I am Ebenezer Scrooge

Day 243

I was checking out at a non-profit thrift store the other day and the cashier said to me, “Could you add a dollar to help people with developmental disabilities?”   I was a bit flummoxed.

First I should probably mention that this thrift store’s tag line is, shopping with a purpose, and the stated mission is, “… to enhance the lives of individuals with developmental disabilities by providing funding…”   This was the first time a charity had asked me to supersize and cough up an additional dollar.     I’ll admit I blurted out, “Does that dollar go to some special fund in addition to the proceeds from shopping here?”

Apparently I was the first person that had ever asked her that because I got a blank stare coupled with some passive-aggressive shuffling and throat clearing from the people behind me in line.

I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to give them a dollar.  I just want to know where it is going.  Is that too much to ask?

I have gotten used to the public shaming in the name of philanthropy that has become so prevalent at almost every for-profit retail outlet in the US during this time of the year.  You know what I’m talking about.  The poor underpaid employee will drone something like, “If you don’t let me add a dollar to your bill to help The Royal Society for the Prevention of the Handbag Dog, you are clearly a self-centered ratbag.” And then everyone else in line will nod in agreement.

At this point the most typical responses are:

  • Enthusiastic acquiescence, “SURE”
  • Very loudly claim, “I gave last week” or “I give to lots of charities.”
  • Abashedly shaking your head no and developing sudden and keen interest in your shoes.

One would think during The Simple Year, since I’m visiting fewer stores, I would see less of this practice; but it seems more prevalent this year.  And, I actually have nothing against charitable giving.  In fact, I gave last week and I give to lots of charities. I guess I am a bit put off at the commingling of pure profit-seeking commerce with forced generosity.   Maybe, if finding a cure for left handedness is so important to that convenience store chain, it could just write a check itself?

But really only a horrible cynic would take the viewpoint that we are being manipulated into giving to the CEO of Kroger’s favorite charity rather than our own.  So, to avoid that label, I am going to take the high road and say life does get busy and so perhaps they are really offering a SERVICE to those of us that might not find the time to write a check to our non-profit of choice. Really giving at the check-out  is an opportunity to do a least a little something, even if we don’t care about orphan cats that need facial reconstructive surgery.

Plus, I would hate to be considered miserly by other shoppers I’ve never met before.

 

Programming note:  We are off on a holiday trip; I’ll post again on the 27th.   In the meantime, may your days be merry and bright and may all your mittens stay in sight.


3 Responses to I am Ebenezer Scrooge

  1. I have no problem saying “no” to these requests. I say, give happily to the causes that you feel led to give to, and don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for saying “no” to others. 🙂 Love your blog.

  2. I know this response is a bit late to the game but your post made me laugh and I thought you might like my story.

    I was in line at a “charity thrift store” of one brand or another and their cashier too asked me if I would like to contribute. I am a bit of a jerk so I said, “Oh, you see, I already am. I am purchasing these items here (indicating a shirt and pair of pants).” The clerk looked at me quite oddly and then said “Well, this goes in a special fund.” And I said, “Oh, by all means use the proceeds of my purchases for this special fund.” More looking. “No, that is only for the additional contribution.” You mean, says I “That you would like me to give you more money then I owe you for the clothing?” At that point he let it go.

    I abhore, in a generally anti social way, begging, panhandling, etc of all forms.

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