Fantastic campaign arrived in my letter-box yesterday. It stood out among the hate-inspiring anti-labor leaflets and multitude of Liberal propaganda that I've received in the last two months. Good stuff - keep it up @Greens #Vicvotes
As published by Lumosity.
You could train your self-control with a technique that’s so easy, you can do it while you eat, flip channels, or brush your teeth. It might just be possible according to a new research study in which 70 college students went through 2 weeks of self-control training that involved using their non-dominant hands in everyday life.
The strength theory of self-control
Many scientists liken self-control to a muscle: the more you use it, the more fatigued it becomes. If you’ve lifted weights until you’re sore, you’re more likely to drop a heavy bag of groceries; and if you’ve used your self-control until it’s drained, you might snap at a well-meaning friend.
According to the researchers who conducted this 2013 study, the strength model also has a theoretical upside. They hypothesized that the students in this study could strengthen self-control in the long run — in the way that a body builder eventually strengthens his muscles after weeks of training — by practicing self-control more often. In this case, students would train by resisting the urge to use their dominant hands.
How the study exercised self-control and tested aggression
At the beginning of the study, each student answered an Aggression Questionnaire to help researchers understand their natural aggression and anger levels.
The students were then split into two groups: a training group and a control group. Over the next two weeks, the training group was told to exert self-control by using their non-dominant hands as much as possible for everyday tasks. The trainers filled out online diaries and answered text messages from the researchers to help stay on track. The control group received generic texts and questions during this time period.
After two weeks, all students came back to the lab to take part in two experimental tasks designed to provoke anger and aggressive behavior — and to help researchers measure how successful training had been.
First, students were told to present their life goals to a stranger over video chat. As far as the students knew, this stranger was meant to give constructive feedback. In reality, the stranger’s goal was to provoke anger: instead of real feedback, students got a barrage of insults. Immediately afterwards students answered questions about their anger levels.
Next came a disguised test of aggressive behavior: students were told to play a competitive game against the same insulting stranger. If they won, they could punish their opponent with a loud blast of white noise. In reality, the “games” were rigged so that the students won every time, and the length and loudness of their blasts gave researchers an opportunity to measure aggression levels.
Less anger linked to self-control training
In the survey administered after the students received insulting feedback, the training group reported feeling less angry than the control group.
And when researchers looked only at students with high Aggression Questionnaire scores, an even more striking difference came out. The naturally aggressive people who didn’t undergo self-control training tended to deliver more aggressive blasts of noise, as expected; but the naturally aggressive people who did train self-control showed no unusually aggressive behavior.
Self-control is one of the more fascinating aspects of human behavior. While this study examined practicing self-control in a very specific situation, this ability can have far-reaching effects on other aspects of everyday life. In a past study, for example, researchers found that people perceive coworkers with higher self-control as better at their jobs. And anecdotally, all of us can remember a time when self-control felt crucial to a task.
That’s why it’s so encouraging to see researchers explore such a simple, accessible technique for training self-control. While further research remains to be done, the non-dominant hand technique is yet another way you can challenge yourself during your regular routine. Next time you play a Lumosity impulse control game like Color Match, add to the challenge by using your non-dominant hand.
This is not good marketing. Someone at Australia Post has convinced this company to spend money on targeting potential art investors via the lifestyle survey. Below is how they think an email communication on this subject should look:
Let's bullet what is wrong:
- Why is it branded from Australia Post?
- I'm not their target audience (not CEO, not an investor, not old or wealthy)
- Why is there a pen writing on a computer screen?
- Why is Grace Kelly worth more than gold?
- Can I rent Andy Warhol?
D-Rev's Krista Donaldson tells McKinsey about a radical approach to medical design that is changing the lives of the world's poorest people. To read the transcript visit here.
Interestingly D-Rev - which stands for Design Revolution - has found that their mission cannot end with innovative designs.
Experience has taught D-Rev that in order to ensure their products are reserved for the people who really need them, they have to be responsible for the manufacture and distribution. The goal is to make sure an $80 knee is distributed to prosthetic clinics around the world and sold for $80 to low income recipients. In the US, an equivalent item would cost $6,000 and without this level of logistical responsibility, D-Rev products might be provided to clinics and individuals at a greater cost than intended.
Many charities have spoken about the impact of a saturated direct mail environment and there is a level of criticism of the industry for sending too much mail - much of which lands in letter boxes on the same day.
