My First Time

My first time was pretty terrible.  I felt pressured, confused, and coerced.  There was no emotion, just a desire to get it over with.  After, I never talked about it, never felt good about it.  It definitely didn't turn into a long-lasting relationship.  It's amazing I ever did it again.

Giving, that is. 

My first, real philanthropic memory isn't the picture perfect story that naturally leads to a lifelong career in fundraising—and yet, as I think about it, it did ignite my passion for inspiring a different kind of philanthropy today. 

It was 1994 and I had just graduated from college.  I was starting my first "real" job, turning my Economics major into a very handsome paycheck at a large private consulting firm in a vibrant city. I was forging my own path right into big business – away from the academic/teaching traditions of my family.

After a few days of orientation, locating my shared desk in a maze of cubicles, memorizing my voicemail passcode, and trying to find comfort in wearing a pair of nylons and a middle-aged skirt suit everyday, I remember one of my senior mentors handing me a stack of paperwork.  "It's time for our annual 'Combined' Fund Drive," he told me.  "Our office always leads the firm." 

Young and eager, I was interested to learn more about a Fund Drive.  My family was undoubtedly philanthropic, but it wasn't a topic we discussed regularly at the dinner table.  We didn't go to auctions and galas, and I admit I only vaguely knew what a "combined" fund was (it is an effort to "pool" funds raised and then distribute them to nonprofits within a community). 

About 90 seconds into his "pitch," the conversation took a turn.

He made it clear that I would need to participate in this campaign – it was expected.  Everyone in the office did it.  Our Partners cared about raising the most within the firm and therefore we all joined in.  I remember being told that it would be "painless," that the accounting department would just take a bit out of each of my paychecks and "I'd never even know." 

Somewhere within I knew this wasn't how giving should feel.  But, by Friday, I caved.  I did it like everyone else. I filled out my form, added my dollars to the thermometer charting our office's "win" over the Dallas branch, and wham, bam, thank you ma'am, I was a donor. 

Years later, after I had left that culture for the relative safety and familiarity of graduate school, I found myself re-claiming my first time giving.  Armed with a much smaller bank account, I experienced the joy of writing my own check directly to a nonprofit I had discovered that spoke to my soul.  No pressure, no one saying I had to because someone else was expecting me to.  My donation was infinitely smaller than whatever amount I had actually given through my "you'll never notice it" payroll deduction, but I felt it -- a sense of pride and empowerment at adding my individual voice to a cause I cared about. I had found the real power of giving.

Today I recognize that part of my drive to start a movement for philanthropos tropos is rooted in a desire to ensure that others have better first times.  In an era of high pressure telemarketing, too many gifts that go un-thanked, and a far too common feeling that giving is just something you do instead of an expression of what you value, I fear too many of us have dissatisfying first times -- and that's why we've been stuck at a national giving rate of about 1-2% of GDP for so long.  I was philanthropically lucky – I ultimately found a way of giving that was everything it should be.  What if we could ensure everyone had a great first time giving?  I can't help but think that could be the start of a real giving revolution.

What's your first time story? How has it affected your feelings about philanthropy? (Maybe this is my first book idea!)  Do you agree that if we could provide more good first times, we could ultimately inspire more giving?