Fortunately/Alas, I’ve never bumped into a donor in the waiting room of a colorectal specialist. Which feels like a real missed opportunity. But I have run into donors at the airport. Multiple times. Which is a problem because I’m a pain in the ass (get it?) traveler who tends to get impatient with people wearing pajamas on airplanes.

Since I (mostly) don’t enjoy behaving like an unchill Leslie Knope in front of my donors, airport run-ins pose more of a challenge for me than a would-be colonoscopy meet-n-greet.

Here are two recent times I ran into donors at the airport and what it tells us about the fundraising tests we take when flying these friendly skies.

United Flight 717: Fort Myers to Baltimore (last April)

Picture it: I’m standing at my gate irritated by how rude the TSA agent was when I took my belt off at security (“YoU DoN’t HaVe tO dO tHaT, sIr!”). I look up and see one of my donors waiting in the pre-boarding line on the same flight as me.

I approach, say hello, and behave like a person wearing clothes that require a belt (i.e. not pajamas) to the airport.

She proceeds to tell me she’s about to fake a hip injury to board the plane early and asks if I want to pose as her grandson so I can get on early, too. (You guys, this is a 100% true story). I can’t tell if she’s joking but then sense she’s pretty locked-in to the hip injury story. I politely decline and then watch an Oscar-worthy fake hobble that somehow gets her through the gate and onto the plane.

I watched it, texted a friend what just happened, and stopped being in a bad mood.

SIDEBAR

We’ve been awash in airplane-inspired stories around these parts, haven’t we?:

• I Watched Two Italian Teenagers Break Up on an 8-Hour Transatlantic Flight. Here’s What It Teaches Us About Letting Donors Go

• Summer Reading: How to Land a Plane (and a Gift) Without Crashing Out

• I Went Skydiving. My Parachute Didn’t Open Correctly. But I Swear There’s a Fundraising Point to it

There must be a reason for all this. Somebody psychoanalyze me in the comments.

Southwest Flight 241: Baltimore to Houston (last week)

For reasons I won’t re-litigate here, I started an argument with my wife and kids on the drive to the airport for an unmercifully early morning flight to Houston. Suffice to say, I put everybody in a bad mood.

As I’m boarding the plane, I see one of my donors/Board members already seated. She’s getting settled, helping her daughter (maybe 5 or 6?) get comfortable, and doing all the things parents do on a plane. As I walked past, I gave a wave, smiled, said “good morning,” and kept walking. She looked up, waved, smiled, said “good morning,” and got back to airplane parenting.

I found my seat, buckled up, ignored the safety demonstration, and then slept the sleep of the just and the fulfilled because I was no longer in a bad mood.

I run into donors out in the wild all the time: grocery stores, gas stations, playing pickleball, etc. I once ran into a donor who was standing behind me at a Royal Farms (a local convenience store) when my son asked me what’s for dinner. My donor overheard this A++ parenting: “No idea. Whatever you’re hungry for in this Royal Farms, I guess.” And I’ll never stop being disappointed about my imaginary would-be colonoscopy run-in. (I even knew what I was going to say: “You get colonoscopies here, too!? Twins!”)

What my donors and I didn’t talk about during these two airport encounters is worth mulling over and the real point of this post. We didn’t talk about:

• Money—either having it or giving it to me when I ask for it

• Board business and upcoming committee meetings and who’s going to do what and when

• “I know I owe you an email” knee-jerk statements

• General work stuff

What would an in-flight solicitation of a donor even sound like, Dan? Here’s my best guess:“Welly, welly, well…look who’s sitting in business class. Feels like it’s time to increase your gift!” First, hysterical. Second, obnoxious. Third, we were flying Southwest. There is no Business class.

What we did talk about:

• Faking injuries and scamming airlines

• Genuine greetings. And then nothing at all (Though we had a delightful email exchange a few days later about it)

• Colonoscopy twinning (imaginary, but wished for!)

I’m strangely reassured by these chance airport encounters. Like the personal and professional parts of my personality don’t get so jumbled that I always have cartoon dollar signs in my eyes when I see a donor in the wild. And they don’t instinctively duck for cover when they see me walking onto an airplane.

It makes me feel like I’m doing my fundraising right. Like I passed an airport fundraising test that I didn’t study for, didn’t know I was taking, and get to grade myself on Substack.

Which is all I need to get me out of an airport (and a colonoscopy) in a better mood than I entered it.

Subscribe now

The Jane Austen Society of North America (JASNA) recently published an article of mine about how bagging a husband in Pride and Prejudice looks an awful lot like the way today’s fundraisers raise money for charity. The piece looks into the quick courtship of practical-minded Charlotte Lucas and the dippy Mr. Collins. Check out an excerpt here and DM me to learn more about JASNA!

I wrote it last summer and delivered a presentation based on it last spring. (Should the spirit so move you, you can watch the presentation here).

As summer slips away and you’re (a) on the lookout for a nineteenth-century husband, (b) interested in honing your fundraising prospect cultivation skills while on the lookout for a nineteenth-century husband, or (c) convinced Predator is actually a criminally unappreciated adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice…then this post is for you!

One or two of the three things above are (mostly) true. Read on to find out which ones.

First, a word on Jane Austen’s love language and their sexed-up movie adaptations.

Flex your hand achingly like Matthew Macfadyen in the 2005 Pride & Prejudice if you love a sexy movie adaptation of a classic novel. Alright, that’s enough. Of course you do. Everybody does. All that cinematic heat and finger flexing is there for a very good reason.

Let’s stay with the 2005 Pride & Prejudice, shall we? On top of Darcy’s hand flexing, the movie’s ending is a swoony mix of romantic tension and intimacy between Elizabeth and Darcy. The film wants to assure us all that they’re MFEO (Made For Each Other). The new Wuthering Heights knows this. The new Wuthering Heights knows this A LOT! Like, maybe it knows it a little too much? Let me get your heart racing, Substack:

The Pride & Prejudice adaptation needs the above close-eyed, nose-on-nose nuzzling because Austen’s novel has a unique love language that doesn’t always translate on screen. Compatibility in the novel is registered through esteem, respect, and—interestingly enough—gratitude. That’s right: because Elizabeth and Darcy feel gratitude for one another, it makes them a MMIJAH (Match Made in Jane Austen Heaven). Meaningful glances and kissing in wind-swept landscapes translates emotions and concepts in the historical novels that are tough (but not impossible!) for modern audiences to buy into.

Be real, Substack: Would you rather watch gratitude or sexual tension on screen? I leave the answer to you to your own conscience. (Real talk for real ones: how long did you suffer through the Twilight movies just to see if Edward and Bella finally DTD. Which—SPOILER—they did in Breaking Dawn, Part I. But only after making us sit through an unmerciful 420 minutes across numerous sequels waiting for it. Barf).

In the article, I make the case that Charlotte Lucas (a practically minded woman desperate for the security of marriage) is both charity case and fundraiser rolled into one. It takes her just two days to cultivate Mr. Collins into making a marriage proposal. She fundraises for a husband the same way nonprofits fundraisers court donors. (See what I did there?)

So, where’s my steamy, hand-flexing scenes with Mr. Collins when he helps Charlotte into a carriage in Pride & Prejudice, huh? Where’s my flirtatious “Hold on tight, spider monkey!” while a besotted Charlotte piggy-backs Mr. Collins as they climb trees together in the Pacific Northwest? It’s not there because the novel doesn’t overtly suggest Collins and Charlotte express gratitude toward one another.

Flip to the end of my article and you’ll see that I make the case that there’s more gratitude expressed between these two newlyweds than meets the eye. That matters because gratitude isn’t just good for relationships (both in Austen’s time and our own). It’s one of the most powerful forces in fundraising.

And you certainly don’t need me to tell you that gratitude is fundraising’s love language.

Look, are Charolotte and Collins a MMIJAFH (Match Made in Jane Austen Fundraising Heaven)? Maybe/maybe not. Perhaps the best thing they teach us is that gratitude—in conjunction with other things like purpose and partnership—doesn’t come ready made. It needs to grow as people grow together. It’s what makes for happy couples. And for healthy fundraising relationships.

Mr. Collins isn’t the catch of the (nineteenth) century and he’s certainly not THTHIJARW (Too Hot to Handle In Jane Austen’s Regency World). He does, however, have the best line in the movie that’s not actually in the novel:

So below is my new, cut-for-time conclusion in the article to try even harder to connect your fundraising to Jane Austen. It’s not in the article because I didn’t know it when I was writing it. And it’s not in the presentation from last April because I forgot to include it like a dummy.

Here goes:

Did you know that a thank you note—a document expressing gratitude and that’s one of the most essential tools in a fundraiser’s toolkit—has historically been referred to as a “Collins”? And the Oxford English Dictionary traces this specific usage back to Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice:

When you hear “Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy,” think of opposites attract who live happily ever after.

When you hear “Catherine and Heathcliff,” think of obsessive, brooding love (and one insanely sexed-up 2026 adaptation).

When you hear “Bella and Edward,” ask yourself why a woman would marry a man obsessed with the smell of her blood.

And when you hear “Charlotte and Mr. Collins”? My article, this Substack post, fundraisers near and far, and (maybe) even the departed spirit of Jane Austen herself would ask you to think of them as an expression of gratitude in motion.

In love.

As in fundraising.

Subscribe now

PS: Big time thank you to those who let me twist their arms to read early versions of the article and gave such helpful feedback about Austen’s connection to fundraising. And thanks also to KG and WP for making this post much more fun than the version I sent them to read!

Predator is a 1987 crowd-pleaser starring Arnold Schwarzenegger as Dutch, the leader of a band of elite commandos sent into the jungle for 1980s reasons. Cut off from the outside world, our band of heroes discover they’re being hunted by an alien who—Spoiler Alert!—sees heat. The alien picks them off one by one until Dutch takes a mud bath and pummels Predator in a very unladylike fashion. The movie opens with helicopters flying in and it ends with helicopters flying out.

Predator is—to my mind—a masterpiece.

