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Occupational Hazard 1:
Wherever you go, the money will follow.
Once you become a program officer, it has been frequently quipped,
you will never have a bad meal or a bad idea. People will accommodate
you lavishly, even shamelessly. After all, they reason, you do
appear to hold the purse strings. (Why not laugh at your jokes,
echo your opinions, massage your vanity?) Even in the most open
and honest relationships, the money will stick by your side—the
silent partner in all conversations.
The money also serves as an unofficial
bodyguard. Like it or not, you are now shielded from criticism’s
more pointed barbs, some of which might inspire (or otherwise
motivate) improvements in your foundation’s methods and your
own job performance. People may gripe about not getting a grant,
but they are unlikely to recite in penetrating detail your philanthropic
failings. Too dangerous. That means the onus for improvement-through-self-criticism
falls squarely, exclusively, on you. It can be a heavy burden.
You will also find out who your friends
are. (Hint: They are probably not the people you once vaguely
knew in another life who now seem so terribly interested in lunching
and schmoozing.) Suddenly, everybody wants something from you;
they want the money. This can prove a jarring, even hurtful experience.
You may find yourself thinking twice before showing up in public.
(“Will my presence at Saturday’s concert elicit an unwanted
grant proposal on my desk Monday morning?”) You will endure
a deluge of invitations for social events that are actually bids
for business contacts.
Try not to take it personally. Recognize
that the job, after all, is only the job. Concentrate on your
family, your tried and trusted friends. Admit to yourself that
your sudden overwhelming popularity owes much to the proximity
of potential riches. Remind yourself that the enormous expectations
of grantseekers are often linked to their vision of a better world—something
you share. Strive to remain gracious in the face of their hope,
fear and urgency. Resolve to lead as normal a professional life
as possible.
Occupational Hazard 2: The power.
As a conduit to the money that now dogs your every step, you will
also be accompanied by a sizeable dose of power. There is no way
around this. For all the talk about “partnership” and
“collaboration”—ideals toward which you should
genuinely strive—you must finally admit that in every encounter
with grantseekers, you hold most of the cards.
There is nothing inherently wrong with
this arrangement; it is life. The problems arise when you fail
or refuse to acknowledge the disparity in power that separates
you and the people seeking your support.
Some foundation people succumb to power
poisoning. They indulge themselves in arrogant behavior that the
rest of the world rightly perceives to be crude, insensitive and
ridiculous. (We recently heard about a program officer who proudly
proclaimed her habit of tossing out any proposal that had misspelled
her name. If this is not the height of reckless arrogance, it
is certainly reaching for the loftier peaks.) Beware of colleagues
who brag about their intolerance, impatience and impossibly high
standards.
Also keep in mind: It is not your money.
Do not over-identify with your professional role. You are only
watching over your foundation’s wealth until somebody else
can be found who will put it to best use.
There is also another kind of arrogance,
less obvious and perhaps more insidious. It is the arrogance of
dispensing gratuitous advice. The temptation can be great. Grantseekers
will always listen politely and agree with you even when they
suspect that you don’t know what you are talking about. (Worse
yet is the situation where grantseekers follow your advice because
they presume that you have expertise you just do not possess.)
Give advice sparingly, if at all. And if you do offer your insights,
be very sure that you speak from a solid base of knowledge.
Occupational Hazard
3:
Other people’s expectations.
To many nonprofits, the method and manner by which foundations
make their decisions appears mysterious, if not downright mystical.
Given this state of confusion, coupled with the ferocious competition
for grants, some organizations will reshape their goals and programs
into an illogical pretzel in hopes of conforming to your desires.
If your guidelines are loose, gauzy, allusive and imprecise, you
are guaranteed that large numbers of nonprofits will contort themselves
in this manner.
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