Fundbeggar Event #7

… but who’s counting…

I feel I have been run over by a steamroller. Every muscle in my body is aching as if I have the flu – but I don’t. I feel like I have a hangover – without the benefit of alcohol. What would cause this malaise? Welcome to the world of the Fundraising Event.

Our little non-profit does a couple of these a year and I hate them. I don’t think I expressed that strongly enough. I HATE THEM… even that doesn’t express it, but you get the picture.

If I didn’t give a crap, these events would be easy. I would let the person who is supposed to handle this (ie – this is not my job) go down in flames through their own destructively nonchalant approach. But the mission of a cancer care support organization that is free to its members is too important to let the organization fail. So I ask the “did you do this,” “how is this being handled,” “what is the process” questions as my boss is getting nauseous about what is left to the last minute – or completely forgotten.

This is where my hospitality experience kicks in. No matter what – at all cost, an event should look effortless and seamless – Especially when people are paying $150 a ticket in this economy. Fortunately, we pulled one off again, but at the cost of frazzled nerves and MY sore muscles (not to mention money). When you spend an entire day preparing, and then hold the event while unconsciously tensing your muscles until 12:30 am… ouch. I’m getting too old for this crap.

One very good but somewhat surreal aspect of the evening was having David there. Since he left the organization last year, I have slowly and eerily taken over the exact role he had – right hand and confidant to the CEO (different CEO) and the person who holds it all together and makes sure it all gets done properly. It was equally surreal for him, returning to the place he continues to have a great passion for but was unceremoniously removed from. I can’t imagine how it must have felt for him, but I give him great credit for attending and making polite conversation with the people who were responsible for him losing a job he loved – through no fault of his or lack of competence, quite the opposite – his great skill and value to the organization continues to be irreplaceable… chalk it up to political bullshit. In spite of all this, David’s presence last night was the brightest spot of the evening for me.

So tomorrow I count the money and Tuesday I report to the board of directors on how much of a financial success or disappointment the event was. If it was not a financial success (and I seriously doubt it was), I have the option of political suicide by throwing the (recently former) board chair’s wife under the bus for all of the ways she undermined the event financially (long story). Or I could just give them the numbers and let them figure it out. I’m going with plan B unless pressed…

So, in summery… I’m tired, I’m sore, I’m cranky, and I get to try and clean up the financial mess in a bad economy. Sucks to be me… but it could be worse – I could be having my own financial meltdown with the growing ranks of the unemployed down here. There… I ended on a positive note. See… I’m smiling. OK, enough smiling; those muscles hurt too.