Don't Wager With My Gift: It Hurts My Feelings

I found a recent story puzzling first because I am admittedly ignorant of the subtle vagaries of the stock market and second because I found myself reacting emotionally to something that on the surface was purely abstract. Namely, a wager placed by Warren Buffet that would ultimately benefit the non-profit sector with a $1 million donation. Not that I would personally sneeze at $1 million, but the problem is that Mr. Buffet could easily wipe his nose at it, given his billions, and so would his opposite, a major hedge fund. The subject of the wager? Whether the fees paid to fund managers outweigh the benefits of investing with them and all their expertise. Buffet says you might as well just read the market indicators and bet with your head. The hedge fund managers claim that their extraordinary grasp of analytical tools makes an investment with them much more likely to result in profit.

Wagers placed, meet back here in 10 years and we'll see who wins, the pot to go to the charity of the winners' choice.

You may need to explain to me why this is okay, because I am, as a hard-working member of the non-profit sector, offended that my causes are a cliche. "To the charity of your choice, indeed." Just give the money to charity and bet with mumbly peg. Not as spicy? Not as newsworthy?

I understand cause marketing, but I want to establish here and now that there is an element of condescension in every donation, gift or grant, that the benefactor would do well to dispel, somehow. Not that I mind leftovers, not when I’m starving out here looking for ways to help the homeless, ease the distress of AIDS orphans, or bring disabled kids into the classroom.

I will conclude this brief announcement by noting that in this relativistic world, the hard working, blisteringly bright, Mr. Rick Wagoner, CEO of GM made $15.7 million in 2007, up 64% while his company posted a $39 billion loss, closed four plants, and saw its stock price fall by 19%. Nice work, Mr. Wagoner. By the way, how much are you giving to charity? 5%? Not enough. It had better be at least a million.

Brilliant: Communication Between Grantmaker and Grantwriter

At times something really good comes out of the interaction of foundations and grantseekers. Sometimes the dialog emerges strong and meaningful from the hierarchy of those who have and those who need. In this case it is the Duke Endowment sponsoring a luncheon presentation by Hal Williams. Williams is a commanding speaker, idiosyncratic, funny, a little didactic, but always informative (a term he would probably dislike). For a grantmaker, this DVD is exciting and worth at least a couple of viewings. It is a huge foundation addressing the needs of their grantseekers for clarity and meaning in the grants process. See Charity L. Perkins (cperkins@tde.org) for a copy of The Duke Endowment Focus on Results Grantee Workshop, January 2008.

Pubic speaking is not easy

I had created what I thought would fill 30 minutes. I showed up at the Funding Summit at Shoreline Conference Center on June 10th and 12:30 pm. I found my co-presenter, and we sat like two people who have little in common, talking with little to say, to the point of exhaustion, and then we went to the Rainier Room (does every conference center and hotel have a Rainier Room – I guess they have to) to see the set up and watch the audience walk in. I had vowed to follow the actor’s advice to love the audience and let them love me, so I observed as the women and men, mostly women, came in, tired and a little desultory. The time came to speak and the third workshop presenter was not there. We went on without her. I spoke and at first felt uneasy, but I told myself that they loved me. I continued, they loved me. My topic was the use of certain creative thinking or free-thinking devices might be of value when people deal with mission statements and other artifices. I had to stretch it at times, but I thought it was a good topic. I quickly moved into the murky area of deductive (analytic) to inductive (synthetic) reasoning, and I felt that I was losing their attention, so I quickly shifted my discussion to the techniques I’d brought with me, mostly from writing and dance. These techniques, particularly clustering, would, in my opinion, allow the proposal writer (and others) to expand their vision and vocabulary simply by playing with the words in their mission statements. I felt so alone. I made an attempt at interaction with a flip chart, but they chose “Mexican Food” (the offering at lunch) and the relationships were not fast in coming. Finally a woman in the back said “red” and I said “I love it,” but that was the end. I spoke on about the coin game and scratching, but I felt my grip on them slipping away, and quickly. A man in the back row, with a lap top opened in front of him, raised his hand. “We’ve been going for 45 minutes, are we going to hear something about sources of funding?” I was shocked that I had gone 45 minutes already. I thought it had been more than 20. I apologized and quickly finished with a statement about how they might enjoy using the techniques I’d shown them, but there were no questions.