When my son Wesley decided this past November he wanted to go to Washington DC in June with his 8th grade class, part of our reality-check discussion was that we were very supportive of him, but he would have to raise the money. We had four months from sign-up until end of March to raise $2000.
There are the conventional ways in life to do a fundraiser, when you are a 14 year old kid. Car washes. Lawn mowing. Bake sales. So Wesley, who is in student government and who once said he wanted to run for office because the campaigning looked like fun, thought up unique ways to raise money.
I helped him make a Handyman service flier which got him some babysitting, yard work, and odd jobs, but they were few and far between. (I have to say though, I am amazed at and grateful for the generosity of our neighbors who have hired him and continue to hire him to do jobs.) He thought up a weekly wacky short story subscription. Bless his heart, it was certainly unique and his stories were very funny, but it didn’t take off as big as he’d hoped.
It was time to think of a Big Idea. A fundraiser that we could put on between Thanksgiving, a busy Christmas, the doldrums of January, and before sports started getting busy again. So I said, how about a dinner & dance in February? I’ve always helped other causes, why not use my special event know-how to help my son?
For the last two decades, I’ve been involved in fundraising, mostly as volunteer, sometimes as paid staff. Telethons, door to door, special events, triathlons. Most people hate asking people for donations, but I thrive in it. As in, I like giving people the opportunity to put their money and time behind a cause we both believe in. Does that sound fakey? Well, it’s not. I would never, for instance, do fundraisers for a cause I don’t believe in, even if you paid me a million dollars because it would not sit well on my conscience.
Wesley liked the idea of a dinner & dance. Since I am from the Philippines, I suggested a Philippine fiesta, but after some thought, we decided it would have too narrow of an appeal. So we decided to do a couples dinner & dance, The Sweetheart Ball. It would have things I personally would want in a couples event: semi-formal attire, a string serenade, a keepsake photo, a nice sit-down dinner, and a DJ’d dance. (I’ve always loved dancing, since I almost won a freeze-dance contest against my uncle in second grade. In college, I put on student dances as a student spouse and was almost elected to office because of it.)
We picked a February day, one that didn’t have school/church dances scheduled so that we could have Wesley, his sister and a couple of their friends help. I lined up Ultimate Catering, whom I’ve worked with before on events and who’s always done a fabulous job. I happened to meet Anthony Johnson of Magic Mimer Entertainment at a Christmas party and was able to book him to DJ. We looked at doing the Ball at the schools, but were told we would have to take out event insurance which would come to the hundreds. Finally, we zoned in on the Utah Fire Museum. Luckily, they agreed to host us in exchange for a nominal fee, and the event was on.
If you don’t ask…
One of the things we wanted to include was a silent auction. I’ve learned over the years that silent auctions are a good way to raise extra income with a captive audience who understandably (though not ideally) is looking for a bargain.
A few Sweetheart Ball guests seemed really surprised that Wesley was able to get a lot of big getaway packages donated for the silent auction. “What, did he call them on the phone?” someone asked. “Yeah,” I said. “But most of them, he actually went into the business to ask them personally.”
I remember the first time he did this. We were in Cedar City the third week of December for a basketball invitational. Between my daughter’s basketball games, I took Wesley down to ask two restaurants, a hotel and a B&B for donations. The first restaurant said yes. Wesley looked so floored and grateful, it was cute. The hotel said they would get back to us, but was very encouraging. The second restaurant said no. The B&B said she would mail the certificate.
All in all, we had a good response rate. Many businesses liked the thought of being promoted to our audience. But many also just wanted to help out a 14 year old who was hustling for sponsorship. One business even said, “Nobody ever asks us to help. Sure, we’d love to.” That response really surprised me. My family soon knew that after we ate dinner at a restaurant, I would whip out a flier asking them to donate a dinner for two.
Pull on your bootstraps
To show how optimistic we were about how successful this thing was going to be, the first thing I did was to design 200 tickets (the maximum guests we could have in the space), and have them printed. I even worried that if we got 200 tickets sold, how were we going to fit everyone in the space without having to push tables back for the dance?
I made fliers, posters, ads, a Facebook event page, cute little teaser FB photos, and then we waited for the phone to ring. Many people said, it sounded really good, but it was too pricey. They had something else that night. They didn’t like to dance. They were on a diet (nobody really said this, but I half-expected it, it was getting a bit discouraging).
Three weeks before the RSVP deadline, I told Wesley to pull on his bootstraps. It was time for him to pound the pavement. Wesley was nervous, but he has a good enough head on his shoulders to recognize when he needed to put in some sweat equity. He went around our neighborhood. He emailed friends and family. We mailed invitations and he followed up. Some said to come back and he did. Some people said they couldn’t come but they would buy tickets anyway. Some people who couldn’t come donated instead. A few responded from the ads. I’m sure he felt like he talked to a gazillion people for a handful of yeses.
One miserably cold day, after being shredded by hurricane-force winds, he asked if he had to keep going around selling tickets. I looked in his eyes and recognized that worn-out expression. I almost didn’t want to keep doing this as much as he did. But I knew we needed to keep the faith. “Just a few more,” I cajoled. He squared his shoulders and did just that.
He might not have enjoyed those days, but maybe he’ll remember them when he is on an LDS church mission someday, going door to door, and doing “just a few more” for maybe another yes. In all, he sold 80 tickets, which I think is a good number for a first-time event during hard economic times, and a perfect number for logistics.
Wesley helped as much as his schedule allowed. For a kid with instrument practice, church, scouts and homework, it was tough to find time. But he helped when he could, making pinwheels, cutting out name cards, doing what needed to be done. The family also pitched in generously. Finally, finally, February 4 was here.
Click HERE for play-by-play account of the Sweetheart Ball.
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