ROTHENBURGER — The annoyance of checkout charity collections

COLUMN — I went through the checkout at a store this week and was asked by the cashier, “Would you like to make a donation to XYZ Charity?”

“OK,” I said, rather unenthusiastically because I’m not a fan of checkout charity collections.

“How much would you like to donate?” she asked.

I’d been expecting her to just add a dollar or two to my bill, but this is a new tactic, and a good one. Somebody probably did a study that showed people give more when they’re asked how much they want to give rather than being asked for just a loonie or a toonie.

Sticking to my guns, though, I went for the two dollars. I’ve always suspected that most people don’t like checkout charities any more than I do, and that suspicion was confirmed by a Marketplace segment on CBC last night. It even found that when one person in line says no to a donation, others in the lineup feel emboldened to say no as well.

Even more interesting, only a fraction of people who are asked to donate to a charity when going through the checkout actually do it, yet it’s a hugely lucrative exercise for those charities.

It’s not that people are cheap. They give, and they give, and they give. The huge numbers tallied by the United Way every year alone prove that, but there are many, many others as well.

However, being asked at a checkout is annoying.

I’m glad CBC did that show. It’s been bugging me for quite awhile. Years in fact. On Oct. 7, 2010, I wrote a column about it, and looking at it now, and watching the CBC program, I’m more convinced than ever that the way in which we give, and where we give, is best left up to our own discretion:

I met a fellow on the corner of Seymour and Third the other day. He was staring down at the sidewalk.

“It’s OK, mayor,” he told me. “I can get it.”

He’d dropped a nickel and was trying to figure out how to pick it up without falling over. He explained he was a little drunk so I picked up the nickel and handed it to him.

Turns out his name was Mel, and he said he’d appreciate it if I could top up the nickel so I gave him a couple of bucks. I know it was wrong, but how can you refuse a guy who has the same first name as you? I don’t usually give to these folks because I know all the arguments about what they use the money for, but this time I made an exception.

Why, then, did I feel a momentary twinge of irritation when I was asked at the Post Office to make a donation to mental health? And, the next night, when a super market cashier asked if I’d like to give to the fight against breast cancer?

On the one hand, I give to somebody I shouldn’t, and, on the other, am not enthusiastic about giving to a couple of causes I should.

I think it might be the proliferation of checkout fundraising that caused my hesitation. I don’t consider myself a cheapskate. I give to United Way and to some favourite specific causes. I paid 40 bucks for an apple pie in support of the Food Bank a couple of weekends ago and was happy to do it.

I understand how competitive it is out there for charitable donations, especially this time of year. Come September-October, there are more charity golf tournaments and walks and runs than anyone can possibly take part in. There’s Parkinson’s, and MS, and brain injury and, of course, cancer.

There are so many cancer campaigns I fear that other great causes lose out a little up against the Terry Fox Run, the Run for the Cure, Relay for Life, and Pink Ribbon campaign, but how can you weigh one against another?

I learned a new term this week: “cause marketing.” That’s where corporations associate themselves with good causes. The cause benefits, and the corporation’s name is associated with doing good for the community.

Nothing wrong with that, that I can see. In fact, businesses are huge contributors to charity, and they deserve nothing but credit. But what should I do about all those checkout solicitations? I considered going through the list of agencies supported by the United Way, and if I’m asked at the checkout counter to donate to one that I’ve already donated to, directly or indirectly, simply saying, “No, thanks, I’ve already given to that charity.”

But I won’t do that, because, after all, we’re talking about a dollar or two. I get asked for donations maybe three times a week when I’m paying for groceries or buying stamps or picking up a bag of nails. That’s 50 cents a day, not including Sundays.

Even if I get hit up two or three times for the same cause, it’s not going to break the bank. So, rather than feeling like I should explain myself if I say no, I’ll continue to say okay and have a dollar or two deducted from my change. It’s easier and faster that way.

However, I would prefer if cashiers didn’t ask me to sign my name and give them my phone number so I can be entered in a draw. I never win draws, anyway.

And, I don’t really want my name displayed on a little sign that says “Mel gave to the Save the Chickens fund,” or whatever the cause happens to be.

The shortcoming of checkout donations is that they don’t really raise awareness about the cause or what the money will go toward. I guess it’s up to me to know where my donation is going.

I won’t be terribly disappointed when fundraisers move along to the next idea for raising donations. In the meantime, here’s a toonie.

Mel Rothenburger can be contacted at armchairmayor@gmail.com. He’s on facebook.com/mel.rothenburger.7 and tweets @melrothenburger.