A Charter for Chuggers

18/04/11

Back in the dim and distant days…

…when the Earth was still cooling and dinosaurs roamed, I used to collect for a few charities.

The concept of the covenant/direct debit was a bit modern and outlandish then, and no one really trusted it. We still shook tins – or rather, plastic jar doodads. And we had, behind us, a box of paper so that someone who really wanted to could sign up to make a regular donation, or just receive information by post. (Email was still rare.)

One charity, in particular, had very specific policies on collecting.

In a pub in Camden we’d all form up, and Matt the organiser would lay down the rules:

1. At no point were we to be aggressive or unpleasant. We relied on charity, not guilt. We could joke, tease, flirt, converse, persuade. We were not under any circumstances to accuse.

2. We must not lie. We should not suggest that we wanted to discuss the charity rather than secure a donation. We should at all times be up-front about what we were there for. At no time was it okay to inflate figures, make up facts, or do anything which, upon investigation, could be perceived as misleading.

3. The moment the member of the public wanted to walk away, that was that. Thank you so much etc.

4. We should stand to the side of the pavement, not in the middle, and place ourselves in such a way that there was never a sense of members of the public having to ‘run the gauntlet’ in order to get to a supermarket or a tube station. In addition, we should be sensitive to placing ourselves near cashpoints – in the first place because this could be oppressive, but in the second because someone going to a cashpoint is de facto less likely to have change in his or her pocket.

5. The phrase: “can I have two minutes of your time” was specifically forbidden; not only was it misleading (see 2) but it was known to be misleading. Opening the dialogue with a known untruth was counterproductive.

“I would rather,” Matt would conclude every time, “that you came back with an empty tin, having made only positive impressions, than that someone goes home angry with our outfit or feels uncomfortable. Because that is not what we do. We do the other thing.”

As opposed to the charity collectors I’ve come across recently, some of whom have been rude, accusatory, rapacious, obstructive, aggressive, and mendacious.

So: if your charity uses chuggers, give them Matt’s speech. Or expect people to associate you with that kind of behaviour.

2 Comments to “A Charter for Chuggers”

Foz Meadows said on April 18th, 2011:

I, too, have worked as a chugger (though I’ve never heard that term used in Australia – I always thought of myself as a charity hawker) back in my first year of university. We didn’t get any such pleasant speeches during training, and in fact were specifically encouraged to get in front of people, to use the two minute line, and to try and get them to sign up on the spot, because we weren’t actually allowed to collect cash donations even if people offered them. We were also under severe pressure to sign people up in order to justify the expense of paying us, such that our team leader would try to gee us up every few hours with motivational hacky-sack games to make us alert and aggressive.

When, after two weeks on the job, my guilt at being forced to act like an obnoxious saleswoman (or rather, my refusal to act like an obnoxious saleswoman) had resulted in me not signing up a single person to the charity, I was summarily fired over the phone.

I like Matt’s way better.
Nat said on April 18th, 2011:

I wish your type of Chuggers still operated Nick! On one hand, the ones I’ve dealt with have generally been polite and taken the hint if I’ve been in a rush, but even telling them that you already donate (which in the case of some charities I do) isn’t always a sure fire way of stopping them, and I’d rather not be called a liar by someone supposedly trying to instil a spirit of giving in me.

Having said that, a douchey bluetooth headset (yes that’s me, too lazy to hold a phone, I seriously hate being without it!) and a brisk “Sorry, I’m on the phone!” usually works.