Proud

The other day my six-year-old son talked me into an impromptu weekend trip to Grand Central Station.  The ultimate destination was (obviously) the new Lego store at Rockefeller Center (it’s fabulous) but we made the requisite stop at the MTA NYC Transit Museum/Shop at Grand Central.

My son’s three-year long obsession with trains has recently abated, but the Train Museum is still a favorite stop, even if visiting now has just the slightest tinge of nostalgia.

It’s as much store as museum, but on the way out my son tugged at my sleeve and pointed at the glass donation box they have set up by the door.

“Should we leave them some money?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

“This place is great, and we want it to be here forever, don’t we?”

Sometimes the answers are just that simple.

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Throwing Boomerangs

Not surprisingly, I’ve never learned how to throw a boomerang properly.  When I have thrown them, some come back and some don’t.  How long it takes, the path they take, these are all variable.

Today an old friend who just had a new baby asked me for the name of a good, affordable lawyer to draw up his will.  It just so happens I had someone to recommend, a lawyer named Joanne Sternlieb with a private practice that I used, with great satisfaction, when my first child was born.

I’m pretty sure Joanne has forgotten about me – I was just one of many clients, many years ago – and she’s probably not aware how happy I was with her work.  Yet she did such a good job and provided such a good value that when someone asked me, six years later, for a recommendation, I passed her name along instantly.

Joanne threw a boomerang.  She provided a service and an exceptional experience that came back to her – even though in this case it took many years.  If she’s throwing lots of boomerangs every day, then over time the enterprise builds:  sometimes in obvious, linear ways (two weeks after working with one client she gets hired by that client’s friend), but just as often (I’d guess) less predictably.

The unexpected connections come when there are lots of people out in the world who, in the back of their minds, carry around a memory of you as the most exceptional person they’ve met doing what you do.

It’s easy, when you’re busy, to switch off when a given meeting or opportunity shows no sign of panning out in the short term; to think of interactions in terms of what can come clearly, linearly, right now. Of course that matters.  But life is also about randomness and spontaneous, surprising connections, and about the things you put out in the world coming back in unexpected, positive ways.

By being your best self in all situations, by being generous and making every interaction positive and productive for the person you’re meeting, you’re throwing boomerangs.

So, did you throw any boomerangs today?

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The gift you give

There are two reasons I’ve been thinking and writing about generosity: first, I know I’ll be happier the more generous I am, so I’m practicing.  Second, by experiencing the rewards of my own generosity, I will be able to translate something I KNOW into something I FEEL.

Let me explain.

Most people don’t feel comfortable asking other people for donations to causes they believe in.  I’ve been told often, even by people who give a lot, that there’s deep discomfort in “hitting up my friends,” and I’ve witnessed fabulous nonprofit professionals who commit their lives to a cause, yet who somehow cannot bring themselves to stand in front of someone and ask them to fund the cause in which they so deeply believe.  And even fundraisers box themselves in to comfort levels of what kind and size of donations they’ve decided they can ask for.

So here’s the thought experiment: yesterday I wrote about the $20 I gave to a guy who asked for money on the subway.  And what I experienced was that I came out ahead.  Personally, I got more out of giving than the $20 I gave away.

Of course this makes sense.  Whenever anyone gives a donation, they are coming out ahead.  They are deciding freely to give the money away, which means that they are getting something of more personal value than the money they are giving away.  And the kicker is that it doesn’t matter if the person is giving a gift of $20 or $2,000 or $20,000,000.

What that value is will vary for every person – it could be the economic value their gift is creating through lost suffering and economic hardship; the moral value of righting an injustice; the social value of putting one’s name on a plaque or a list or on the side of a building; the psychic value of helping someone (the donor) become the person she wants to be.

Intellectually, I get it and you get it.  But until we all feel it in our gut, we hold ourselves back.  Until we feel it our gut, we believe on some quiet level that the playing field is unbalanced, that the person doing the giving is in one way or another on higher ground than the person doing the asking.

By making a practice of your own generosity, you have a chance to remind yourself: they are the ones getting the deal; you are the one giving the gift.

You are the one who has something special, something precious, that you are offering up to them at a bargain price.

Truly.

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Giving is as fun as sex

Apparently it’s true. From Nick Kristoff’s recent op-Ed:

Brain scans by neuroscientists confirm that altruism carries its own rewards. A team including Dr. Jorge Moll of the National Institutes of Health found that when a research subject was encouraged to think of giving money to a charity, parts of the brain lit up that are normally associated with selfish pleasures like eating or sex.

A young colleague of mine set out over the weekend to raise money to support Haiti.  She and a small group of friends walked the length of Manhattan (15 miles) with the goal of raising $500.  So far they’ve raised $7,500 and counting.

