About three times a week, one of us in the house ventures forth to bring home the mail. It is usually a disappointment: pizza coupons, MP’s newsletter of self-congratulation, occasionally a cheque, seldom a letter, and regularly, the books I’ve ordered.
Thus, it was somewhat of a surprise one day recently when the mail included a large envelope in my name, coming from an agency of respect and renowned for helping in emergencies and with other life events. The outside of the envelope indicated the enclosures were an opportunity for me to triple the impact of my anticipated financial donation. Deadline: Aug. 26, 2025.
This is not the first time various organizations of note have sent a variety of incentives to encourage this household to support their causes. One agency sends a brand new nickel at least once a year. Another provides return address labels based on the seasons, and each Christmas, an organization provides a useful package of seasonal greeting cards.
I have often wondered why such agencies spend money on these items when that money could be put to better use doing the work they do or searching for cures for specific diseases. Housemate assures me there must be a financial gain, or so many organizations would not use the method to obtain donations.
I made this same declaration regarding this most recent solicitation. Then I slit open the envelope and removed the contents. “Wow,” I thought to myself when I saw the “gifts.”
They included: one red permanent marker, one black permanent marker, a ballpoint pen bearing my name (spelled correctly), a purse-sized manicure set with a sharp-looking pair of scissors, and a similar-sized tissue holder, including tissues. “Wow again.”
Is it possible that my financial contribution had just been bought?
After reading the accompanying solicitation letter, I learned the organization has a partner that has promised a triple return for each $35 donation. In other words, every $35 will become $105. The cap on the triple effect sponsorship will be $96,829.40. Larger donations are also welcome and coupons on various values were found in the envelope — along with a pre-addressed, postage-paid return envelope.
The marketing plan covered all the bases, including a reminder of the excellent work the organization does to help anyone in distressing situations.
So, with cheque book in hand, I acknowledged that without the material incentives, I likely wouldn’t have read all the printed enclosures and would not have donated to the cause.
Should I be thinking: “shame on me for being so crassly hooked by some pens, tissues and manicure tools?”
I think the postage-paid stamped return envelope was the clincher.
Joyce Walter can be reached at [email protected]
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