If you can muster the self-discipline to look beyond the crackling dialogue (“I ain’t got time to bleed!” and “What’s the matter? CIA got you pushing too many pencils?!”) I ask that you open your hearts and minds to accept the fact that Predator can teach us all something about raising money for charity and living to tell the tale.

I’ve bivouacked (am I using that term correctly? I feel like I’m not using that term correctly…) a fundraiser, a movie buff, and my mother into the hot, dangerous Substack jungle on a mission to hunt out fundraising insights from this Schwarzenegger classic. Armed only with their wits, they’ll analyze a movie—it pains me to recall—that the crybabies at the LA Times once called “arguably one of the emptiest, feeblest, most derivative scripts ever made as a major studio movie.”

Who will make it out of this post alive? Read on to find out!

1. The Fundraiser (Jules): Chief Development Officer by day and Jane Austen aficionado by night. Chair of the Board of Directors of Fundraising for Breakfast

   
   I rewatched Predator the other night. This time through Dan’s eyes. Fundraising lessons are everywhere! Especially Jesse Ventura’s giant minigun that never misses whatever he shoots it at. That minigun is every fundraiser’s dream: it’s the perfect donor meeting, flawless talking points, a polished leave-behind, and confidence that you’ve got the ask locked up.

   

   But then the donor ghosts you. Weeks pass. The follow-up email goes unanswered. The big gun didn’t work—just like Jesse’s didn’t.

   
   Fundraising, like Predator, rewards knowing when to switch weapons. Sometimes the minigun matters. Sometimes it’s Arnold’s homemade bow and arrow he makes at the end of the movie. Sometimes it’s the nuke that blows everything up. The trick is knowing which one your donor—or, your Predator—requires in that moment.

   
   Here’s some Predator wisdom to chew on and spit out like Jesse Ventura’s disgusting chewing tobacco: “Something out there’s waiting for us and it ain’t no man.” It’s what every fundraiser needs to hear!

2. The Movie Buff (Walker): Baltimore native, attorney, and has a tattoo of dialogue from Repo Man on his forearm

   
   I saw Predator in the theater in 1987 with my cousin, my uncle, and a bunch of my uncle’s pothead friends. We loved it. They thought it was hilarious that the Predator wore fishnets and never questioned how Arnold managed to outrun a nuclear explosion.

   
   But even as a kid, I felt unsettled. Dillon lied to Dutch after that famous handshake, and because of it the team got destroyed. Blain was dead. Mac was grieving. Billy’s heroic last stand ended before it even began. It didn’t feel fair.

   
   But it felt right.

   
   That’s what a great story does. It earns your trust so completely that you’ll follow it anywhere. It can surprise you, upset you, or completely change gears, but it never breaks the promise it made to the audience. That’s not a bad definition of good fundraising, either. The tactics may change, but the promise never should.

3. My Mother (Kitty): Retired hospital administrator, Keith Morrison girlie, delivered me successfully via c-section 48 years ago.

   
   No, Dan, Predator is not the best fundraising movie ever made. Not even close.

   
   Predator is to fundraising what Titanic is to water safety. Don’t go there.

   

   Who actually is the predator here? The monster is just living his/her life, and this guy comes in chasing him. I picture the monster going “who IS this guy?” You don’t want your donor asking, “who is this guy,” do you Dan?

   
   Best Schwarzenegger movie related to fundraising is Terminator. What fundraiser hasn’t uttered these immortal words: “I’ll be back.”

   
   Actually…come to think of it…I don’t think I’ve ever seen Predator. I probably should have led with that. Sorry…

Jules (absolutely), Walker (definitely), and Kitty (sort of) would agree with me that Predator is ideal for fundraisers because it never forgets what it is. Even though it starts out as a straight-forward action flick and then turns into a psychological thriller and somehow ends up as a sci-fi monster classic… it never loses its own thread.

It opens with helicopters. It ends with helicopters.

Remember when that woman shows up in the middle of the movie? Every instinct tells you she’s about to become the movie’s love interest. Nope. Just more meat for the meat grinder. And at the end, Arnold doesn’t try to reason with Predator. Who came for that? They fistfight, of course. And the good guy wins. And you cheer because you have species loyalty.

The movie always remembers the deal it makes with the audience. You came for muscles, explosions, amazing dialoge, and a monster. That’s what you get.

Isn’t good fundraising the same? You can change and experiment with approaches, launch a giving day, try a new stewardship strategy, or completely rewrite an appeal. But donors are still showing up for the same thing: to solve a problem they care about and to feel like their gift mattered. The tactics can evolve. The promise can’t.

The best fundraising never forgets the promise it makes and what it’s there to do.

Take it from Jules, Walker, Kitty, and all the commandos in Predator who didn’t survive to see the closing credits roll: the best fundraising opens with helicopters and it ends with helicopters.

Subscribe now

You’ve met Jasper. He’s told you about his fundraising once before. This is how he greets new people when he meets them on a walk:

In honor of all the pets in our lives, let’s look into some of the coolest, most creative fundraising out there for animal welfare/pet adoption. Consider adopting one of the cats, dogs, and goats below, or simply incorporate these creative ideas into your fundraising.

Consider this post the long, sloppy lick across your babyface to cool you off during those hot fundraising summer nights!

Jasper and I devoted the past week to searching the entire internet for creative shelter/adoption/animal well-being fundraising. Below is the best out there:

1. “Poorly Drawn Pet Portraits” Fundraiser

   The Baltimore Area Rescue and Care Shelter (BARCS) non-profit hosts an annual fundraiser that brings volunteers together to draw pictures of your pet in exchange for donations. No artistic skills required (I suspect the less artistic you are the better) and proceeds go toward maintaining the shelter, providing veterinary care for the animals, and feeding the over 1,000 animals a month they take in.

   

   Notice how they’re not asking you to crank out pet drawings in the privacy of your own home like some sort of cut-rate, non-profit sweatshop. It’s communal: go drink a few beers, meet fellow animal lovers, and laugh about what you come up with. It raises money and makes connections between fellow animal lovers. So smart.
   

2. Tinder Profiles for Shelter Animals

   During “National Dog Week” (the last full week of September every year), shelters around the country (like Wags & Walks in LA, Animal Care Centers of NYC, and Special Pals in Houston) create Tinder dating profiles for adoptable shelter animals to match them with loving homes. It’s part of a program called “Rescue Matches,” and people can feature adoptable dogs from their geographic region in their dating profiles and help promote the adoption while also trying to make a love connection of their own.

   

   Rescue workers report these profiles not only generate buzz and attention for shelters, but the effort also leads to shelter sponsorships and general donations in addition to adoption interest.
   

3. “Terrible Life Advice from Shelter Pets” Fundraiser

   Jasper and I went for a long, long walk down a Reddit thread on this topic. We read about “Terrible Life Advice from Shelter Pets” from numerous sources, but couldn’t find an actual organization doing it. But it’s such a good idea that we committed ourselves to filling in the blanks for any fundraiser out there who wants to replicate it.

   
   Here’s how it should work: people make a donation to a shelter and then receive a handwritten piece of terrible life advice written by a specific shelter pet looking for a home. (A great way to get volunteers involved, too!). Here’s some samples Jasper and I came up with as we polished off our second box of wine together:

   
   Raisin Bran the shelter cat (adoptable from BARCS by clicking here)

   

   King Casserole the good doggie (adoptable from BARCS by clicking here)

   

   You can symbolically sponsor animals, too, like this old goat named Baron Von Goat at The Gentle Barn. He’s liable to give you this advice:

   

We adopted Jasper from a rescue five years ago and he’s been helping me create online content ever since. We’re thankful for all the organizations out there doing this important work and raising money for animals in super creative ways.

I suspect the real fundraising lesson here is that you don’t need a brilliant campaign to raise money for good causes. Maybe all you need is one good joke, one memorable story, and a dog who believes every stranger is already in love with him.

Speaking of dogs who think everybody is love with them, here’s Jasper’s Tinder profile I help him set up this weekend to get in the spirit of helping his pet brothers and sisters still in shelters:

He probably won’t find true love on Tinder because he already has me. But somewhere in a shelter, there’s a dog or cat with just as much personality waiting for someone to swipe right in real life.

And that’s why these wonderfully kooky fundraisers work. They don’t just ask us to donate. They remind us that behind every campaign is an animal worth getting to know.

Subscribe now

You can tell a lot about how somebody raises money by how they get a bird out of their house. I’m speaking with all the hard-boiled confidence of a Law & Order detective on this one, you guys: give me one bizarre bird story and I’ll tell you exactly what kind of fundraiser you are.

In the avian-removal system, birds are escorted out of people’s homes by two separate yet equally important kinds of fundraisers: those who calmly open a window and wait for the bird to leave, and those who stand on a folding chair and wave brooms over their heads.

These are their fundraising stories.

Below are a few anecdotes I collected straight from the horse’s mouth bird’s beak. (Nicely done, Dan!) Each was shared by a dear friend of Fundraising For Breakfast:

Kaitlyn: Marketer, comedy writer, and real one who wrote this classic guest post:

It’s 2010 and I’m a high school student working at an off-brand Chuck E. Cheese. A bird flies in through the front door and everybody freaks. I dump a plastic bin full of children’s shoes on the gross floor. I smack the bin down over top of the bird and push the bird fluttering around inside toward the door, and back into the wilds of New Jersey. To the children, I am their new god. To the parents, I give this look:

Holly: Major Gifts fundraiser extraordinaire; Once got her arm stuck in a mailbox sending donor thank-you notes:

Never had a bird in the house. I did once have a bat fly into my living room and land on my curtains. I called my neighbor who came over with a mason jar and a lid. He snuck up behind it, put the mason jar over the bat, put the lid on, took it outside, and set it free. Apparently you catch bats in mason jars? We now call him Batman.

Renee: Marketing maven, Fundraising For Breakfast Board member, Eminem to my Rihanna:

Susan: Writer, Marketer, inspiration behind the Fundraising For Breakfast Police Blotter (here and here—which I need to bring back):

Wes: Public health guru, novelist, genius behind Wes Writes a Western:

My brother once found a squirrel hiding in his bedroom. We used a broomstick to nudge the squirrel to the top of the stairs. My dad opened the front door and from the landing it leapt off the top stairs only to reveal a pair of membranous wings. It glided in the air, through the open door, and out of our lives forever. Best Irish goodbye I’ve ever seen.

