Alumni Giving

Yesterday, I got tracked down by Princeton University Alumni Giving, the most dedicated and tenacious organization ever assembled in the history of the universe. Whenever people say that the government can run massive programs better than the private sector, I am tempted to point them to Princeton's Alumni Giving, an all-consuming phenomenal money-making machine with an endowment of roughly $15 billion. On my most recent call, the cheerful sophomore representative did not even ask for money. She introduced herself as a member of alumni giving and thanked me for my previous contribution. I prepared for her to try to hit me up for more cash, but instead she just offered to answer questions I had about Princeton. I didn't really have any questions, so it was sort of a short call.

(Disclaimer: After about 19 phone calls, 7 mailings to 3 addresses and untold email, I finally caved in and donated $20 last year. The reason I did this was because I fear that the university keeps a hit list of non-donors and then sends kids to egg their homes. And then adults to murder them. Murder the non-donors, not the egg kids.)


How many people work for the Alumni Giving office? In my time at Princeton, I can't think of any organization that attracted as many eager volunteers as Alumni Giving. Certainly Amnesty International or AIDS Awareness did not have the manpower to phone every single alumnus ever for the sole purpose of answering questions people may or may not have about unknown issues.

What exactly is the draw of working for Alumni Giving? Is it people's charitable desires? Princeton, like most well funded private school endowments, spends only about 4 to 5 percent of the principal value a year, despite investment returns over 16 percent. I'm personally unclear how most charitable foundations operate, but seeing as how doing good today is worth more than doing good tomorrow, I would speculate that your typical charity disburses or puts to work much more than 4 to 5 percent. And while Princeton's enormous endowment has enabled it to offer the nation's best financial aid packages, much of alumni giving funds of course go to benefit people who already range somewhere between well-off and MTV-Cribs-well-off.

If charity is the wrong answer, I'm left with school spirit as my only remaining explanation for this curiously high interest in telemarketing. I still find this surprising though. While Princeton students certainly have school pride, I never found it to be a particularly rah-rah place. There wasn't overwhelming demand to be a counselor or a residential advisor. Sports were poorly attended and barely followed, even popular sports we were competitive in. Maybe half the students read the school paper - and on and on the examples could go.

Ultimately, I understand the desire in some people to help give back to their school. Why so many people do it through these means though, (and I specifically mean calling me to ask for money) continues to confound.