If you are of the opinion that charity mail is being lost in the clutter, imagine what the situation will be like if Australia Post is successful in it's campaign to reduce the number of delivery days from five to three. Visit this link to read my article last month which encouraged people to acknowledge the importance of daily mail delivery as a public service which is still necessary for thousands of Australians.
If Australia Post is allowed to make this change, direct mail responses will be impacted. If a supporter is forced to receive a week's worth of mail in three days rather than five, or worse, if their mail is held at a post office to be picked up in person, the clutter will increase and individuals will be far less likely to respond and donate.
Already the most significant expense in any direct mail campaign is the postage and these costs are unlikely to decrease as a result of reduced delivery days. More certainly, the number of responses received by charities - and therefore the amount of funds raised - will shrink.
Are charities concerned about the potential impact? Should the not-for-profit sector be involved in the debate? Let's start talking: #charitymail
As Australia Post struggles to adapt to a changing communications environment, floated solutions to a dire financial situation could be a serious threat to the not-for-profit sector.
Recently, Aus Post Chairman, John Stanhope, suggested that a service charge to receive daily deliveries could be implemented to help pay for a $218m deficit, which is largely the result of fewer letters being posted. The move would result in many Australians accepting a less frequent service, which would hurt businesses and charities as well as individuals.
Let’s look at it from Mr Stanhope’s point of view. As the volume of post shifts to parcels rather than letters, and the effectiveness and importance of online increases, surely mail is less important, right?
"If you want it fast, you pay for it," Mr Stanhope said. "You want it more related to the cost base, so if you are happy enough for your letter to be delivered less frequently then you pay less, if you want it more frequent you pay more”
Unfortunately this point of view is a generalisation and it ignores the function of mail as a service in the public interest.
Millions of Australians still rely on post to receive and pay bills, to be informed of government and community announcements or keep up to date with notices of local infrastructure and service changes. Most households aren’t aware when this information is coming or whether it’s important or not – so how can they be made responsible for it?
The risk is that the importance of the frequency of that communication might not be clear to the recipient; people who choose not to pay for daily mail might be negatively impacted.
The ABC makes an important argument about the negative impact on low-income earners and people living in regional areas. But the consequences of ‘user-pays mail’ could have significance across demographic and geographic boundaries.
Being someone who checks his post box once a week, I personally don’t see value in receiving daily deliveries – so I’m unlikely to pay for it – and I’m not motivated to look at the potential impact on my household financially or socially. I will almost certainly receive less frequent bill payment reminders or community information notices – this could cost me financially and limit opportunities for me to be involved with my local community.
While mail is still important to such a large proportion of the population; so long as individuals open and read almost all the mail they receive; Australia Post will remain a vital national provider of communication. This message needs to be communicated to Mr Stanhope and Australia Post to ensure this model, or approaches like it, are not adopted now or in the future.
Those of you lucky enough to have attended an international fundraising conference will hopefully agree with me: despite facing unique environmental challenges in our respective markets; despite having a very different understanding of what constitutes food; despite speaking different languages – including our American friends who are yet to discover English – we find it immensely valuable to share our fundraising learnings. I’ve gleaned much more from this experience than I expected. I really didn’t expect so much information to be transferable across borders.
I’d like to share some of the donor stewardship take-aways. None of them are new, but it’s very helpful to be reminded of their potential and to know that their effectiveness is universal. With any luck you will see some value in these. I’d be keen to hear your thoughts.
1. Encourage charities to collect all data – including complaints and questions
o Donors who phone or mail with a grievance or question are often passionate supporters and details of their communication with the charity should be recorded and used
o For example, preferences for particular premiums, areas of the charity’s work, reasons for supporting, a grandchild’s name etc.
o Complaints and questions can and should be followed-up with a low involvement action designed to engage them further with the cause
o We could design an off-the-shelf survey with questions about their satisfaction with the experience and thank them for their concern
2. Encourage response by re-sending the donor the premium they were recruited on
o This is the premium that is most likely to motivate them – particularly true with lower value donors who are more likely to be those most incentivised
o Use as an anti-attrition tactic – perhaps on the anniversary of their recruitment
o Premiums are consumable items which need to be replaced after a period of time
3. Use the welcome pack to outline what the mailing cycle will be
o If a donor understands the process and is encouraged to be part of it, will it increase loyalty?
o It might make donors feel that they’re not obligated to respond. If they don’t feel obliged they might be less likely to feel harassed and therefore more encouraged to read the letter (and subsequently donate)
o Would this strategy improve long-term value?
