Another Thing About Why Peer-to-Peer Fundraising Is So Powerful…

This summer, I (Katrina) was in New York City, seeing clients and people whom I hoped would become clients. I was by myself, in between an afternoon meeting and a late evening meeting, looking for something to do. So, I did what people do in New York. I walked. And I walked. And I walked some more.

On the return to my hotel, I went past Penn Station. There was what looked to be a person who was homeless, asking for money and food. I couldn’t help but notice that she looked like she had Down syndrome. My heart stopped. I have a child with Down syndrome. What if she were on the streets? Who would help her? How would she survive?

So, I sprang into action. I had no money on me, having left everything except for my key and one credit card in my room. I turned, rushed to my hotel, up the elevator and into my room. I gathered cash, that apple I hadn’t eaten and the chocolate that was now on my pillow. I went back downstairs and bought a bagel and a bottle of water. I put it all in a paper bag and went seeking the person I so wanted to help.

She was gone.

I was bereft. I wanted to know her. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to know where she would sleep that night. And, I wanted to feel good –– which helping others almost always makes me feel.

So, now I’m standing on the street with this bag of cash and food and a big cold hole in my chest where I had planned to put a warm feeling. But I knew I could still get that warm glow, even if I couldn’t help the woman I’d hoped to. There were usually lots of people asking for help around Penn Station. I started walking, looking for someone to help.

The first guy I approached was sitting against a concrete wall. As I made eye contact and walked directly toward him, he got up and trotted off.

I kept walking. The second person I tried to help didn’t see me coming, which I think is why she didn’t walk off. But when I addressed her, she immediately cut me off and said, “I don’t want that. I don’t want that. I don’t want that.”

I kept walking. The next person I saw did not move when he saw me coming, nor did he move when I spoke to him. But he wouldn’t speak to me, nor would he take my bag o’ goodies when I offered it.

At this point, I knew I was experiencing a thing, a blog-worthy thing. I had a bit of an epiphany. Here’s what it was:

I was out of context for these folks. They were supposed to be asking me, not me asking them. They were suspicious of my motives, and that made them afraid. I thought to myself, “Is this what direct response feels like when we don’t put ourselves in context? Is this why only one in 2,800 gives a gift when solicited via a blast email campaign? Am I doing non-segmented, non-personalized outreach right now? Am I going in without a welcome series?”

To test my theory, here is what I tried next (I walked around the corner so that my test would be unsullied by my previous attempts). I walked by another person sitting with all their plastic bags around them, and he asked me for money. I said, “I don’t have any money, but someone just gave me this bag of food that I don’t need. You can have it.” His face brightened. He took the bag and thanked me profusely. I walked off. It was a typical exchange I might have with someone asking for money in New York City.

This “giver-of-good-feelings” — my new friend in need — required the correct frame of reference. After many misfires, I gave this gentleman one he could understand and, more importantly, one he could trust.

This experience made me reflect on the power of peer-to-peer fundraising. When a donor gives because a friend asks, the friend establishes the context, creates a frame of reference and conquers distrust in one fell swoop. This is the power of peer-to-peer fundraising. And it’s also an illustration of what we have to overcome in direct response in general.