Are the days of always buying a candy bar over?

 

I have this belief. It’s based upon kids selling candy bars and cookies door to door around the neighborhood. When there’s a kid at your door, selling something for school, break out the wallet and hand them a few dollars. It’s being kind to them, good karma for you, and makes the community a better place.

The belief is simple.

It was built on all sorts of people closing doors in my face when I was asked to walk around and sell things for school or athletic leagues.

It was built on opening our door to see kids from the neighborhood asking if I wanted to buy this-or-that. Good kids, good parents, good neighbors.

Support is an important thing, in more ways than we have time to discuss. But the world has changed in more ways than I could have ever imagined.

School and league fundraising has reached an unreal level. This is no longer about having a five-dollar bill in your wallet and giving it to the kid down the road that is trying to support his baseball team. Suddenly, it’s logging on to a web site that accepts your credit card and suggests a minimum of a $50 contribution. It’s become a massive, research and statistics driven, money-seeking machine.

I remember when selling enough boxes of candy earned you a school sweatshirt. And we thought that we pretty cool. Not today.

I was talking to someone recently that couldn’t believe the nerve of an old friend of his family. When he said old friend, he meant the old part and did consider him a friend. This was also someone that had moved more than a generation ago. Hadn’t seen him in person in decades. The two of them still orbited each other however, with other friends and family that interacted on occasion.

Facebook and phone numbers and e-mail addresses were known. Just no direct contact in a long, long time.

An e-mail arrived unexpectedly. While from this old family friend’s address, it was his son that was sending the message. It was a classic insert-this-text-when-you-send-it cut and paste fundraising message for a school sports team. Asked for donations and used a link to send him to a web site. Once there, he was treated to all sorts of things that his donation could do along with celebrations of those that had contributed several hundred dollars.

(Not kidding. Apparently the web site not only mentioned $500 and $250 donations, it included them with names of the people that had made large donations, and formed it’s check here for your preferred donation amount chart with a suggested bottom level of $50.)

This wasn’t a kid selling cookie dough or holiday pies at the door for a school down the street. This was a kid asking for donations from across multiple state lines. And the kid wasn’t doing it with a phone call or investment of quality time. It was being done over a slickly produced web site and no direct contact.

And what ticked off the person I knew even more was that he poked around a bit. The company running the donation web site wasn’t involved with the school at all. In fact, it was from a completely different state several time zones away.

To summarize, and using states that aren’t really involved…

A guy I know was approached by a kid he’s never met that is the son of someone he considers a friend buy hasn’t seen in person in literally more than twenty years. The guy I know lives in Pennsylvania, and the kid lives in Tennessee. The kid would like him to support him by processing a donation at a web site that is run in Washington.

I remember being a kid and hating fundraising duty. I didn’t like car washes or bake sales. I didn’t like knocking on doors. I didn’t like talking to folks about giving me money for candy bars and personalized beverage cups.

And I remember folks catching me at work. When it was for folks I knew well, I understood and did what I could. Didn’t love it, and followed company guidelines on soliciting and more (admittedly while rolling my eyes when the company-sponsored but not the same thing form letters were sent around offering payroll deductions).

But I do understand the lessons available to kids, and remember the things I learned from some of the experiences. And I do remember the surprises and personal contact involved. I remember a few neighbors that I got to know a bit better, with some friendly waves and acknowledgements that followed a candy sale encounter.

Apparently, those days are gone. Blind e-mail blasts have changed the game. Access to contact lists have made everyone accessible, regardless of the desire to be contacted. And it’s not even delivered with good intentions or the request of a favor.

I don’t mind friends calling up and asking for help. I’ll try to buy cookies and wrapping paper and more to support the loved ones of those I know. Happy to do it. And, if I can, I’ll even respond to a personalized text message or e-mail that explains what’s going on. No problems with any of that.

But when someone clicks send and let’s technology do the rest, asking for cash with all sorts of other red flags waving in the breeze, it’s a bit frustrating.

Oh the joys of the shrinking world and improved technology. Making life less personal and more inconsiderate each and every day.

 

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at Bob@inmybackpack.com