‘Stop guilt tripping me into donating money.’
On the weekend, I nearly lost my absolute shit at a lady… because she asked me to donate money to the Cancer Council.
BEFORE you all throw cyber-rabies in my direction, let me explain.
I did Relay For Life on Saturday/Sunday with a group of friends. We’ve done it a couple of times now. To participate in the relay, you donate money to join a team, get donations from family and friends, and then walk for 24 hours around an athletics track. It’s not easy, and you battle the temptation to amputate your own toes, but holy shizballs it’s rewarding.
Anywaaaay it was 4am and I was at the level of sleep deprivation where you start asking questions like “Are people born psychopaths, or do they become psychopaths?” and “What is the purpose of earlobes?” when Charity Lady approached me and my friends clutching a tub of bouncy balls.
Bouncy Ball Charity Lady: “Would you like to help fight cancer? They’re $10 each.”
Sleep Deprived Michelle: “Sorry, I don’t have any money on me!”
Bouncy Ball Charity Lady: “Oh… so… you don’t want to donate?”
Sleep Deprived and now Incensed Michelle: *Internal monologue* U wat m8? WHY THE EFF DO YOU THINK I’M HERE AT 4 IN THE EFFING MORNING HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS ABOUT EARLOBES?
You guys, it took every fibre of my being to not snatch a bouncy ball and ping it at her judgmental/charitable head.
Being guilt-tripped into donating to charity is not only effing annoying, it’s really unfair.
Why yes, Cotton On employees who look at me with eyes full of disgust everytime I reject a $1 bottle of water, I’m looking at Y-O-U.
I hate the guilt trip I’m catapulted down everytime I choose to not donate money to an organisation. I hate being made to feel like a heartless, Soul-Destroying-Life-Sucking-Wench every time I say ‘no’ to buying a $15 ribbon.
The trail of disgrace charity workers send you down EFFING SUCKS. They make walking through a shopping centre as uncomfortable as running down stairs without a bra.
So, on behalf of all people who feel uncomfortable every time they are approached by pushy charity workers, I have a few things to say:
To the attractive English boys working for Special Olympics/Paralympics charities:
Okay, first of all, please don’t play with my lady weaknesses. You and I both know that as soon as you open your mouth and the delightful octaves of your British accent fill the air, my ovaries explode and my wallet opens. You and I also both know that you only got this job because you have a good head of hair and look like you should be in a Calvin Klein window.
BONUS FUN FACT! When I was 18, I donated $40 to the Paralympics because I thought the charity boy was hot. OH – did I mention that $40 was the sum total of my bank account at the time? Why yes, yes I did go bankrupt in the faint hope that charity boy would think I’m Mother Theresa and ask me out.
… He did not ask me out.
To the World Vision people in the middle of shopping centres:
If I don’t stop to talk to you, please don’t think that’s a valid reason to stalk me down the walkway. If I wanted to talk to you, you would know, and I wouldn’t be pretending to be on an important phonecall right now.
Wanna know why I don’t want to talk to you? Maybe because the last time I stopped, you didn’t let me leave for 30 minutes. You insisted that I hand over my details then and there, instead of giving me a pamphlet or a website address so I could mull it over and do some research. I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and assume you World Vision guys make commission from your sales, because you hunt shoppers down like lions feasting on freaking gazelles.
Also, don’t be a dick and ask “Well, how much did you just spend on your lunch?” or “What did that stuff from General Pants cost you?”. Not cool, pal. Not cool at all.
You can take a walk, m8.
To the door-to-door salespeople who are probably the worst of the lot:
I totally didn’t know you guys still existed. I thought you were like the iPod Shuffles of charity workers or something. That was until last month, when one of you rocked up on my doorstep AND DIDN’T LEAVE FOR AN HOUR.
The chick didn’t even accept my offer of a once-off donation. It was my card details or nothing. Which I’m sorry, is total bullshit. If you want to raise money for charity, you should accept casual donations. I shouldn’t have to sign a contract to help a worthy cause.
SOME MONEY IS BETTER THAN NO MONEY, ISN’T IT?!
I swear that I am not an awful human being. I promise. I’m really not. I do care about giving back. I don’t like the fact that we are basically selfish, polluting assholes who will destroy this earth in the space of our short lifetimes.
So I donate to charities where I can, and I like to think I pull my weight when it comes to ‘giving back’.
But putting insane pressure on people and making them feel shit for not giving money is actually counterproductive. When you coerce someone into donating to your charity, NEWSFLASH, they’re gonna walk away feeling like they never want to stop and talk to a charity person EVER AGAIN. It doesn’t matter if you’re raising money for a three-legged puppy, people are gonna run like they’ve never run before when you harrass them on their way to buy toilet paper and tampons.
Also, you don’t know my financial circumstances. You don’t know how much I already commit to other charities. You don’t know me, so quit it with the whole “you’re a selfish person” stare-downs.
Because you can promote your charity and not be a pushy/judgy jerk about it at the same time.
Until next time, loverz! xxxx
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