Amanda: New fundraising colleague who agreed to subscribe to this Substack on a very short acquaintance with me:

There are two kinds of fundraisers in my above spin-off episodes of Law & Order & Fundraising & Birds (Produced by Dick Wolf and Dan Mangiavellano)

Open-the-window fundraisers and Chase-the-bird fundraisers.

Open-the-window fundraisers have soft hands and find ways of making the bird do what it already wants to do. They open a window or a door and let the bird find its own way out. Classic Lennie Brisco (RIP).

Chase-the-bird fundraisers have calloused hands and the wherewithal to reach for a broom, round up some helpers, and make something happen. Like Ice-T on whichever spin-off he’s on.

Brisco and Ice-T. Both professionals. Both genuinely want to help solve crime/bird problems. They simply have different instincts. One trusts systems; the other trusts action.

Some days I’m an open-the-window fundraiser. I figure out what’s already in place, what small obstacle I can remove, and how to make it easy for donors to find their own way forward. Other days I’m a chase-the-bird fundraiser. I’m sending one more email, scheduling one more meeting, and swinging a broom over my head.

You’re probably a combo of both, too. Most of us are.

These Thunderdome stories should remind us to ask ourselves whether a fundraising situation needs more effort, or just an open window.

I suspect it’s just about the end of all of your fundraising Fiscal Years. So go open a window or grab a broom. Whatever the situation calls for is the right thing to do.

Subscribe now

Something will be lost in the retelling, but here goes:

We’re maybe four hours into an overnight flight to Rome. I hear hushed rapid-fire Italian behind us. I peek back and see two impossibly good-looking Italian teenagers—nothing but cheek bones and perfect symmetry—in a moment of crisis. Arguing and gesturing with their hands. She’s crying. He’s absently shaking his head. It’s the best episode of Love Island that’s ever taken place on an airplane. Below is almost exactly what I saw:

She’s crying and sort of punching his shoulder with the bottom of her fist. He’s staring absently out the window at absolutely nothing. I’m craning my neck to watch the whole thing through the small gap between seats. I’m providing my wife with a blow-by-blow of what’s happening because she refuses to look behind her like every single person on this airplane is now doing.

These smoking hot Italians didn’t break up in vain! Not on my watch, Substack! These piccioncini italiani (trans: “little Italian pigeons” or “lovebirds”) reminded me of something about what should happen when relationships with donors come to an end.

Breaking up is hard to do. But only when it feels like a break up.

Every fundraiser hates it when donors decide to walk away from an organization. Whatever the reason a donor has for withholding a gift (maybe they’re retiring, moving away, or just don’t feel it anymore), a fundraiser’s knee-jerk instinct is to throw the kitchen sink at them to keep them giving.

Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn’t.

Maybe you’ve done it. I know I have. It’s not a great look.

Case in point: I had a donor move out of state but he said he wanted to keep giving to my organization (which has a regional—not national—focus). We stayed in touch but eventually his philanthropic interests found outlets in his new hometown. And just like an Italian teenager who’s blindsided when his girlfriend wants to end things on a plane, I didn’t pay attention to the tell-tale signs that our relationship was changing. He got harder to schedule with. And less interested in my organization’s impact work. During our last conversation I tried to get him to renew his gift. He said no. I pressed and asked again. He still said no.

We mostly just talked past one another. Pretty brutal stuff.

We broke up.

Haven’t spoken since.

The relationship crashed out.

SIDEBAR

On a lighter note (and speaking of avoiding crash landings): Hat’s off to Air Italia for the best in-flight safety video in the game. It features Italian Olympians and Paralympians doing all the safety checks.

For more airplane-inspired fundraising, check out previous posts featuring parachute malfunctions and how to land a plane (and a gift) without crashing out. For more Olympian-inspired fundraising, get your heart rate pumping with this banger post. We know you have a choice in Substack subscriptions so on behalf of your Baltimore-based flight crew, thank you for flying with Fundraising for Breakfast.

I realize now that instead of trying like hell to shake another gift out of him, I should have been helping us find our way into a new phase of our relationship. One focused on building connections between his new interests and the investments he’d already made to my organization. One that showed him that our relationship ran deeper than geography.

Here’s what’s taken me a while to learn from this situation, but that the heartbroken Italian teenagers jogged loose for me: when a donor-relationship ends, it’s better to just say thank you for having given than wrangling them into that one last gift they clearly don’t want to give. The best thing I can do for that donor, for myself, and for my organization is to make sure they don’t leave on a bad day. And to take care that the entire relationship isn’t defined by how it ends.

I did none of these things then. I try to do them now.

Back to the Italian smokeshows.

Despite the drama, I somehow (somehow!) fall asleep. I wake up, and it’s quiet. I look behind me, and she’s not there. Just him! Still looking out the window. Like this:

I turn to Wife: “She’s gone! She’s not there! What’s going on?”

Wife: “My God, relax, would you? And keep your voice down…she probably moved seats while you were sleeping. Stop looking at them!”

Me (distracted, cold, confused, alone, angry, betrayed, and a little hungry): “I can’t. I’m too worried about her.”

I’m reasonably certain these kids won’t be getting back together. Nor should they! Honestly, if you think the best time to break up is an eight-hour transatlantic flight, your relationship has problems. I do, however, hope one day they’ll exchange a text that reads, “Ciao, ciao! Remember that time when we broke up on that flight and that American wouldn’t stop looking at us? Que Bastardo!”

I’ll say the same thing to these two hot Italian love-pigeons that I’d say to all you hot Substack readers right now:

When a donor relationship is ready to end, it should end with a thank you.

On a good day.

With as little turbulence as you can manage.

Subscribe now

Backstory: In 2018, I made a small gift to this university’s Foundation in memory of a colleague’s husband. Beyond this one-time gesture, I have zero charitable inclinations toward this university.

But like clockwork, an undergraduate calls me each October and March and tells me about his amazing study abroad to Amsterdam or a cool gaming & storytelling class he took last semester. I make a point to always answer the phone, listen to him, let him ask me for a gift, and then (politely) say I’m not in a position to give this year.

I’m amazed there are students out there who choose to volunteer to raise money. When I taught English, I’d sometimes struggle to get kids in their early 20s to read a novel and talk to me like I wasn’t a Roomba with elbow patches…bouncing around the classroom picking up crumbs. But there are actually students who willingly dial up strangers and ask them for money? Wonders never cease!

So, let’s put a twist on our semi-regular “Why I Give” series and turn it this week into a “Why I Ask” post. It might shed light on why students cold-call somebody’s dad five states away and ask him for his credit card number.

I reached out to a former student of mine to learn more.

Her name is Alexandra. She goes by Alex. And she’s not afraid to make a collect call.

(Get it, you guys? “Collect call.” Like making a phone call that costs somebody else money? Like a fundraising call? I’ve worried all week nobody would understand how really clever I’m trying to be. Please reassure me in the comments)

I met Alex when she enrolled in my British literature class ten years ago. She was a sophomore amidst a group of checked-out graduating seniors and she ran laps around all of them. Fast forward to today: Alex is an Executive Recruiter working with Private Equity firms to build out the C-Suite of their portfolio companies.

And she will always remain my kids’ super-duper A++ 100% favorite babysitter of all time.

As a student, Alex volunteered with the university’s Student Philanthropy Council, which educated the student body on how fundraising impacted their collective college experience. Alex shared this with me:

Through the Student Philanthropy Council I learned about the different ways academic institutions are funded (like endowments and alumni donations). My university had something called Phonathon. I joined Phonathon a few times to make calls to “friends of” the university for live donations. It wasn’t hard, but it could get awkward. I did get a few donations though—cha-ching!

Cold-calling strangers and asking for money on the spot feels awfully awkward to me. Too high-pressure and too transactional. Do these kids even have time to get me in the right headspace to want to give? And if I do end up giving, it’s probably just because I’m trying to get off the phone. My dinner’s getting cold.

I asked Alex about her best and/or weirdest call and if anybody yelled at her:

Clearly, Alex felt connected enough to proactively support her undergraduate institution through student fundraising and volunteering with the Student Philanthropy Council. And she continues to give, just not through Phonathon:

Alex pointed me to the answer I was looking for about why students make these calls: Clearly, they raise money because they feel invested in their majors, like their fellow students, and love their school. Enough to make you want to invest, too. Which works, especially when Alex (imagined below) perms her hair, calls you from the Garfield phone in her dorm room, and asks you for a donation:

Nonetheless, I wonder if the student Phonathon will go the way of the Garfield phone, the hamburger phone, and the sweet Sports Illustrated football phone. Do would-be donors really want to be cold-called anymore? How often are people answering their phone from unknown numbers? Does anybody want a teenager putting them on the spot like that (at least one who isn’t already related to them)? I don’t think they do. Leave a comment telling us if you think there’s still something to this kind of fundraising!

Anyways, I’m still taking calls twice a year from students at a random university because I like hearing how they do something difficult: Trying to make connections on the fly. Trying to make me care about a place I’ve never visited. And responding gracefully when I (again, politely) say I won’t be making a gift this year.

In an era of AI emails and automated texts, there’s something charmingly analogue about a nervous student dialing you up and taking a shot.

So, I’ll keep answering if they keep calling. Maybe if there’s another Alex on the other end, I’ll end up making a gift after all!

Subscribe now

I’m knocking the dust off this (slightly) stale donut diva because special campaign planning should begin by asking if you want a Fred the Baker type involved. Ask yourself: do you want a rigid, perpetually exhausted man (who refers to raising money as “making the donuts”) driving your fundraising campaign? Maybe/Maybe not.

