Sometimes, the last thing I want to say is "No."
We're having a Sample Sale at work tomorrow morning. Before I started working here, the proceeds from the sale went right back to the company and paid for miscellaneous department expenses. (It was a good way to make sure we, as a department, remained within budget.)
Anyway, the next time we had a Sample Sale, I asked the department head if we could donate a portion of the proceeds to the American Heart Association in sponsorship of our team at the Orlando Heart Walk. That was in 2007, and since then, we've agreed that at least one sale's proceeds would go towards what has become our department philanthropic event. And so 15% of what we collect at every sale goes towards a charity; the remaining 85% covers department expenses.
Earlier this year, our department head approached me, suggesting we support Coventant House with our first Sample Sale. I spearheaded a jeans drive to coincide with the sale, and we raised $1000 in cash (the most we've ever raised) and an additional $3000 worth of clothing. The initial plan was to have a sale each quarter, but this has been an exceptionally busy year for us (a poor economy means more work for me as an analyst) and we didn't get around to a second sale until now.
When the flyer went out, I noted that a portion of the proceeds would sponsor our company's team at the Orlando Heart Walk. Afterwards, I received an e-mail asking if we could also donate some money to the Pink Dragonboat Racing Team, which would benefit breast cancer research. (Never mind that the company as a whole donates several hundred thousand dollars to various breast cancer foundations each year.) I responded with a non-committal, "Not this time, but maybe next time if we have another sale before the race."
Just now, one of the directors was approached by one of the maintenance crew who knows a family with a handicapped child in need of an operation, and the family does not have insurance, nor a way to pay for the operation. Heart-wrenching, no? I ultimately sent him to the department head who said we couldn't help because this isn't a registered charitable organization (or an employee in need) and we, as a company, don't randomly hand out money to people. (There is an employee fund, though, to which we've contributed in the past.) The director had already referred him to St. Vincent de Paul, an organization that specializes in cases like that.
As awful as this is going to sound, I think it's incredibly ballsy to approach someone for money like that, even if it is for someone in need. There are sob stories everywhere I turn. A good friend was just unexpectedly laid off earlier this week and has been nursing horrible dental pain for several months, a coworker's self-employed husband has had no clients for the past 3 months (and they're starting to default on loans), another good friend (who is a single mom) has taken her son to the hospital more times in the last three months than I have been in my entire life and has had her hours at work slashed by more than half, and the stories go on. Everyone's life has static, and there aren't a whole lot of people feeling particularly flush these days.
And so, I have to be selfish and heartless and say, "No, I'm sorry, we can't help your cause."
No matter how much I can logically justify my decisions, I still feel really bad.
