As they say, no good deed goes unpunished. I am living
proof.
My good deed? I gave to charity. A lot! Big mistake.
Most people wouldn’t see it as a mistake but rather a good
thing. It is. Until it comes back to bite you on the posterior.
I now get five letters a day from causes I never heard of
asking for money. They enclose
engraved stationary, greeting cards, cash (yes, they send ME money) and other "gifts" to entice me to give. How many too thin potholders, skimpy blankets and
tiny reusable shopping bags does a person need? Not to mention the personalized
address labels. That seems to be a favorite. I now have enough to last me until
2080. Does that mean I can never move?
These enclosures used to make me feel
guilty. Guilty enough to give, and give and give. Now, all I want to give is a
few choice words that would have made George Carlin blush.
Where the heck are they getting the money for these mass
mailings anyway? Why aren’t they using the money I’ve already sent to
fulfill the promises of care for the afflicted and research for the cure
instead of hounding me incessantly for more? They’re only going to use my money
to send me more junk. If I want tiny engraved pencils, I’ll go buy them.
And please don’t get me started on those annoying
in-the-middle-of-dinner phone calls that bypass my “Do Not Call” injunction.
They used to be polite exchanges between a solicitor and citizen. Now they’re shakedowns. For example, “Hello, Miss #@_*%$#!” or some other
mispronounced version of my name. The mispronunciation is a clear indicator
this is not a call from anyone who knows me but rather from someone who wants
my money. Most of the time they work around my troublesome last name and call
me by my first name. Don’t get me
started on how irksome that habit is.
Their spiel usually starts with some sort of praise like, “You
have been such a generous supporter of (insert name of charity) in the past.
Can we count on you for a hundred dollars at this time?” First, I gasp at the audacity of the amount they
expect me to give since these calls come on a weekly basis. Then I realize I
have never donated to any such
charity. I try politeness at first, saying something like, “I’m sorry. I just
don’t have the resources to donate to every charity that asks,” and prepare to
hang up. That’s never good enough for them. They come back with, “Perhaps you
can give us fifty dollars.” Still calm, I say, “No, I can’t.” Then the hondling begins. They keep reducing
the price and my refusals keep getting firmer until I’m compelled to slam the phone
down on them.
These people have forced me to take drastic measures. Now I
refuse to answer any call from a number I don’t recognize. The downside of this
method of containment is that I may miss a call from someone I might want to
talk to.
Moreover, it’s getting to the point that I don’t want to
give to any charity and that is not the way I was brought up, not the way I
want to be. I come from a long line of givers. I believe in charity but I also believe that more guidelines
and restrictions have to be established to keep those charities from abusing
their privileges and donors. Of course, not all charities have been reduced to
these heavy-handed methods of guilting gelt out of the generous. No matter how
tough times are for me there will always be a few charities I still give to
freely. They each mail me requests only a few times a year and never demand I
give more. They send me thank you letters or newsletters on the progress they
have made. They make me feel like I am doing something good for others and
that’s what giving should be.
Plus, they know I don’t need another tote bag.