I recently published a new article in Advancing Philanthropy co-written with friend, fellow fundraiser, and Fundraising for Breakfast super-subscriber, Eryn Lessard. We called it “5 Volunteers You Want on a Special Campaign (and 1 You Don’t!).” The endlessly patient editors at Advancing Philanthropy would never let us get away with using Fred the Baker as a motif in the article. So, I’m doing it here.

Are you thinking about running a special campaign and recruiting volunteer leadership?

Are you curious which kind of volunteers can help the most?

Are you dying to learn who you don’t want on a special campaign?

If your answers are “Yes!” “Double Yes!!” and “Dish me dem dirty donuts, Dan!” (in that order) then you need to take a bite out of this jelly-filled beauty Eryn and I baked up for you.

Check it out here!

The latest installment of Advancing Philanthropy focuses on “belonging” in fundraising, though I haven’t the foggiest idea what’s going on with the cover of the issue:

Our article delves into how successful fundraising campaigns align volunteers’ natural strengths with the roles they play within a given fundraising effort. We share that when volunteers are mismatched with campaign responsibilities, organizations risk losing the enthusiasm and engagement that energizes volunteer leadership. Drawing on our experience with volunteer-led campaigns, we identify five volunteer archetypes—The Insider, The Influencer, The Connector, The Closer, and The Trailblazer—and talk about how each contributes to campaign success. Matching volunteers to the right opportunities strengthens both fundraising outcomes and volunteers’ sense of belonging. Bing, Bang, Boom.

Does one of these volunteer types sound like someone you know?

Click here to find out!

AUTHORIAL SIDENOTE:

Eryn is an oldest sibling and a Libra who led KIPP Baltimore’s “Lighting the Path: The Campaign to Transform KIPP” capital campaign, which helped create new pre-K learning spaces, build the school’s first libraries, and address critical campus infrastructure needs to support joyful, sustainable learning environments. Great job, Eryn!

She’s the take-charge type who raises money with charm and compassion and is a terrific collaborator. Exhibit #1: an exchange from our second draft last November:

In the article, we talk about the overlap between Insiders, Influencers, Connectors, Closers, and Trailblazers. And how building expectations about volunteers’ roles in the campaign helps them feel a greater sense of fulfillment and belonging.

Check it out here and get your campaign off on the right foot!

I’m fully expecting a subset of New England-based Substack readers to inevitably call me to task for questioning Fred the Baker’s chops as a fundraising volunteer. “He shows up, Dan, ya stoopid bastid! What else ya want?” Sure…he shows up. Before dawn. Looking tired, overworked, and spiritually defeated. Clearly, his heart’s in it. But how’s his mental state, Pats fans? Look at your volunteer’s face below (not the donut he’s holding, again, without wearing gloves) and you tell me how he’s feeling as part of your campaign:

He’s the kind of volunteer Eryn and I suggest thinking carefully about.

He’s that volunteer who says yes, but should probably say no. You know the type and you love them. They’re the volunteers who are committed and some of your staunchest supporters. But they’re also the ones whose hearts tell them to say yes even when their heads tell them they should say no. Not because they don’t care, but because they don’t have the time, the capacity, or are already stretched too thin with other commitments. Here’s a snip from the article:

Our point throughout the article is that whether a volunteer is “right” or “wrong” for a campaign depends entirely on the expectations you build into the role. And how to preserve the feelings of belonging that keep them engaged with your organization and make them want to raise their hands to help you in the first place.

Thanks to Eryn for making the donuts with me on this article.

And to all of you for eating them.

Subscribe now

Fundraising for Breakfast is officially a lisping, snack-demanding, sticky-fingered, meltdown-prone toddler. This Substack just entered the Terrible Twos.

Instead of being exhausted by munchkins with zero self-restraint and 80% bladder control capacity, let’s ask what they can teach us about our fundraising!

Fair warning, you guys. I missed my nap. I feel a tantrum brewing.

Here’s who you’ve invited into your fundraising lives for the past two years:

What can this apple-cheeked firecracker teach you about fundraising? More than you think!:

1. Toddlers aren’t afraid to ask…again…and again…and again

   For the toddlers in my life (and probably yours), the first “no” is more like the opening salvo of an extended negotiation rather than a final answer. Whether it’s “Can I put this mudpie in the freezer?” or “Can you hold this booger for me?,” the answer is always “no.” But two-year-olds keep asking about it, don’t they? You should, too!

   

   
   Common sense tells us that nagging isn’t great fundraising strategy. But neither is giving up at the first sign of rejection. Being persistent and finding ways to keep ideas alive is the sign of a resilient fundraiser. And there might be a middle ground between you and your donor. It’s up to you to find it.

   
   So, no, I won’t hold your booger. But I will suggest you either put it back in your nose or you wipe it on your sibling. Be inspired!
   

2. Toddlers build relationships faster than anybody I know. Try it sometime!

   Toddlers form immediate ride-or-die relationships based on little more than a shared interest in, say, watching a pigeon eat a French fry on the street. One moment you’re strangers and the next you’re holding hands on the playground and stealing gross street fries from wildlife.

   

   
   Fundraising connections can happen fast, too. I once struck up a conversation with the husband of a former Board member at an event. At one point he turned to me and asked: “Hey, are you going to ask me for money?” I said, “Nah. I already asked your wife earlier.” His response? “Terrific!” We went back to talking about whatever and now we seek each other out at events. Not for money, but for genuine conversation over a drink and heavy hors d’oeuvres.
   

3. Toddlers’ excitement is contagious. Yours needs to be, too!

   Do yourself a favor, friend: get yourself invited to a two-year-old’s birthday party. Or go eat ice cream with a toddler. Or be in the room when a kid puts underpants on the dog. Provided they’re not on the verge of a crash out, toddlers give the best vibes. Their excitement is contagious.

   

   Interest, excitement, creativity, and playfulness is essential to good fundraising, right? I’m actually more prone to give to people than to causes. If those people are excited about something, I will be too. Enthusiasm gives donors permission to care loudly and unapologetically. I’m into it.

Thanks for helping me celebrate Fundraising for Breakfast’s birthday! And for reading, commenting, liking, subscribing, and sticking around.

Fundraising, like eating a blue birthday cake with your shirt off, is just a little more fun when it gets squished between your fingers, stuffed up your nose, smeared in your hair, and all over your face.

And when you’re doing it with friends.

Keep coming back! There’s more in store this year.

Subscribe now

Are you a spreadsheet-loving Capricorn cultivating new donors? A slightly chaotic Pisces soliciting gifts during Mercury retrograde? A spotlight-stealing Leo struggling to steward donors without letting your pride get in the way?

Does your Zodiac sign reveals something insightful about how you’re raising money?

Read on! And be prepared to get your chakras knocked off!

AQUARIUS (January 20-February18)
I am an Aquarius. Which means I’m an air sign associated with independence, unconventionality, and ingenuity. We find creative solutions to classic fundraising problems. For example, an Aquarius was the first to wrap a pledge form around a brick and throw it through somebody’s windshield. Charming (though temperamental) while raising money, we Aquarius are most measured (albeit childish) when Uranus is in retrograde.

PISCES (February 19-March 20)
Your classic Pisces is intuitive, emotional, and imaginative. Most of the time. When Neptune is prominent, Pisces forget their own and their donors’ names for a bit. But it never lasts long. Once Pisces gets their act together, they make good asks, write touching TY notes, and even sometimes remember to put it all in the database. Sometimes.

ARIES (March 21-April 19)
Action-packed, fearless, and impulsive. Aries likes to make big asks RIGHT NOW. When Mars is strong, Aries feed off each other like a pack of fundraising gym bros. Their fundraising is most effective when directed at Gemini or Libra, who neutralize that intense Aries heat.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20)
The most patient of Zodiac signs, Taurus believes in the long game. Gifts feel like foregone conclusions even though Taurus spends FoReVeR cultivating them. Taurus builds good donor relationships during waxing moons, even though it takes them a hundred years to do it. Sometimes Taurus fundraisers wait so long to make an ask that donors ask them if they can make a gift. Not kidding.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20)
Gemini is the creative type in your Development shop. They’re great at networking, connecting, and stewardship. When Mercury is direct, they’re witty and engaging in their donor engagement. When it’s not, they’re a soupy mess who need to be ladled off the floor. Every Gemini secretly aspires to be as much like Prince in their fundraising as they can. Which I support.

CANCER (June 21-July 22)
There has never been a donor’s birthday, wedding anniversary, or pet’s baptism that a Cancer fundraiser has forgotten. Nurturing—though overprotective—your Cancer fundraiser is also your fundraising Grandma. Cancers raise money with kindness and generosity, but they sometimes forget they’re fundraisers. Instead, they slip $20 bills into their donor’s hand and whisper-hiss: “It’s gas money. Don’t tell your mom.”

LEO (July 23-August 22)
Leos are dramatic, confident, and stubborn as hell. Your Leo fundraiser can sometimes forget that donors belong in the spotlight, not them. But no Development shop can operate without at least one chest-thumping Leo inspiring the gang to new heights. They ask with a confidence that’s contagious. They’re natural leaders of the pack. (My ice-cream scooping Child #2 is a Leo)

VIRGO (August 23-September 22)
Virgo’s Earth energy is a double-edged sword. They’re detail oriented but inclined toward perfectionism. Make no mistake: they’re the hardest grant writers in the game! They thrive when Mercury is strong, the data is clean, and every proposal has been read, and re-read, and read again. Conflict-averse and often achingly attractive, Virgos sometimes ask their Aquarius husbands (me) to start arguments with others when they don’t want to do it themselves.

LIBRA (September 23-October 22)
Skilled negotiators and people-pleasers, Libra is a natural charmer. Child #1 is a Libra and one of the delights of my life. Nevertheless, every Libra fundraiser I’ve ever met could break down one decision into many smaller, more confusing decisions. Should I send a handwritten TY note or an email? Blue or black ink? Stamp or machine? True facts: a Libra once asked me if his handwritten signature was “too arrogant.” The only fundraising negotiations Libras lose are with themselves, but they solicit with genuine heart.