Very keen to hear your thoughts.
Fundraising law says “keep the proposition single minded”. This applies to the response mech which usually has a straight, uncomplicated ask. It certainly applies to the letter which will include ask after ask – each denoting the same value, need and target etc.
However, there isn’t such a rule for thank you letters.
Why is “thank you” the only thing we are allowed to say in a thank you communication? Why can’t we use the letter to say other things too?
The answer is we can. There is no evidence to suggest that it’s the wrong thing to do.
Yes, we should produce strategic tests. Lots of them. So I would like to challenge everyone to turn the humble, single purposed thank you letter into a stewardship device, income generator or conversion tool.
1. Bequests - Include a bequest reference in the PS of the thank you letter
i. A cost effective reminder for the most loyal donors (i.e. the ones who respond) to include the charity when they next review their will: “Please remember to include us in your Will”.
2. Survey – ask the donor questions. Engagement = loyalty
i. Ask the donor what they think. Use that information next time you communicate with them
ii. Ask them what inspires them and encourage involvement with the cause on a non-financial level
iii. Collect information for hyper-personalisation opportunities
3. RG Conversion - Include a conversion ask
i. We’ve employed this strategy sparingly – one example was at Peter Mac – but we need to do more to show its effectiveness (or ineffectiveness)
4. Donation forms – include a form and BRE
i. Including a form will raise more income.
ii. It doesn’t need to be overt to elicit response. One suggestion is to include an explanation in the PS: “many supporters call my colleagues to ask us to send them a donation form. We’ve included one here for you so you can make a donation and its cheaper for us to do it this way.”
iii. The form need not be large because the objective is different. It might be effective as DL.
iv. The form could be generic looking – something off the shelf which the charity already uses.
v. The PS could reference a feedback form that sits on the reverse of the donation form. The donation form might not even be referenced.
vi. The emphasis of the donation ask can be dialed up or down depending on the objective and appetite for risk. For instance, the form not have a donation capture, but rather a feedback form which people can send back in the BRE. This will raise income.
5. Other ideas?
It would be great to hear your thoughts and opinions.
As humans we like to be acknowledged and there is no doubt that referring to me as an individual trumps being treated like a number. But can we do better? Can we connect with supporters and engage them beyond the rational - references like the date I first donated - or more personal than using the name of my dog or cat?
Maybe we could learn a thing or two from the commercial sector – specifically the hotel industry. At a recent stay in a boutique hotel (which I could afford based on a special rate) a handwritten note was waiting for me in my room.
My emotional response was to feel special and a little bit important. The gesture differentiated my experience of this hotel from others I had stayed in. It’s clearly a better choice than the hotel with the moldy shower and the concierge with tomato sauce stains on his tie. And in such a comparison – assuming similar price points – it’s the clear winner.
However, does this hotel compare favourably to hotels of a similar calibre; boutique hotels which also employ tried and tested tactics to engage customers with a personal touch? How does that handwritten note - and the ethically sourced, Fairtrade chocolate sitting on my pillow - compare to my experience in a competitor’s hotel?
Let’s bring it back to fundraising: how will the handwritten with-comps-slip from CEO ‘A’ compare to the note from CEO ‘B’? Both organisations are sophisticated enough to know that I’ve supported their cause for three years and they each know the name of my dog (Rover). Each CEO is profoundly grateful for my support and hopes that I’ll donate again today. What will differentiate my experience of one organisation from the other?
What if CEO ‘A’ had notes from every conversation I’d ever had with the charity and those notes were used to inspire a more engaging message or a more valuable phone call? If we knew a grandchild’s name or the age of their children would we use that information? Knowledge of a changed address or Rover’s visit to the vet might provide a good conversation topic or an opportunity to ask further questions. Undoubtedly supporter service teams speak to people everyday who share such information and who would be more deeply engaged with a signatory who treated them like a person – not a donor.
When I checked out of the hotel I had the welcome note in my hand with the intention to ask the concierge how the process worked. Before I was able to broach the subject he asked me: “were you happy with the window in your room, Mr Bailey?” Apparently in a phone conversation three weeks earlier I had mentioned that I prefer a room with a window and this information was available to him the moment I told him my room number. On my third stay I was asked if I needed anything printed ahead of my presentation and if the busy tax appeal workload had eased up yet.
