These past few weeks I have been involved in collecting donations (yes – in those lovely, beautifully coloured little tins) for the hospital radio station I volunteer at. I was trained in this skill as I walked down the stairs to the entrance where some of the other volunteers and I would be collecting. I was told that there were three rules to collecting:
- Do not ask for donations
- Do not push the tin away from your body as though you are asking for donations
- Do not shake the tin and make the money rattle as though you are asking for donations
As soon as I was told these three laws, my inner plans that I had quickly formulated whilst walking down the corridor were quashed. The first thing I had been planning to do was approach an unsuspecting man or woman, rattle the tin in their faces and say ‘Flipping heck, not got much money in there. Would you like to fix that situation? (It’s for charity)’. But I guess some rules I’m just not brazen enough to break.
Initially, I thought that no person would donate any money if I didn’t ask them but I was proved completely wrong. With just a cheerful smile from me, people flocked to drop spare change into the pot; some even donated two or three pounds at a time! I managed to collect £20 in an hour – and that is good I can tell you.
Just today, I volunteered to collect money on a shopping street in my town for a couple of hours. Not even the warmth of the brightly coloured lantern-like pot in my hand could take away the numbness from my fingers. My hands had frozen and I didn’t even realize how bad it was until someone donated a pound but it didn't drop directly into the pot so I nudged it to get it in. I couldn’t even pick the coin up. I had lost normal usage of my hand – it was a surreal moment. Thoughts of piano and clarinet exams flooded my head – can’t pass when I can’t use my hands! Luckily, as soon as I sat on the bus home, my fingers warmed up and returned to their primary functions.
However, even my anaesthetized hands couldn’t distract me from the fact that the people in my town are very generous and it made me so happy to see so many townsfolk selflessly donate to charity. More of the older generation donated than the younger generation, and I, being a part of the youths of today did not expect any money at all – let alone the hundred pounds (and over) that we accumulated that day.
One of the most interesting things about volunteering to do something like this is the simplistic and fundamental joy of watching – and talking – to random people. I noticed around four clear techniques when people donated. They were:
- The ones who made a joke before giving money
- The ones who walked over confidently to donate
- The ones who stood next to you searching their bags for money (this is the most awkward time I have ever experienced in human communication)
- And the ones who notice me saying ‘good morning’ to them and come back later to donate because I’m just so lovely (this, I can assure you, reader, is one of the most truthful things I have ever said - of course.)
And there are also techniques used by those who don’t donate:
- The ones who don’t make eye contact and rush past you
- The ones who smile guiltily at you and tell you that they have no change
- And the ones who laugh at your predicament (but I usually catch them later when they walk back up the street)
I’m always surprised by how much I enjoy smiling at random people for money (even though I do not get paid myself). I have to say, the main thing I have learnt from this experience and would like to share with the rest of the blogging world is: when standing immobile outside in winter, wear gloves.
