me. The little girl beamed at me across the table and excitedly told me it was her first time on a train and she was going into town for tea. She asked me where I was going, and I explained that I was travelling to London to meet some of the people I worked with. The girl’s mother asked what I did, and I explained that I was a fundraiser.
Across the aisle, a man overheard me and over the top of his briefcase, shouted: “You’re one of those aren’t you? You are one of those that call up old people asking them for money, and if they say no, you make them feel bad until they give!”
I felt frozen by his words and his attack towards the career I treasure so dearly. I wanted to speak, but no words would come out. I stared down at my phone, tears pricking into the corners of my eyes, while the majority of the passengers around me watched the scene.
Calmly, I smiled and politely explained that I was a corporate fundraiser working with businesses but had worked in all areas of fundraising – and I always put my donors first.
I then went on to explain that I had fallen into fundraising when my four-year-old, Seth, had fallen ill with pneumonia. He’s disabled and became very ill. He ended up staying in hospital for three weeks, and there was a point where we feared the worst.
After Seth recovered I started fundraising voluntarily as a thank you to the hospital and raised more than £15,000 in the first two years. Without realising it at the time, I gave this stranger who had verbally attacked me a really personal story.
The mother sitting opposite me then explained that her son had cystic fibrosis and had used the same hospital for treatment on a monthly basis. She looked at me with kind eyes and thanked me for supporting the hospital where her son receives life-changing care. The man looked rather embarrassed but didn’t mutter a word. Feeling very emotional, I got off the train and switched to a different one in order to escape the atmosphere.
I shut the incident out of my mind for a few days, but eventually started to hope that my explanation on the train had shed a bit of light on the work that we fundraisers do and just how much we care. I have seen so many fundraisers sacrificing time with their very young children – Christmas plays, countless lunchtimes and various other important and precious things – and often cancelling holidays because they are needed to support their charities’ work urgently.
Fundraisers make something out of nothing; we change the world with nothing more than words and pictures.We have no product to send donors. Instead we try to make people realise how important their kindness is to the charity, and the impact it will have. I want the warm feeling they get to last as long as possible, because donors deserve to feel great about themselves.
If I’m ever in the situation where someone questions the career I care so deeply about again, I will explain that we sell a feeling, and that feeling goes on to change the world, and ultimately a life. I am proud of that. I hope other fundraisers feel strong enough to do the same, because without fundraisers there would be few charities changing the world.
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.