Why has she raised more than 15 times her goal?  It’s because her “ask” (“sponsor my walk in support of Haiti”) was really two gifts to her friends and network, since they:

  1. Are looking for a way meaningfully to support those affected in Haiti
  2. Appreciate and want to support her personally, for the work that she does and the person that she is.

One of the most powerful things you can do is to reframe what it means to ask someone to give, to remember that as much as they are supporting you, that you are giving them a gift.  You are providing them with a solution.  Better yet, you may be helping them become the person they want to be.

And, hey, it may just be as fun as sex.

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Generosity experiment revisited

A few weeks ago I started a generosity experiment.  The idea, sparked by a homeless man to whom I did not give, was to spend a period of time saying ‘yes’ to all requests to give – whether a person on the street, a donation request from a nonprofit, whatever.

Some people, like Jeff, really hated the idea at first (“AHH! NOO! STOP!” was his initial reaction); others shared my sense that the practice of being generous itself was inherently valuable.

A month later, I’m glad for the experiment.  I gave more than I normally do and I gave more often.  And it felt good and right, especially during the holidays, a time when presents of all sorts were flying in all directions.

And while I won’t continue giving to virtually everyone who asks, I will give more and more often.  The practice of being generous instead of critical (discerning?) is, I have found, important for at least two reasons:  first, we are how we act, so if I can habitually act more generous, I will be and become a more generous person.  Second, the experiment served as a deeper exploration of how much giving is an act of self-expression, rather than (or in addition to) a “purchase” of a social outcome.

The people who didn’t like my experiment all said something like, “If I pass a person on the street asking for money, I don’t give because I know it makes more sense to give to a homeless shelter.”  Put another way, one could better purchase social change for a homeless person by giving to a shelter or a food bank.   Objectively, that’s probably true (though one doesn’t know for sure).  However, it also misses something: first, because whether or not you give a dollar or two to a person on the street really doesn’t affect the larger donation you’ll hopefully make to the homeless shelter or the food bank; second, because the act of saying ‘no’ over and over again is reinforcing something in you and in me.

I’m not saying give every time, I’m asking us to be honest about why we do and don’t give, and to recognize the effect it has on us.

Let’s take an extreme example: suppose that over the course of the year I’m asked to give 200 times – maybe 100 times directly and 100 times by various nonprofits in various ways.  And let’s say I have a limited amount of money to give, which I do.  Isn’t the practice of saying ‘no’ 195 times and ‘yes’ 5 times reinforcing a mindset and habit that I’m the kind of person who says no when people ask for help?  And couldn’t there be a way to say “yes” 15 or 50 or 100 times that would reinforce something else entirely?

I don’t want to take this too far – to the conclusion that all philanthropists should spread their funding widely so that they can practice saying ‘yes.’  That’s not right either.

But I do want to push myself and others to ask whether it is healthy to think of every giving decision from the head rather than from the heart.  Can’t the argument that “this isn’t the best use of my money” be paralyzing or, worse, an excuse never to part with any money, because nothing is ever good enough?

Maybe a request for a gift isn’t always chance to analyze what is or isn’t the “best” use of my money.  Instead, maybe a request for a gift is an opportunity to practice being the person that I want to be – someone whose first response is to be open and generous.

And maybe, with practice, I will be transformed in a way that is powerful for me and for the world.


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I owe you

A good friend was recently working on a freelance job on a very short deadline. She did a bang-up job, made her client look great, and sent in her bill for the hours she worked. The client responded: “I don’t think you billed us enough for this job.”

Nice.

Most business relationships have an adversarial undertone: we’re going to be collaborators and co-creators, but let’s duke it out over the contract first, and then let’s make sure it’s under budget because that will make me look good. I win when the project makes me look like a star, and you’ll get what we agreed upon in the first place. That was our deal.

It’s so easy to go back to the contract, to explain to yourself that your hands are tied and that you’re being fair. But there are times when you know you owe someone, when you know you got a great deal.

Go ahead, step up and say, “We made a mistake. You didn’t charge me enough for what you delivered. I owe you.”

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Generosity experiment

On the subway today, a man was asking for donations so he could buy food, sandwiches, deodorant, even hand sanitizer to give for free to homeless people.  He had lived on the street two decades ago, he said, and now does this part time to give back, in addition to a part time job he holds.

I have absolutely no idea if this is true, but I was skeptical. I, along with everyone else in my car, got off the train without giving him any money.  Right after I got off the train I knew I had done the wrong thing.  It just didn’t feel right.

Most of the time I don’t give to people on the street. It seems to make sense, rationally, not to give most of of the time — and instead to give to great organizations that are doing things for the homeless. Perhaps, but it’s easy to take this too far. 

Giving is an act of self-expression, and generosity is a practice. Each time I decide not to give, I’m reinforcing a way of acting – one that’s critical and analytical and judgmental.

