The checkout charity ambush
It really is better to give than receive, but when that giving is foisted on you without warning at a retail checkout its motivation is just as likely shame as altruism.
The rise of checkout charity is the inevitable love child of an increasingly cashless society and the growing awareness among profit-driven corporations that being associated with a socially compassionate organisation is good for business.
On paper it’s a beautifully rare win-win scenario. Except that for every customer who appreciates the convenience of charity at a retail outlet, there’s another who feels ambushed into giving.
After all, what would the people behind them in the supermarket queue think if they were too stingy to round up their bill to the nearest dollar to benefit a cancer charity?
Indeed, how generously would those people judge their character if they casually asked the checkout operator to add an extra $5, $10 or $15 to the bill.
Checkout charity is here because it works. That it works in large part because it plays on our social insecurities is not an unexpected side-effect. The effect is relied upon to bring about the desired giving behaviour. This is not unprecedented. Street collectors apply the same sort of pressure. No-one wants to appear mean.
But one downside of this type of captured giving is we lose, or feel rushed into forgoing, the opportunity to scrutinise the fine-print that underpins our donations.
How much of the money actually goes to the charity, whether the retailer takes a cut or matches the donations, or if it even adheres to the values of
the charity it’s supporting, is often unknown at the time of the transaction. Which is when that information matters.
There is no easy way around this. Facts about how your donation is used, and why, could take up half your day, even if you knew where to find this information. Instead we rely on the trust we have in a particular charity and give it the benefit of the doubt that the money will be spent wisely on the people who need it. If an equally trusted retail brand is supporting them, that adds to our confidence.
That’s admirable of us, but hopelessly naive. Charities are far from immune from making appalling decisions. And that trusted-brand status didn’t come about by itself. It required years, maybe even decades, of advertising and marketing strategies. None of which was free.
Individual New Zealanders collectively give about $3 billion a year to charity, and hundreds of millions of that is spent by the charity on the business of being a charity. Operating costs can soak up as much as 5 to 30 per cent of the donation, but some barely break even.
In that respect the attraction of giving at point of sale is its cost effectiveness. It requires no street collectors, no TV campaign, and no-one calling you up at home asking you for financial support.
Instead it asks you to add a handful of cents to a bill you’re already in the process of paying. You probably won’t even notice you’ve given.
Even if you don’t give, the judgment you feel from fellow customers is imaginary. This is 2019. It’s far more likely they’re too busy on their phone to take any notice of you.
The attraction of giving at point of sale is its cost effectiveness. It requires no street collectors, no TV campaign, and no-one calling you up at home.