…I think you’re awesome, I really do. I love the Save the Arctic campaign – the polar bears, and the scaling of the Shard. But I wish you loved me more.
It’s the little things. Like getting my first cash appeal a week after I signed up to a regular gift online. And then getting my welcome pack two months later.
Or the phone call I had a couple of weeks ago after I’d entered your Glastonbury competition. Would I like to make a regular gift to Greenpeace?
I thought I had a regular gift to Greenpeace, but maybe it had stopped when I changed banks (I lose track of these things), so I asked the pleasant caller to check for me.
“Oh, I can’t do that,” he said. “Well, can you pass my question back to Head Office?” “Perhaps you could go online and check your bank statements,” he said.
Now I’m a busy person, and for various reasons I’m extra busy at the moment . So that’s a no, really.
So today I’m on the train and the same pleasant caller calls me back. “Just wondering if you’ve had time to check your bank statements,” he says.
“I thought I’d asked you to check for me?” I replied.
“Oh no, you see I’m in a fundraising centre and I just get passed certain details here.”
I feel like the folks in the Wizard of Oz must have felt when the curtains got drawn back to show a little man pulling levers and turning wheels. I’m just part of a mechanical system.
How much better would it have been if he’d been able to tell me either way?
How much, really, would it have cost to have the system in place to treat me like a valued supporter, whether my gift had lapsed or not?
That’s what I call a false economy.
Because now I don’t feel I’m special to you anymore, Greenpeace. And if my gift has lapsed (and I really don’t have time to check, believe me), do I really want to start it up again now?