SCORPIO (October 23-November 21)
Despite their water sign, Scorpios are the fundraising profession’s version of pyrotechnic roadies at a metal concert in the mid-1980s. Intense, explosive, and slightly terrifying, every donor in a Scorpio’s major gift portfolio is issued a Class B fire extinguisher as a precaution. Scorpio often needs Taurus to take the Zodiac fundraising wheel to prevent burnout.

SAGITTARIUS (November 22-December 21)
Have you ever met a fundraising Sagittarius who was so optimistic, enthusiastic, and positive that you immediately had to use the bathroom? (It’s the same sensation I feel whenever I walk into a Barnes & Noble). Sure, you want a Sagittarius leading any new campaign, but they’re prone to chasing squirrels. Their friends and neighbors on the Zodiac wheel are constantly worried they’re going to get hit by a car. Figuratively speaking.

CAPRICORN (December 22-Jan 19)
A Capricorn was the first to observe that people give to people. They’re disciplined and ambitious but a bit rigid. Never, ever, ever attempt to rob a bank with a Capricorn. It doesn’t end well. They know that long-term plays outlast short-term gains, which makes them good at raising money but bad at crime. Every Capricorn strives to be better than Timothee Chalamet, who hates giving to opera and ballet.

So there you have it: twelve signs, twelve different ways the stars reveal how you’re asking people for money.

“But Dan! How do I buck my sign’s trend? Can a Libra like me learn not to spiral? Or an Aquarius like you not to throw a brick?”

I suppose so, my sweet subscriber. But why would you want to?

Donors don’t give because you’ve somehow transcended your birth chart in defiance of the stars above. They give because you’re a slightly unhinged, deeply earnest human being trying your best to ask for money without making it weird. And mostly succeeding. Occasionally failing. But always doing it authentically to who you are.

Don’t fight the stars! Embrace them. And then go meet somebody with a different Zodiac sign and see if you can do something wonderful together. Like raise money for good causes.

Tell us in the Comments your Zodiac sign and how close I got!

Final Event Reminder! Join me online April 22 for a talk about fundraising and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice! Register here.

Subscribe now

Are you on the prowl for a nineteenth-century husband? Are you trying to raise the money that saves you from an uncertain future? Are you a character in a Jane Austen novel? Do you want to be?

On April 22 at 7pm (EST) I’ll be delivering a lecture titled “Courtship as Campaign: Charlotte Lucas’s Art of the Ask” that will answer the above questions and more. And you’re all invited! (“Lecture” feels a bit heavy. I have slides. And interesting things to say about fundraising in history. And a new way of reading Pride and Prejudice. Call it whatever you like.)

The event is hosted by the amazing people at Jane Austen & Co., an arm of The Jane Austen Collaborative: a nonprofit bringing together readers, scholars, and teachers to explore the life, works, and historical world of Jane Austen. It’s a volunteer-led public humanities initiative supported by the philanthropy of individual donors, institutions, and government agencies.

So, Dan, how can I raise money, bag a husband, and live my best life in Jane Austen’s nineteenth century? Join me on April 22 at 7pm to find out!

Register here!

For those of you who skipped my class when I actually taught this stuff, here’s what you need to know about Jane Austen at a glance:

My presentation will be based partially on an article I wrote that will be published this June in the journal, Persuasions. The presentation on April 22 (and the article) will ask what 18th- and 19^th-century charity campaigns, the marriage market as depicted in Austen’s novels, and fundraising for today’s Jane Austen legacy industry all have in common.

By and large, I’ll talk about how today’s fundraising is a product of Jane Austen’s England. We’ll step back into Georgian and Regency England to explore the rise of philanthropy and fundraising as we understand them today. This includes digging into the bonkers fundraising of younger sibling fundraiser Benjamin Franklin in revolutionary Philadelphia. You’ll also meet Thomas Coram, the man behind the fundraising of London’s Foundling Hospital in 1739—a place dedicated to providing women who became pregnant out of wedlock a safe place to give up their babies. Coram’s was the first fundraising campaign in history to utilize women fundraisers. Let’s talk about it!

Hit the registration button here so you can be there to check it out!

Get ready then to dive into Pride and Prejudice as you never have before! We’ll put the spotlight on Charlotte Lucas, one of Austen’s most divisive characters because she seeks out, encourages, and marries the ding-dong Mr. Collins.

Readers have never forgiven Charlotte for marrying Mr. Collins, but my presentation will have us think differently when we consider her more as a savvy fundraiser rather than a woman out a-courtin’. She raises money for herself at a time in history when women in her station had few other options other than marriage as a means of economic and social survival.

She’s patient, she’s a good listener, she knows what she wants, she knows what he needs, and she steers her would-be lover/donor to making an ask of himself that she can’t herself make. That sounds like a fundraiser to me!

Charlotte is both fundraiser and charity case rolled into one. We’ll uncover what she can teach us about raising money, landing a husband, and exploring how her “art of the ask” leads to a happier marriage with Mr. Collins than readers have ever given her credit for! Come learn what all of this means for the kind of fundraising that keeps the lights on for today’s vibrant Jane Austen heritage industry.

For over 200 years, people have either loved Charlotte Lucas for her boldness or hated her guts for marrying a ding-a-ling.

I think she does a lot right and deserves another look. So on April 22 at 7pm (EST), come for the fundraising perspective but stay for the fight I start in the comments section!

Here’s my final attempt to Betelgeuse you into joining me for this presentation. Join the fun!

Register here!

Subscribe now

Let’s translate birth order into development strategy: Who asks, who charms, and who thinks they’re going to get a gift because their parents never said no to them?

Oldest children: True Facts: Oldest children are all bossypants. They’re the self-appointed leaders of the pack who feel compelled to remind the rest of us the rules. They survived the creative parenting ideas mom and dad cooked up and lived to tell the tale. Yes, oldest siblings are bossy, but they ride the lightning because they are the thunder. (Nobody steal that saying. I just invented it!)

Oldest-child fundraisers are the take-charge types in any Development shop. They keep the fundraising trains running on time; they’re strategic, reassuring, process-oriented, and make the ask exactly when mom and dad tell them to. They raise money the same way they raised their younger siblings: with the undeniable conviction that if everyone would just do what they’re told, everything would go smoothly.

Middle children: As a middle child myself, I can testify that we’re the beating heart of the family. Wise, active, athletic, and endearing, middle children instinctively have their head on a swivel: keeping older siblings’ power grabs in check while stopping younger siblings from burning the house down. Middle children say the quiet part out loud: like which sibling was found in a dumpster and which one was adopted.

Middle child fundraisers are your natural coalition and relationship builders. It’s how we survived our childhoods! All we ask is for a bit of attention and recognition for our efforts. We read the room, start conversations, build relationships, write Emancipation Proclamations, discover radioactivity, lead Civil Rights movements, and make big asks to raise the money that changes the world. It’s just what we do!

Youngest children: Every cultural stereotype about youngest siblings is 100% accurate. They’re all slightly unhinged pot-stirring troublemakers to their core. A danger to themselves and others because their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were always cut on the diagonal with the crust removed. In some documented cases, youngest and eldest siblings have been known to form an unholy alliance against the middle sibling (which never ends well).

Youngest child fundraisers are important to have around, but they’re wild cards. They’re bold and adventurous to a fault because their parents were too tired to tell them no. They think donors won’t say no either which fuels their confidence. Every younger-sibling fundraiser has at one point secretly competed in the Skeleton at the Olympic Games. Donors tend to be charmed by younger-sibling fundraisers for their joie de vivre and utter lack of savoir faire.

SIDENOTE: The Mysterious Only-Child Fundraiser

Only-child fundraisers have spent their lives cultivating two major donors—their parents—while harboring more secrets than the Illuminati. They have all the get-up-and-go of an oldest sibling and all the neuroses of a youngest. They’re enigmatic, dynamic fundraisers. I know an only-child fundraiser who could plan and execute a second invasion of Normandy Beach like a well run capital campaign. And yet this same woman (who’s in her 30s, mind you) has a tattoo her parents still don’t know about. Donors don’t ask her questions anymore. They just hand over their wallets. It’s inspiring and terrifying.

Alas, there are sibling fundraisers I simply don’t have the space to explore. Twin fundraisers? Step-sibling fundraisers? Somebody fill in the blanks in the chat!

Whenever a fever of fundraisers (as with stingrays, a collective of fundraisers is known as a “fever”) work together for long enough, they start behaving like siblings. Which is way better than interacting like a bunch of Real Housewives.

It means that sometimes we bicker. And then one person rolls their eyes at someone else’s great idea and feelings get hurt. Right on cue, an oldest siblings among us will invariably make everybody hug it out, say something nice, and get us back to work.

It means that we share a lot: advice about donors and approaches to talking candidly about money. It also means hand-me-down baby clothes and toys swapped at the office and holiday recipes shared before meetings get going. It’s the kind of stuff that quietly builds connections on a fundraising team.

It also means working with somebody long enough to notice that every time she eats a banana, she breaks off the tip and throws it in the trash can next to my desk.

And then she tells me that spiders lay eggs on the tips of bananas. And if I don’t break it off too, I’m probably eating spider eggs.

And she’s super serious when she says it, so now I break off the tip of my banana, too. But why does she look so pleased with herself whenever I do it?

Is she messing with me? Yes? No? Have I been eating spider eggs my entire life? Should I stop eating bananas? Should you?

She’s got me spiraling! She’s just so immature and she makes me want to stomp up the stairs and slam my bedroom door and never speak to her ever ever ever again in my whole entire life and I’m not even kidding right now!

Such a typical youngest-child fundraiser! Somebody tell mom or I’m never coming out of my room!

Subscribe now

Distance with Danielle

The Runner's Etiquette Series: A Wrap-Up

Happy March everyone! After 10 months of unpacking all the nuances and unspoken (or spoken) rules of etiquette in running, we’re going to be wrapping up the series with a recap of the 10 topics we delved into…

Read more

6 months ago · 1 like · Danielle Buglino

I’ve never invited a donor to go on a run with me. (Can you imagine? Sucking wind alongside a donor while asking for a gift! Come clean in the Comments if you’ve done this!) I do, however invite people to coffee and lunch a lot. I wouldn’t say there’s an etiquette to it (beyond good table manners), but there’s definitely a few things I keep in mind.

