Jason Fry

The ocean has a funny way of teaching you humility. Several years ago, I decided to tackle a new challenge: surfing. My first foray into the Pacific was less than graceful. Armed with a rented board and a healthy dose of overconfidence, I paddled out with the singular goal of getting beyond those crashing, churning waves.

And fight, I did.

Does culture really eat strategy for breakfast? Peter Drucker's famous quote underscores a fundamental truth: even the most brilliant strategic plans will falter if the organizational culture doesn't support them. But “culture” and “strategy” are not mutually exclusive. In fact, we need to be strategic about culture too.

As soon as I sat down at the table for the executive staff team meeting, I could tell there was tension in the air.

Years ago, I was working with a very skilled major gifts officer. She had a donor, Elizabeth, who was in her 90s and who was very loyal to the organization. However, this staff member had tried contacting Elizabeth over and over through e-mail or by phone and leaving voicemails. As much as she tried diligently to get in touch with Elizabeth, she was unsuccessful. She started telling herself a variety of stories. Maybe something is wrong or she’s sick? Maybe I upset her with all my emails. Maybe she heard something negative about our organization? Maybe I offended her by asking her for money? Maybe she died?

One evening in early December of 2020, I got a text from a friend (who is a County Commissioner) that there was a mob of armed protesters outside her house. Her 12-year-old son was home alone at the time. He called her while she was at a Health District meeting that would determine whether our county would issue a mask mandate. Can you imagine how afraid he must’ve been?

Events like these have happened across the country. The storming of the U.S. Capitol lingers as an inevitable pinnacle in a ramping up of hate and discontent.

These events were inspired by a sense of fear, and were intended to stoke fear in others. Another friend of mine said how those events made her “afraid to even go outside to take a run” that afternoon.

We raised $5.7 million.

OR

We raised $5.7 million!

Why does one character change that statement so much?

Fundraising: The Music and The Notes

I’ve been trying to teach myself how to play guitar on and off for the past three years. I don’t read music. I didn’t grow up in a musical family. I don’t sing (except for off-key but energetic Bob Seger karaoke riffs on rare occasions). But something happens when I practice the guitar.

The analytical side of my brain is frantically trying to remember how to position the fingers of my left hand to make a ‘G’ chord. Developing the muscle memory for the seemingly infinite combination of six strings and however many different fret combinations is daunting. To me, this part of the practice feels like work. It’s memorization and repetition for both mind and muscle.

On rare occasions, though, I can hear what sounds a little like actual music. It gives me a rush and makes me want to play more. I might even find myself nodding my head, moving my shoulders into the picking, or smiling. This is when the practice feels more like art.

Often, I’m asked to provide proven fundraising principles to a group of board members or a nonprofit staff team. Even though I try to weave in stories with the fundraising best practices, I suspect that many people are in their heads, trying to figure out how to hit the notes. This might be like me having a visit with my guitar instructor. It’s helpful, but I really don’t improve until I practice.

One evening in early December I got a text from a friend (who is a County Commissioner) that there was a mob of armed protesters outside her house. Her 12-year-old son was home alone at the time. He called her while she was at a Health District meeting that would determine whether our county would issue a mask mandate. Can you imagine how afraid he must’ve been?

“Hold the line…love isn’t always on time…oh oh oh.” (Familiar with this Toto song?)

Like love, flights out of Newark, expense reports (at least mine) and fundraising campaigns – sometimes we just don’t have control over things being “on time.”

We’ve said before that donors don’t really care that you were supposed to finish your annual campaign in March. Or that your capital campaign was supposed to be in the “community” phase by now. Especially during today's uncertainty, most people don’t care that your campaign timing might be off.