Nobody likes to tell people “no”

Hearing “no” is a given in support-raising, and some of the time I would rather hear it more often.

Now that you think I’m crazy, let me explain. On some occasions I begin to wonder if people aren’t being euphemistic. I can’t know for certain, and you have to give people the benefit of the doubt.

But it still felt like people were telling us they would think and pray about supporting us when they really meant, “No, we don’t want to support you financially.” We would also give the people the option, at the appointments, to defer for a time. I would then mark them as an “ask in future,” and get back to them in a year or so.

But their answers didn’t change.

People don’t like telling other people no. Dan Dewald, according to his MySpace website, doesn’t like telling people “no.” Lawmakers don’t like telling people “no” according to John O’Conner for the Peoria Journal Star. The keeper of the blog My Life as a Mommy X 3 doesn’t like to tell people “no.”

But I would much, much rather hear “no” than be strung along.

I don’t really like sharing this, because some of my friends made me feel like this at times, as though they were stringing us along. And like I already mentioned, we can’t know for certain and I have to give a person the benefit of the doubt. Then why, you ask, share I this?

Because I hope that the person reading this will be better prepared for the fundraising process because of my sharing.

Phone is always busy

We had been on a few successful Green Gateau tete-a-tetes by the time I got around to calling the widow. The first funeral I ever attended was that of her husband. I’ve only been to two funerals in my whole life, and I didn’t know either of the people.

She was in my wife’s extended family. I was probably introduced to her at the funeral — which was more like a family reunion with an open casket than a funeral, to me who had never been to a funeral — but we didn’t know each other. My wife didn’t know her that well either.

I tried to call once or twice and left a message. I have since then learned not to leave messages, or at least certainly not to rely on people to return messages. After not hearing back from her, I called again and we set up a time and place to get together.

As that time neared, I became sick, and was not feeling up to going out and seeing people. So I tried to call and reschedule the appointment. The line was busy. I tried again and again, and the line was still busy. Always busy. I became somewhat concerned. I didn’t want her to show up and us not be there; that would make for a bad impression.

It came to the point where I called another of my wife’s relatives in town to see if they knew anything. We were a little worried for the widow’s health at this point in time.

We learned , however, that she had recently signed up for the internet; this was back when people at home used dial-up. Cable and DSL were much more elite options then. Always busy.

We were never able to reschedule the meeting.

The first phone call

One of my very first phone calls to set up an ask resulted in a tactical boo-boo.

We had been instructed at Boot Camp to create a mailing list with as many people as possible. People from the present, people from the past, friends, family, enemies and referrals. Steve wanted our list of potential donors to contain at least 400 names. He told us if we didn’t have 400 names, maybe we weren’t meant to be missionaries.

We had a list of around 300 at that time. It is up to 450 now, and that doesn’t include another 50 or so churches. I started by calling people who lived nearby; I called a guy from church who I got along with OK, although I didn’t know him all that well.

The tactical error occurred when his wife answered the phone. I’d never met his wife, and she had no idea who I was. The conversation was awkward (in part because it was one of my very first) and ended without getting a meeting. We learned at boot camp the goal of “the phone call” was to schedule a tete-a-tete — even if people told us they didn’t want to give us money, we were still supposed to get the appointment. The vision of the ministry and our passion was supposed to sell them.

I learned from this flustered phone call to always ask for the person in the household that you know!