Soup’s on, Substack. No slurping!

The exciting thing about lunch meetings is their trajectory is a bit more uncertain than regular meetings. I once solved all the world’s problems with a donor over a pitcher of Bloody Marys. A week later, I had a lunch meeting with somebody else who said she’d keep giving so long as I never invited her to lunch ever again.

Whenever I have lunch with a donor, I keep a couple considerations in mind. You might, too:

1. Table vs. booth: I like to arrive early and request a table rather than a booth. Especially when there’s more than two people. Tables are easier for group conversation.

   I once arrived 10 minutes early to a breakfast meeting to get a table, which would have been impressive if the others hadn’t arrived 15 minutes before that and settled into a booth. The donor slid in first, my colleague sat across from her, and then I squeezed in next to the donor.

   For the next hour I practically sat in the donor’s lap while she ate a Denver omelet. Every time we tried to make eye contact, we had to lean away from each other like a couple of near-sighted synchronized swimmers.
   

   

2. If what you’re ordering requires a bib, pick something else: Look, if you want to order the half-stack of ribs or the overstuffed burrito during a lunch meeting, go for it. But every time I eat ribs, I get a little in my hair and the best burritos tend to wind up down the front of my shirt.

   

   
   I generally won’t order the steak at a seafood restaurant and I don’t order something I have to eat with my hands. Get what you want, of course, but remember that lunch isn’t necessarily about the food. It’s about the connection.
   

3. If you’re going to talk money over lunch, make sure it’s clear in the invite: Unless I’ve telegraphed to the donor that the meeting is about a gift, I don’t want to talk about money. At all. I don’t want them to be surprised and then walk to their car afterwards thinking, “Well, that turned into an expensive lunch!”

   
   I did once have a donor who broached the topic of her gift and the entire conversation was derailed by a waiter who really, Really, REALLY wanted us to order dessert. He was just doing his job… at the worst time of the conversation for me.

I don’t know that I’d call any of this “etiquette” in the way Danielle treated it with respect to running. But her post that got me thinking along these lines is called “Running with Others & Sharing the Road” and it’s about really being a cooperative running partner. For me this is kind of like negotiating who’s picking up the tab. I tend to fall back on the line “I’ll get it this time and you get it next time.” It sets the expectation that there will be a “next time” and (I hope) gives us both something to look forward to.

So, when do these rules go out the window? When will you hear me say “I’ve heard the ribs here are incredible. Let’s get a half stack for the table and talk about adding a zero to your gift this year!”

You’ll hear me say it when I know somebody well enough that it’s time we create some new lunch rules together.

Which happened recently when I had lunch with a Board member. We’ve worked together for a couple of years on a number of projects and have developed a mutual trust and regard. He suggested lunch with me and a colleague at his go-to ramen spot near his office. I’m terrible with chopsticks. Terrible. But I didn’t think twice about it. The lunch was about the next big thing we were all working on together. It was an occasion to connect. Even if I slurped my ramen. He didn’t seem to care.

Now, someone out there invite me out to lunch in the Comments.

I know a good ramen place in Baltimore.

Subscribe now

At some point, TurboTax asks how many Olympic medals we won during the previous tax year that we’re deducting from our state taxes. I put my glasses on the end of my nose, shuffle through the 1040s, I90s, and charitable gift receipts piled around me, turn to my BOOK-IT! menace wife and ask in my most distracted way: “Darling…remind me…what was my Olympic medal count last tax year?” And then we laugh, laugh, laugh just like this:

Feel free to use this topical (and funny) joke during your own tax preparation this year! And because the Olympic spirit is coursing like fire through my veins after the men’s and women’s hockey gold-medal matches, I’m reasonably certain I can tell what kind of fundraiser you are based exclusively on your go-to Winter Olympics sport.

Read on to make your country—and your donors—proud.

So, what kind of fundraising Olympian are you?

1. Figure Skater: The workhorse of Olympic competitions, figure staking is known for its grace, elegance, and pageantry. Olympians are scored on a mystifying 0-10 scale evaluating skating skills, transitions, performance, composition, and interpretation. If you’re a figure-skating fundraiser, you balance technical proficiency with artistic expression. You’re the kind of fundraiser who moves seamlessly between strategy and story, turning careful preparation into moments that feel effortless and inspired. You’re comfortable when it’s just you and your donor out on the ice with everybody watching. (Bonus: These fundraisers know every line to The Cutting Edge, a movie with the kind of tension that makes Heated Rivalry feel like spin-the-bottle.)

   

2. Cross Country Skiing + Rifles (Biathlon): These Olympic competitors cross-country ski a loop (distance varies by race format), then unstrap a rifle from their back and get five shots at a target 50 yards away. A rare breed, the Biathlonic fundraiser excels at raising money by combining different things that shouldn’t work together, but do. You’re the kind of fundraiser who brings together the head and the heart, points them at a target half a football field away, and hits the target every time! Bullseye!

   

3. Skeleton: Easily the most terrifying sport at the Winter Olympics. Lunatics dive head first down a track on tiny fiberglass sleds going nearly 80 miles an hour. No breaks or steering wheel. A Skeletal fundraiser is rarely found in the wild. We generally don’t let them around donors unsupervised. They’re not reckless, per se, but they go headfirst into every cultivation and treat everything like all-or-nothing competitions. It’s harrowing to watch them, but so help me God, they’re closers.

   

4. Curling: Curlers are more my speed. Socially, athletically, and aesthetically. These competitive gentlefolk work in teams of four (including a lead, a second, a Vice-Skip, and Skip) and play an elaborate form of shuffleboard on ice. Curling fundraisers are strategic, cooperative, and tend to be found fundraising in groups of four. Never alone. They’re the most sociable breed of fundraiser. And sharp dressers to boot:

As the Winter Games come to a close, it’s worth remembering that the best Olympian fundraisers aren’t necessarily the flashiest or the most polished (even through those Norwegian curlers are killing it). They’re the ones who show up again and again:

Don’t stick the landing on a risky fundraising triple lutz? It happens. Run it again!

Miss a shot during Couples Biathlon that costs us a place on the podium and a tax deduction)? So be it. Reload and try again!

A donor tells you “no” and to get lost? It’s OK. Time to move upwards and onwards..

They’ve all trained themselves to get back on the fundraising ice and back on the phone dialing for dollars anyway. Resilience is the key.

So, what kind of Winter Olympics fundraiser am I?

On a bad day, I’m a Skeleton fundraiser. Going faster than I’m comfortable going and about to hurt myself and others. Somebody please come save me.

On a good day, I’m a cross between a figure skater and one of the sweepers on a curling team. Comfortable on my own but much preferring to be part of a well-dressed team.

On an even better day, I’m Jack Hughes. I get my fundraising front teeth knocked out of my face in a high pressure game, but still find a way to be part of the action because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Let’s hear what kind of fundraising Olympian you are in the comments!

Extra points if you can lose your teeth doing it.

Subscribe now

But this didn’t stop the amazing people at BOOK IT! from sending her a care package at Fundraising for Breakfast HQ. Check out the swag!

Pizza Hut is now the official pizza of Fundraising for Breakfast. And BOOK IT! now sits atop our “Charity of the Month” list I just invented. Thank you and congratulations!

In that same post, I asked you smart people for book recommendations that might help me think about my fundraising differently. My sister-in-law suggested Tits Up by Sarah Thornton. (Heads out of the gutters, you filthy animals! We have company visiting this week—our new friends at BOOK IT! and Pizza Hut are reading along!). It’s a smart, sensitive book that shares stories from people from all walks of life—dancers, mothers, plastic surgeons, fashion designers, and others—to better understand how people think about bodies.

The second chapter talked a lot about donating breastmilk—which I know very little about—so I thought it’d be an excellent opportunity to bring our “Why I Give” series into 2026 and for you to meet my other sister-in-law. She’s donated breast milk and is here to tell us why.

We’ll call her Sarah Connor. She was kind enough to take time away from fighting SkyNet and our collective apocalyptic future to talk about why she gives.

Here’s two recent pictures of my sister-in-law and a few things to know about her:

1. She has two beautiful children—a 3-year-old son and 9-month-old daughter. Both destined to one day save humanity from the very technology I used to generate the above two photos of their mother.

2. Sarah Connor is a special education teacher in the Midwest, supporting the social and emotional skills of students with different abilities. She is patient, kind, professional, and knows how to rock merch.

3. Her adult BOOK IT! reading list is expansive. She enjoys psychological thrillers, drama, romance, fantasy, and science fiction. Her favorite Pizza Hut personal pan pizza topping is pepperoni.

SIDEBAR:

The first milk bank in the United States opened in 1910 at the Boston Floating Hospital (now the Tufts Children’s Hospital). Milk banking in the US is governed by the Human Milk Banking Association of North American and accredits (currently) more than 30 nonprofit milk banks in North America.

Donating breastmilk to an accredited bank requires multiple steps. Donors answer a series of health questions, receive medical approval, pass a blood test and chest x-ray, and adhere to strict sanitation and storage requirements before shipping the milk to a bank.

The floor is yours, Sarah Connor: what’s the story behind your donated breastmilk? Why’d you give?

So, instead of donating to a milk bank, Sarah Connor leaned into what’s known as “milk sharing”—a person-to-person form of donation independent of a bank.

Sarah Connor’s milk-sharing story reminds us that generosity isn’t always public or financial. Sometimes it’s quiet, personal, and given even when resources feel scarce. Milk sharing shows that the most meaningful acts of giving often happen from compassion in the midst of already feeling stretched thin.

Because Sarah Connor is the last line of parental defense between us and a dystopian future, she gets the last word to all mothers, fundraisers, philanthropists, BOOK IT! aficionados, and Pizza Hunt personal pan pizza lovers out there:

The literal definition of philanthropist—from the Greek—is “lover of humanity.”

You don’t actually need money to be a lover of humanity. And, technically speaking, you don’t even need to do anything. You can simply love humanity. Quietly. All by yourself.

