Coffee talk: A sweet lesson in building strong donor relationships
It was the first day of sitting shiva, the seven days of mourning following the Jewish burial of a loved one, for my then boyfriend’s (now husband’s) grandmother.
It also happened to be my birthday.
In a heartwarming effort to bring a touch of birthday cheer to an otherwise melancholy gathering, my soon-to-be-family surprised me with a gigantic sheet cake from the best bakery in town.
While it felt a bit awkward drawing celebratory attention on this occasion, I appreciated their thoughtfulness—and I cannot deny my love for good cake. Admittedly, my stomach was growling in anticipation of savoring what was sure to be 77,000 (give or take) leftover pieces of this exquisite buttercream confection.
As the shiva was winding down, I stepped outside to chat with a friend. When I returned to the apartment, my. Cake. Was. Gone.
A quick investigation revealed that Syd*, a neighbor, had asked if he could take some goodies to his place down the hall. Yes! By all means! Shivas are often feasts of treats, with hosts and guests contributing all manner of sustenance for the grieving. Indeed, there were trays of delights ripe for Syd’s noshing—cookies, pies, petit fours, chocolate-dipped pretzels, candies, rugelach, brownies, and every January berry and melon available in the grocery aisles.
In what world would a person choose to take home SOMEONE ELSE’S BIRTHDAY CAKE?
Apparently, Syd’s world.
Needless to say, I was bummed by his undisputed disregard for the social code.
Unduly bummed? Perhaps. Although my husband has come to understand that no matter how much time has passed since the “Syd the Shiva Cake Stealer” incident, all I really want for my birthday is cake.
Cake, part II: Ten years later
Happy birthday to me (and to Carl, I guess).
Last week, as my real age ticked another year closer to my soul’s (and knees’) age, my husband presented me with a beautiful round layer cake.
Inscribed with birthday wishes for Carl.
Cue The Ting Tings: That's not my name.
Followers of my blog may recall my post lamenting the evolution of “the Karen,” proclaiming my responsibility to be a “good Caren” (with a C!), and noting the various names that have been Sharpied onto my coffee cups by baristas over the years.
They call me Erin.
They call me Sharon.
They call me Carol. Kara. Sometimes Karen.
But never Caren. And certainly not Carl.
While the two us, celebrating at home in our sweats, enjoyed a good chuckle about the Carl cake, if the same mistake appeared on, say, a donor acknowledgment letter, you can bet your Ting Tings concert tickets that I would not be laughing.
The human element
All pictures are of items
currently in my home.
Why would a donor continue to support an organization that can’t even get their name right?
Many of us, whether a nonprofit communications consultant, development professional, or donor, already understand the human side of fundraising. For two decades, leaders in the field have studied Donor Centered Fundraising, the 2003 book by expert fundraiser, researcher, and consultant Penelope Burk, in which she illuminates ways nonprofits can improve communications and donor loyalty. Among the many nuggets of wisdom revealed in her research: donors were disappointed to receive mostly predictable (i.e., generic) acknowledgment letters in response to their generosity.
It should come as no surprise that donors want assurance that organizations know—and are grateful for—who they are as people (not as wallets). Each individual has a unique connection to the nonprofits with whom they choose to engage, and it is the organization’s responsibility to appreciate, celebrate, and strengthen these singular relationships.
At the very minimum, we must prioritize personalized—and personal, whenever possible—communications as the foundation of a successful donor retention strategy.
According to the annual Fundraising Effectiveness Survey, a project of the AFP Foundation for Philanthropy, 2022 donor retention rates are expected to be down 4.1% compared to 2021—following a significant decrease of 7.4% the prior year. Retention drops continue across all types of donors, with third quarter year-to-date retention hovering around 30%.
And still organizations flounder with this small—yet measurably impactful—action, whether accidentally misspelling a name or intentionally trying to save time by addressing letters with “Dear Friend.”
Gone are the days of quietly assuming salutations, titles, partnerships, pronouns. Not only should we provide opportunities for people to share their current preferences, we need to listen to their responses and follow through accordingly.
Can’t read the handwriting on a reply card? Didn’t catch the pronunciation of a name during a loud event? When in doubt, ask. Use your question as an opportunity to check in, learn more about them, and express gratitude. No doubt most of our relationships could benefit from an additional non-solicitation touchpoint.
Actual mail received while writing this blog.
Or, you know, you could choose a roll of the dice and risk irreparable damage to the relationship.
Yes, of course, mistakes are inevitable. When they do happen, respond with grace and correct the error going forward.
Misspelling a name one time may prompt donor feedback. Repeating the mistake could result in losing their loyalty.
Giving is personal. Philanthropy is rooted in relationships that may be built upon more layers than a Carl cake. But the first step is simple: know my name.
Hi. I’m Caren with a C.
What’s your name? Introduce yourself on LinkedIn, Facebook, or caren@carenfriedmancomms.com. I look forward to meeting you!
Want help building strong donor relationships and personalizing your audience-driven donor communications? I’m now booking projects for spring and beyond. Reach out here.
*May or may not be his real name.