You may not be like this at all.  You may consistently act from the heart first and not the head.  Good for you.  More often than not, I don’t, though it’s something I’m working to change.

So I’ve been thinking that I need to try a generosity experiment: for a period of time, when I’m asked to give, to say yes.  To everything.  To emails and people on the street and friends raising money.  Everyone.  I think it will be good practice.

What do people think?  Does this make sense? [sic]

P.S. More on this topic from the Freakonomics blog, where Barbara Ehrenreich is very clear that you always give to someone on the street who directly asks you. 

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The junk drawer experiment

My house has a junk drawer, somewhere for keys and phone chargers and pens and post-its…and whatever other random things seem like they should be around but don’t have an obvious home.

For the last two years, it’s been almost impossible to close the drawer.

For a while I’d grudgingly clean it every few months, painstakingly sorting through what should stay and what I wanted to throw out.  Invariably, two weeks later it would be overflowing again.

Three months ago I tried something different with the drawer.  I took a plastic bag and dropped everything I didn’t absolutely need from the drawer into the bag.  But I didn’t throw the bag out – I just put it aside.  This way I was comfortable putting a lot more stuff in the bag, instead of leaving things in the drawer that I wasn’t ready to throw out.  I was curious to see how long it took for me to look for something in that bag.

Surprise, surprise: I’m at three months and counting, and I have yet to go look for the bag.  Pretty soon, I’m going to have to admit that I’m ready to throw it and the former contents of the drawer out.

I wonder if there’s any application here to philanthropy – to help us all as givers in our own practice of aparigraha, or non-hoarding? (which is something I talked more about here).  Could you create a vehicle for people (everyday people, not just ultra-high net worth individuals who for lots of reasons create private foundations) to set aside money to see how it feels to live without the money for a while?  Some sort of escrow account that’s practice for giving more, where people could put the money aside with a plan to give but the option to get it back?

How would you structure it?  What would the mechanics be?  Who would you want to have involved – financial institutions, 401(k) providers, non-profits, online giving marketplaces? What would you name it?  How would you spread the word?

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First to 100

I’ve been trying to teach my 5 ½ year old son to play tennis.  Our typical session has been short – usually less than 10 minutes – so progress has come in fits and starts.  Last week, I could tell he was starting to lose interest in our standard drill: me standing 5 feet away from him, bouncing the ball to him for him to hit.

So we invented a new game: I moved across the net, stood at the service line, and hit balls to him at the other service line.  Each time he connected with the ball he got a point.  Each time he missed entirely, I got a point.  Then we spiced things up: each time he hit the ball over the net and hit it in the court, he got two points.

This was a big deal.  Suddenly, his waning attention transformed into pointed questions about the rules and the point system.  He decided he wanted to get to 100 points and he began angling for a lot of things to count for 2 points – a ball that first bounced on his side or a ball that landed in the doubles alley, for example.

Interesting.  I had created an arbitrary system with an arbitrary set of rules (which I made up as I went along).  But in his eyes, it was my job to define the rules of the game, and he’d decided he wanted to win at this game.  I had suddenly become judge and jury on allocating something that was free for me to give out and mattered a lot to him.  Needless to say, he got a lot of free two-pointers (final score of game 1: he trounced me 137-37).

Seem like a far flung example?  It strikes me that this tennis court parable is an awful lot like work environments, where managers create (inadvertently or not) point systems that are no less arbitrary than the one I created on the tennis court.  These points aren’t just about money, they’re about attention and opportunities and consultation and respect.  What’s valued and sought after will vary depending on the culture of your organization.  But you can be sure that, to anyone who values the work they do, the currency your culture trades in matters to them.

It was unbelievably easy for me to be generous with my son in giving out points.  What about at work?  If you have the respect of your colleagues and peers, then they’re watching you just as closely, and once the rules of the game are defined, you have the option of being generous or stingy in giving “points,” not just to people who work for you, but for peers and even for supervisors.  It’s something everybody values, and cultivating your own genuineness and generosity here is one of the easiest ways to motivate, energize and inspire those you hope to lead.

(P.S. Still reading?  Please think about helping me fulfill my birthday wish by giving to Acumen Fund.)

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What’s in it for me?

There are a lot of ‘what’s in it for me’ strategies out there, and they are usually run by ‘what’s in it for me’ people.  Right now AIG feels a lot like this, as do seven- and eight-figure bonuses at firms that received government bailout money.

Unfortunately, ‘what’s in it for me’ strategies do work to a point.  You get the big paycheck after posting record losses, you make a pile of money spamming or interrupting people or just generally being slightly misleading as your core customer acquisition strategy.

So what’s wrong with a ‘what’s in it for me’ strategy?  It’s that it absolutely, positively guarantees that you won’t create something great.  Which forces you to ask yourself, “why am I doing this in the first place?”

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