But if philanthropy is love made practical—love that shows up in transferable ways—then donating breast milk so others can feed their babies sounds an awful lot like philanthropy to me.

You’re a real one, Sarah Connor!

Thanks for reading this week.

Subscribe now

Halloween decorations come down November 1. Diwali lights go dark November 7 this year. Mardi Gras beads get stashed in the back of a closet on Ash Wednesday. And Christmas decorations? They make that solemn, undignified walk of shame back to the attic the morning of December 26. (I once suggested taking down decorations Christmas night and got tearfully shouted down by two children and a dog who’ve never once (NOT! ONCE!) helped put them away.)

I’m a self-deputized, post-holiday neighborhood watch of one. On duty day and night throughout all of January. Driving by your house, more disappointed than upset by what I see:

It’s January 20. Is your Christmas tree still up and you don’t know what to do with it? Below are a couple of the most interesting, creative ways to donate your tree to good causes. Doing so will (1) avoid the frigid effects of my silent judgement and (2) illustrate a favorite point around this corner of Substack that I want to explore more in 2026: the creative opportunities to ask and to give that are hiding in plain sight.

Fundraising for Breakfast is headquartered in Maryland—the jewel of the Mid-Atlantic region—and this map is where the administrators at Substack tell me you sweet people live and read:

I’m going to be very helpful and make suggestions centered around general geographic areas where you’re reading. Am I saying you should cross state lines to donate your Christmas tree? Maybe I am…

1. If you’re around the Philadelphia metro, don’t leave the tree to rot on the curb! Give it to a bunch of goats to eat at The Philly Goat Project. Apparently, goats love pine trees. The Philly Goat Project provides new and dynamic ways people can engage with nature, encourages visitors to explore the therapeutic possibilities found in nature, and fosters opportunities to connect with others. With goats. I’m sold!

   

   All disappointed Eagles fans are hereby implored to dust yourselves off, feed your used Christmas tree to a goat, and argue with the goats if Jalen Hurts is your long-term solution at quarterback. Report back on what they say.
   

2. Those living in the deep south/New Orleans holding on to dried out Christmas trees through Mardi Gras might consider donating them to the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana. Since 1989, the CRCL has spearheaded efforts to recycle used Christmas trees into marshes and other water ways to slow coastal erosion. Trapping sediment, slowing waves, and rebuilding underwater marsh platforms.

   

   Feel free to do unspeakable, shameful things during Mardi Gras with a clear conscious knowing that your tree is quietly fighting back the tide of coastal erosion! And when you’re done debauching yourself and come to your better senses, recycle your beads here, here, or here, to be reused again next year. Or just talk to Fundraising for Breakfast super-subscriber, Hopper. He’ll know what to do.

3. Lest my few (but dedicated!) international readers feel left out, I’ve got you covered, too. If you happen to be in the UK driving just west of Bristol with an old Christmas tree sticking out the boot of your very English Mini, swing by Noah’s Ark Zoo. They transform donated Christmas trees into art installations that then are doubly recycled into mulch and compost. Check it out!:

Kissing bears made of recycled Christmas trees is the kind of art I need in my life. That’s not a joke. Somebody bring this to the States!

Here’s a line that didn’t make it past the censors in my December post about the fundraising behind How the Grinch Stole Christmas in the 1960s: “Say what you will about the Grinch stealing Christmas…at least he took all crap down for the Whos!”

Harsh, I know. But I stand by the sentiment.

As this Substack continues to grow into 2026, I’m becoming more and more interested in ways of asking for money that don’t feel like asking. And ways of donating that sort of sneak up on you because they don’t feel like donations at all.

And I’m especially interested how this can create fundraising and philanthropy that is novel and unique. Are you a philanthropist by donating a Christmas tree to some goats in Philadelphia? The goats think so. And I kind of do, too. So stick around!

After all, sometimes the most powerful acts of giving—and asking—are like a Christmas tree that’s served as lunch for a goat, buried underwater as a tidal break in a marsh, or used to create art:

Subtle but surprising.

Unexpected yet clever.

And surprisingly effective.

Subscribe now

In addition to some jelly of the month memberships, below are books some of my fundraising colleagues found under the tree curtesy of the editorial staff here at Fundraising for Breakfast:

• There’s Nothing Like This: The Strategic Genius of Taylor Swift by Kevin Evers

• The Art of Spending Money: Simpler Choices for a Richer Life by Morgan Housel

• Ways and Means: Lincoln and His Cabinet and Financing the Civil War by Roger Lowenstein

But the best present I gave this year, however, was to my wife:

I went looking for a BOOK IT! button after a rare moment of dinner-table bravura when Wife claimed to have both piloted and broke the BOOK IT! program at the same time. That’s how hard she read as an elementary schooler in the 1980s.

Wife is still a voracious reader and, I don’t mind sharing, a very talented fundraiser. So, while I was a-bouncing on an imaginary diving board waving to no one in particular between December 26 and January 4, I asked myself: Is Wife such a good fundraiser because she grew up as a BOOK IT! menace?

My answer: “I think so. I must tell Substack!”

Wife’s Answer: “That feels like a stretch. Maybe find another topic?”

Let’s see who’s right.

Pizza Hut launched BOOK IT! in 1984 to promote regular and enthusiastic reading habits in elementary schoolers. Teachers set reading goals and when a student hit those marks, they’d get a button and a free personal pan pizza.

Readers of a certain generation will recall that going to Pizza Hut on a Friday night used to be a thing.

When they brought your personal pan pizza to the table it was so unmercifully hot you immediately burned your fingers and the roof of your mouth would be torn to shreds. You’d ask yourself “Was reading Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing worth burning off my finger prints and scorching my tongue?” And it was. Every time.

BOOK IT! is still wildly successful and reaches “14 million students across 37,000 schools annually” both during the school year and through special summer programs. That’s a lot of kids, books, buttons, and too-hot personal pan pizzas. Multiply that by 40 years and that’s a corporation’s investment in a single cause worth celebrating. I raise my red cup of Pepsi to the folks who make this program a success.

But did the BOOK IT! program make my wife a better fundraiser? Here’s the case I made to her:

• BOOK IT! is goal-oriented…and so is she!: Having realistic and achievable goals is essential for fundraising (as our friends over at MissionCraft: The Nonprofit Culture Lab recently posted about in a smart post here). Kids don’t keep reading (I think) because there’s food. They read because there’s a clear finish line and a satisfying “I did it” moment waiting on the other side. I still feel like that when I read a book or bring in a gift. So does Wife. So do most fundraisers I know, right?

• BOOK IT! fosters curiosity…she’s very curious!: Pizza Hut didn’t tell Wife what to read. It just encouraged her to pick up the next book and wonder about different stories. As a fundraiser, she’s comfortable experimenting, trying new approaches, new messages, new pitches. Between BOOK IT! (and the bold, entrepreneurial, door-knocking Kristy from The Babysitters Club), Wife learned what organization and ambition look like.

I’ll be honest: I didn’t convince Wife of the connection. Or myself. Or likely you. And this isn’t a pizza-flavored Substack hill I’m prepared to die on. Being goal-oriented and curious is important to lots of different careers and, obviously, an awful lot happened in Wife’s life between tearing through The Babysitters Club series, burning her tongue on too-hot pizza, and her career raising money for charity.

But I jumped at the connection between BOOK IT! and fundraising for the same reason I gifted those three books to colleagues from the opening of this post. There are interesting fundraising questions just under the surface of their titles that are worth looking into, even if it turns out to be a bust:

• Can Taylor Swift teach us something about fundraising strategy in There’s Nothing Like This: The Strategic Genius of Taylor Swift? If so, I want to hear what Swifties say about it. Even if the answer is no.

• Is Morgan Housel prepared to explain the difference to us between “spending” and “donating” in The Art of Spending Money: Simpler Choices for a Richer Life. Because I’d really like to better understand the difference in the minds of donors.

• Did the North out-fundraise the South to win the Civil War? Can Ways and Means: Lincoln and His Cabinet and Financing the Civil War shed light on this?

It’s the same impulse BOOK IT! rewards: read a little more, wonder a little longer, and see if it takes you to an interesting place. Fundraising is much the same: cultivating the habit of curiosity that makes people lean in, keep going, and eventually say yes.

If I could give each of you a slice of pizza for reading this week’s post, I would. Instead, if you give me a book recommendation that’ll make me think about my fundraising differently, I’ll likely read it and want to talk with you about it.

Pool side. Over pizza. With my undershirt tucked into my bathing suit.

*Pizza Hut, Inc. and its affiliated entities do not endorse, authorize, or sponsor this promise. This offer is not valid at any Pizza Hut^® location, regardless of how confidently the author makes such claims in the title of post-Christmas Substack posts.

Subscribe now

Before you settle in for your long winter’s nap, stay with me for some of the most inspired photoshopping you’ve seen at Fundraising for Breakfast all year!

So, who made the cut onto my Mount Rushmore of Christmas-movie fundraisers/philanthropists?

1. Mr. Duncan from Home Alone 2: Lost in New York

   An overlooked minor character in a money-grab of a sequel, Mr. Duncan operates an ornate toy store in NYC. He tells Kevin he wants to donate all his Christmas Eve proceeds to a local children’s hospital. Joe Peshi and Daniel Stern—recently escaped from prison—plan to rob the toy store, prompting Kevin to start smashing their faces with paint cans on a closed NYC construction site. (Best line of the movie: “Nice night for a neck injury!”) Yes, the entire third act of Home Alone 2 hinges on a minor character’s fundraising and philanthropy.

   

2. Scrooge from A Christmas Carol

   Two fundraisers wander in to the firm of Marley & Scrooge on Christmas Eve and get tossed out on their rear ends. After being put through a supernatural Christmas meat grinder, Scrooge later runs into one of the them and makes a sizable gift—probably a good tax move on his part since it’s the end of the year. Scrooge is a philanthropist (not technically a fundraiser) and a lot more fun when he was mean to fundraisers.
   