The point to this discussion isn’t that personal engagement is important. For me, the lesson we can learn is in the system employed by the hotel. An emotionally engaging approach needs to be systematically structured to ensure information is collected and used effectively. Team members need to be trained to engage supporters and to intuitively record conversations. And a CEO needs to subscribe to the approach and embrace it.
Most organisations use personalisation in their fundraising - many are very good at it. However, as more charities move into the boutique bracket of emotional engagement, the difference between charity A and charity B will be the information they collect and the way it’s used. If you want a supporter’s experience to stand out from the sauce-stained ties, or for your CEO to mention more than Rover’s name, develop a systematic approach to emotional engagement.
He is in absolute command; listening, but waiting for her to finish. The palm of his hand leaves a red impression on his face before it is his turn to tell a story, to share another interesting anecdote. Having already eaten that morning, he orders a slice of cherry pie. She orders a sandwich. Not a good sign for the balance, or indeed the health of this early relationship - he didn’t care enough about the date to avoid spoiling his appetite. She laughs without restraint at the one liners that burgeon from his unkempt face between forkfuls of pie, while she has barely touched her sandwich.
She has been playing out the occasion in her head for the past week: vetting the location, deciding what to eat and what to wear; rehearsing how she would laugh, the stories she would share and at what point in the meeting she would invite him to join her at a beer garden she knows, where they can get to know each other better.
One half of her sandwich will be left, pieces of a torn sugar sachet will be in a neat little pile on his side of the table. At the beer garden, the afternoon sun will go to their heads like champagne as they fuel their inhibitions, and show each other their cards in a game that will end with a proposition, an assertion of their values, intoxicated and vulgar. Her cards are naïve, his deceitful.
How famous does someone need to be before it’s awkward? I feel awkward – does he? I can’t help looking over; I want to know what he is wearing, what he’s has ordered and which coffee he prefers. But I don’t know why...
There are moments when I can see it in his eyes; he’s convinced he has the worst of it off. But then he’ll look more closely and see they’re still green. His evenings are often spent scrubbing at the skin; scratching at the surface and digging fingernails across pores to provoke a raw, red tinge to his emerald knees.
Contrast and colour fills the street. People of every sound and scent navigate the asphalt and concrete. From the over perfumed, to those in body odour denial; from fitness-fetished lycra lads, to the mobility scooter pilots in their ugg boot slippers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an assortment of flavours and personalities. A sense of conviction and identity is intense in every character and it’s worn like a flag as they go about their business on Chapel street.
There are elderly blokes in Akubra hats and wayfarer sunnies. Muscle cars with engines screaming will stop to let them cross and we’ll all hear a few bars of Working Class Man. The down-and-out ask politely for loose change with out-stretched hats and sunny faces. While further down, buskers play El Condor Pasa on wooden flutes
The aroma of espresso seduces the under-caffeinated and over worked. Business suits share tables with rockabilly parents who sip foamy mugs through pierced lips opposite quiff-topped kids. They will choose the environment that best defines them. Skinny tie or fat; skinny laté or flat white. Embracing the culture, I’ll pick another corner café, with another unusual name. The dark timbre of the room will be complemented with unexpected objects moonlighting as décor.
Sharing caffeine addictions and similar upper-inflections in their accents, the pretentious will mix with those who don’t take themselves too seriously; high-visibility vests will sit next to tweed coats; black will rub shoulders with white - and they’ll celebrate Melbourne in the best way they know how.
Galahs are everywhere. The air is congested with their shrill, disturbing squawking, and when you walk through the park, you need to be careful not to step on the slower of the flock as they waddle across the grass in search of seed.
There's a serious design fault to the construction of galahs; a problem with their centre of gravity. When the bird takes a step, it leans to one side - but its mass lags behind, so that the next step will always begin before the first foot has taken the majority of the weight. It moves like a confused pendulum.
One evening, I sat and watched a galah at the top of a tree, at the very highest point where a few stray branches stretched up out of the hulk of the trunk. It balanced on the tip of that branch; on a twig that was so small, the bird could only grasp it with a single digit of its cumbersome claw. It swayed and bobbed like a buoy in a storm. Every few seconds it would beat its wings violently to avoid falling from the petite perch.
White galahs are so prevalent they blanket the cricket oval like snow. They dwarf the more attractive pink and grey galahs with both numbers and decibels. They fly awkwardly and wander precariously from one end of the park to the other, filling the sky with strange cries like strangling noises. There are so many that they are now considered a pest. It’s a shame that such an interesting, absurd creature can become common enough to be a nuisance.