One (More) for the Money

Friday, October 13, 2006

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

One (More) for the Money

By J’AMY PACHECO

When my daughter started school, I thought my challenges would be limited to making sure my child got there with a lunch and a pencil, returned home, learned things in between and did her homework every night.

Never in a million years did I dream I’d have to become a fundraiser. Little did I know.

I was initiated during her pre-school year, when she brought home a glossy catalogue filled with items for sale – by me. Since my child was then only four, I assumed I was the one expected to go door-to-door selling cookie dough and paperweights to help the school raise money.

Since I was paying the school for the privilege of leaving my daughter there, I didn’t feel any particular compulsion to run out and be a top seller. I bought an item or two, sent the order in, and washed my hands of fundraising — or so I thought.

The catalog sales continued in kindergarten, but again, I was comfortable doing my part by purchasing a few things for myself.

As my daughter grew older, though, the pressure to perform increased. Professional fundraisers came to school, waving plastic inflatable chairs and neon Frisbees before the glazed eyes of students, assuring them that they could WIN these FABULOUS items, if they could sell just 98 items to family and friends.

It wasn’t long before I started allowing my daughter to phone her grandparents to pitch her wares. Never mind that the stuff was mostly high-priced dollar store merchandise; the school would benefit fjfew sales, and my daughter was always lucky enough to earn whatever low-level prize she coveted.

This year, the stakes grew higher when the professional fundraiser advised my daughter that she could (a) earn a personal water cooler, and (b) participate in a fun event – if she sold enough items.

“MOM!” she exclaimed that evening. “They’re going to have PIG RACES at school!”

All my little salesperson had to do was sell 17 items to get to the pig races, where she would get to race her very own mechanical pig. If her pig won a race, she could win even more prizes.

To get the personal water cooler, however, she had to sell a whopping 48 items. (Ironically, she’d been asking for a cold water cooler to keep upstairs for late-night sipping for quite some time. As the person who changes everyone’s sheets, I had steadfastly refused to supply anything that would make late night beverage sipping easy.)

Any sane parent would have convinced the child to stop at 17 items, then go and buy the personal water cooler at the dollar store. But I really didn’t want the water cooler, so I left it up to her to figure out how to get it.

Things got complicated when, almost immediately after the catalog came home, a friend phoned to ask us to participate in a fundraising walk for a children’s hospital. The walk was expected to draw about 15,000 participants.

Knowing my weaknesses, my friend directed me to a Web site for the hospital that showed how the money would help children. With tears running down my face, I agreed to do it.

This created a dilemma — how to participate in two fundraisers at the same time? Which entity needed our contributions more — the school, or the hospital?

Both were worthy causes. The hospital’s need clearly was more significant, but so was its resource pool.

We finally decided to seek sponsors for the hospital walk, and sent e-mails to family and friends. Whoever didn’t pony up for the walk was fair game, and I let my daughter hawk her wares to them.

The fates smiled upon us, because we not only exceeded our financial goal for the walk, but we survived it — despite having had to get up at 4:30 a.m. to participate. The pig races are a go – and it looks like that FABULOUS water cooler may be coming home.

The end? Nah. I just learned a weeklong science camp trip is planned for the spring, and fundraising efforts are getting underway. I can hardly wait