   

3. Donna Reed in It’s a Wonderful Life

   I don’t care who knows it—Donna Reed is my celebrity fundraising crush. This woman can do anything. She even hangs wallpaper by herself in It’s a Wonderful Life. Have you ever tried hanging wallpaper by yourself? Can’t be done. Plus, she’s an amazing fundraiser. In the last scene of the movie, she rallies all of Bedford Falls to donate money to help her husband, George, in a moment of crisis.
   

4. Ralphie Parker from A Christmas Story

   Donna Reed has four kids in It’s a Wonderful Life which takes place in post-war 1940s. A Christmas Story appears to take place in pre-war 1940s. I’m fairly certain Ralphie Parker is the secret lovechild between Donna Reed and a bowl of mashed potatoes. Ralphie won’t take no for an answer until he gets the gift he wants. He’s an inspiration to fundraisers everywhere!

I hereby present to all and sundry Fundraising for Breakfast’s official 2025 Mount Rushmore of Christmas-Movie Fundraisers:

Writing a post where I can take a picture of an ugly ol’mountain and photoshop faces on it. Faces of great Christmas-movie fundraisers who did so much to make the holidays super great. Well, that makes me, Dan Mangiavellano, proud that you read this Substack.

Happy holidays you filthy animals!

Subscribe now

While you’re busy consulting your conscience answering the above poll, consider this holiday fundraising question:

How does a 1966 TV adaptation about a misanthropic green jerk who hates Christmas, despises kids, and is a crappy dog owner (his biggest sin if you ask me) actually get the funding for production?

If your heart doesn’t grow three sizes over the next three minutes (or if you answered incorrectly above), then, I’m sad to report, we’re fighting.

Full confession: I’m still a bit drunk off the success of the “Gravy and Gratitude” post two weeks ago. Apparently, if you mention McCormick or Butterball in a public Substack post, somebody from one of their Marketing teams will see it and distribute it to a ton of people. So, thank you #McCormick and/or #Butterball! (But also: #Subaru #DunkinDonuts #JohnHamm #MarvelStudios and #GreenGiantVegetables)

Here’s some quick background about Dr. Seuss and How the Grinch Stole Christmas:

• His real name is Ted Geisel and he’s not a real doctor (other notable fake doctors: #DrPepper, #DrScholls, and #DrDre). But Geisel did have a California license plate that said “Grinch.” Clearly, he identified with his own crabby creation.

• How the Grinch Stole Christmas was originally published in November 1957, the same year as The Cat in the Hat. The two have sold millions of copies and been translated into dozens of languages. (Grinch has even been translated into Latin… which, I have it on good authority, is read aloud to legionnaires, centurions, charioteers, and Vestal Virgins in the Roman Coliseum every Christmas Eve. Somebody fact-check me in the Comments on that, though.)

• Dr. Seuss was talked into adapting the Grinch for TV by Chuck Jones (of Looney Toons fame). Geisel and Jones served together in the Army Corps of Communication together during World War 2. They reported up to famed movie director, Billy Wilder.

• How the Grinch Stole Christmas first aired on CBS on December 18, 1966 at 7pm. Which, apparently, was when kids normally tuned in to watch Lassie.

Seuss and Jones were responsible for pitching the idea of a green monster stealing Christmas to corporate sponsors. So, they shopped it to popular consumer brands. #GeneralMills, for instance, sponsored the Peanuts specials because, you know, it’s a kids show and kids nag their parents for #GeneralMills sugary cereals for breakfast.

But no consumer brand wanted a piece of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jones pitched 26 companies in total—including #Nestle and #Kellogg—but nobody would bite.

Eventually, they pitched the Foundation for Commercial Banks who agreed to finance the show. The irony of which was lost on nobody. Yes, a group of bankers put up the money for a show that featured the line, “Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store.”

See if you can find their plug for the Grinch (which gives the wrong date for when the show aired) in this fantastically confusing Foundation for Commercial Banks magazine ad from 1966:

I don’t have the slightest idea why a group of bankers financed this show. Maybe because Dr. Seuss and The Grinch were known quantities and not that risky an investment? A playful branding move, perhaps? Maybe somebody’s kid loved Dr. Seuss and they sensed an opportunity to introduce themselves to future customers? Who knows.

Though clever Who-fundraisers, both timid and bold,
Can learn a few tricks (or so I’ve been told!)
From Chuck Jones and Dr Seuss for a number of reasons,
To boost their Who-fundraising this holiday seasons!:

1. They were persistent in their solicitations: Jones and Seuss were told to get lost by 26 companies before somebody finally said yes. That’s a lot of rejection. It takes guts to keep asking when doors keep closing in your face.

2. They were creative about who they asked. The usual suspects—candy and cereal companies—weren’t interested. I have no idea how the Foundation for Commercial Banks wound up on the same list as, say, #Kellogg. But it did. And that creativity paid off!

3. They delivered on whatever they promised. They actually completed the show. And it aired. And people watched it. And sang along to it it. And loved it. The Foundation for Commercial Banks isn’t even mentioned in the end credits. (I looked). But nearly 70 years later we’re still watching and singing along with “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.”

So, here’s my message for all the fundraisers out there this holiday season.

If both Grinch’s and the Foundation for Commercial Banks’ heart can grow three sizes over the course of a 24-minute animated Christmas special, you’re ready to land that big donor you’ve been chasing all year! I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

Hey, #AmericanBankersAssociationFoundation! Thanks for bringing us the Grinch all those years ago and don’t forget to share with all your banking friends and subscribe for more free publicity in the new year!

Subscribe now

Some were curious why I didn’t talk about the other parts of the meal: the stuffing, the pie, but especially the gravy. (Quick answer: Because I didn’t think of it.)

Few Fundraising for Breakfast subscribers can speak with as much gravitas about Thanksgiving gravy (“gravy-tas?”) as my dear friend, Jen. One of her jobs when she worked at McCormick was to answer the Turkey hotline in moments of Thanksgiving crisis. In her own words:

Regrettably, Jen no longer fields gravy-related questions from the general public. But I do!

In the spirit of giving thanks, I asked 5 fundraising friends to share their secrets for thanking donors (since gratitude is the secret sauce of good fundraising. Get it?). I then quizzed them on their general gravy know-how.

Hopper—longtime New Orleans fundraiser; Jazz Fest enthusiast and Mardi Gras Krewe member supreme; the OG who gave Wife her first fundraising job way back in 2008:

“Hey Hopper! What’s your secret to expressing gratitude to your donors? Also, where does Thanksgiving gravy come from?”

I don’t know if there is one best practice, but sending a picture often works: pic of kids playing on a playground a donor underwrote; pic of the tree a donor sponsored; pic of a couple smooching on a bench the donor sponsored. Can you tell I worked at a park?

Where does Thanksgiving gravy come from? Hopefully not a can!

Maureen—Major Gifts Officer, 90s hip-hop expert, and co-author of article about MrBeast:

“Maureen—What’s your secret to expressing gratitude to your donors? Also—Help!—my gravy is as thin as the premise of this Substack post! Do I throw a temper-tantrum to distract from my watery gravy or can it be salvaged?”

Can’t help with the gravy—I buy mine from Wegmans!

But in terms of expressing gratitude to my donors, I try to make it as personal as possible. At this time of year, it’s ideally a snail-mail card with a brief handwritten note that references a specific program they support, their broader philanthropic interest, their family, their dog . . . something! Yes, it takes a lot of time. But it’s worth it.

Will—Gen Z fundraiser; unofficial Gettysburg College record-holder for the longest long snap in school history (22 yards); and this year’s winner of the Maryland Association of Fundraising Professionals, “Emerging Fundraising Professional” award:

“Will! What’s your secret to expressing gratitude to your donors? Also, you work at a nonprofit food bank...in 25 words or less, teach me how to make a Thanksgiving gravy. (No Googling!)”

I fundraise to help our food bank provide food and essential services to community organizations across Maryland, and I think genuinely showing people that you care and that you believe in the work you do is the best way to thank them. How do you make gravy? No idea! I just read from my grandmother’s recipe!

Martina—40+ year career in fundraising, marketing, and nonprofit operations; Corgi lover; pretends I don’t look like a total mess when she sees me at the gym; Thanksgiving hostess extraordinaire:

“Tell me, Martina…What’s your secret to expressing gratitude to donors? Also, I just tasted my Thanksgiving gravy. Gross! Talk me through a solution in 50 words or less or Thanksgiving’s canceled!”

…Really Dan??

Gravy and gratitude have a lot in common. Done right, both go down smoothly. The secret recipe? Start by caring about who you’re serving. Do they like creamy? Savory? Spicy? Next, the base can be the same, just adjust the ingredients to the person’s taste buds. So what if you have several different gravy boats at your donor Thanksgiving table?! You’ll be the one whose invitation to get more/give more is readily accepted! Thanksgiving is saved!

Caitlin—nonprofit data and mid-level fundraising maven; co-author of this and this article with me; fellow Turkey Trotter; has a cat named Kendrick Lamar who’s the hardest feline in the game:

“Caitlin! What’s your secret to expressing gratitude to your donors? Also, my Thanksgiving gravy tastes burnt and I’m already fighting with my wife about it. In 25 words or less, how can I save my gravy and my marriage?”

The key for me is thanking with joy. If I’m calling someone, I want them to hear my enthusiasm. My call center days burned “smile while you dial” into my brain. It makes a difference!

Also, I’m a potato purist – trash the gravy, you don’t need it. Problem solved. Marriage saved. Happy Thanksgiving!

I messaged the experts at the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line (great name…jealous I didn’t think of it first) at 1-800-BUTTERBALL with my questions about gravy and gratitude.

Below is an armpit-fart of a disappointing text exchange with a Butterball Chat-bot:

There you have it, Substack. Good fundraisers thank their donors by whisking them with broth and running them through a strainer. Just like mom used to do. I expected more from you, Butterball Turkey Talk-Line Chat bot!

I prefer the very good advice above from Hopper, Maureen, Will, Martina, and Caitlin.

Now go out there and thank somebody like you mean it, you turkeys. Gobble, gobble.

Subscribe now