This is the story of what my wife, Nancy, likes to call
our $500 hamburger.
In early January, I received an email from Sven, the
fellow who is in charge of development -- a more refined term for "raising
cash" -- at the undergraduate college I attended. Sven was going to be in
my city and wanted to know if we would have time for him to take us to dinner.
We agreed to meet at 6:30 p.m., at a restaurant in our neighborhood.
Sven was waiting for us when we got to the restaurant.
The three of us talked for a bit about news of the college since we'd last seen
him. We ordered our food. Nancy chose what, at $12.50, seemed to me a slightly
overpriced hamburger from the menu.
As we waited for our food, talk turned to various efforts
under way at the college. I mentioned that years earlier I thought I had given
to a fund that Sven mentioned. He told me he could check if I wanted and then
took out his smartphone to consult an application that allowed him to see what
every alumni had given annually to the college for at least the past two
decades.
Sure enough, I'd given to that fund in honor of a former
professor. But just underneath that entry was an indication that in 1999, I had
pledged $500. Next to it was the notation "not fulfilled." In other
words, this deadbeat sitting across from Sven hadn't paid up on the pledge.
"That can't be right," I said.
Sven showed me the phone again.
I'm among those people in the U.S. who try to give
regularly to education and other not-for-profits without a political agenda. (I
don't give to candidates or elected officials.) According to the Giving USA Foundation, the amount individuals gave in 2011 was $217.79 billion, up 4
percent from 2010. Giving to education, the second-largest recipient of
donations, increased by 4 percent to a total of $38.87 billion that same year.
I don't like to be called out as someone who reneges on a
pledge. As I again told Sven that I couldn't possibly have missed the mark 14
years ago, I noticed that every other donation we made over the years was
carefully noted with precise detail.
Sven wasn't trying to shake me down for the cash. He
wasn't even making a big deal over it. I got the sense that he found it
somewhat amusing that it bugged me so much to have discovered a blemish someone
noted on my record.
But before I could continue arguing how this couldn't be,
Nancy had slipped our checkbook in front of me. "Make good on that $500
pledge you made," she said. "It's the right thing to do."
Clearly, she was right. The pledge had been made whether
I remembered making it or not. Sven quickly loaned me his pen.
Within a week I received a nice note from Sven thanking
me for my donation of $500 in 1999.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of
The Right Thing: Conscience, Profit and Personal Responsibility in Today's Business and
The Good, the Bad, and Your Business: Choosing Right When
Ethical Dilemmas Pull You Apart, is a lecturer in public
policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy
School.
Follow him on Twitter:
@jseglin
Do you have ethical questions
that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@comcast.net.
(c) 2013 JEFFREY L. SEGLIN. Distributed by Tribune MediaServices, Inc.
2 comments:
Jeffrey, my admiration to you for going back and making good on this contribution, although I'd question the ethics of Sven in bringing this up this many years later.
Charlie Seng
Lancaster, SC
I am a UMass Grad and donated every year until they started asking several times each year and phone calls and so etc.
It got stupid.
So I got sick of it and stopped. Once a year is OK (actually too much) but who are they? So they lost $100 a year for eternity.
I paid in full for my degree and why should they mooch from me??
No offense but too much is too much.
A Owseichik
Greenfield, Ma.
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