It started with an anecdote...

I had this crazy boss many years ago who wouldn't allow me to lick envelopes. Instead, she'd have me seal them with a piece of Scotch tape. When I left that job in favor of working at the co-ops, Bets didn't want us licking envelopes either, and instead had us use one of those little squirty-things which we called "the licker."

My boss now does everything slowly because she is old. And because she is in excruciating pain.

Every job I've had has involved demanding money from people in one way or another. At the co-ops, it was rent. At my last job, it was the exorbitant hourly rates of retired judges. At all those retail jobs, duh. But at this job I have now, for the first time, I'm asking people for money they don't owe, and that is very strange. Nonprofits are wise to look for people with development experience, because it's certainly an art form, this whole business of asking for money. Not to say that I've mastered it, at all.

I've been calling around to various hotels and restaurants, asking if they'll send me gift certificates that we can sell for lots of money at our golf tournament. Now, Zdank compared this to the cold-calling he used to do for CalPIRG (or whichever pseudo-hippy org' it was), but I don't feel like I'm asking for money from people; I'm asking for gifts from businesses. And everyone know it's good business to look philanthropic. Who knows, maybe they'll get some repeat business out of it? Right? Sigh, it still feels weird.

I've also been working on grant proposals and obsessing over how to carefully word my requests for thousands and thousands of dollars. I mean, these are organizations that are like, "Hey! We've got money to give away! Come and get it! Ahem, but you have to follow these extensive guidelines, ahem." OK, so I'm making sure to check all off all the bullet points and blah blah, and rewriting, rewriting, rewriting...I feel like I'm in college again, like I'm about to pull an all-nighter on this paper, and it's still going to turn out crappy in the morning. And I still feel weird about asking for money. Well, not as much, especially when it's, say, Wells Fargo who's offering. For example.

The weirdest might be the way that little old ladies faithfully donate ten dollars a month to us, and we send them a form thank you letter and another donation envelope. And at our fundraiser dinner thing for which our guests paid $100 per plate, we scattered donation envelopes on the tables. And at the end of the year, we send out a letter to each of our donors, telling them a few heart-wrenching or inspiring stories about the children. With a donation envelope. I mean, I guess it's what you've got to do, but, you know, still weird. To me.