Collecting on the streets for child’s speech, language services not easy By Maura Adshead

I’VE been out shaking the bucket again.

It is a simple but necessary obligation in order to access speech and language services for my daughter. The deal is that we can get the services on the condition that we help to fund raise for them, in order to continue to provide the service. It’s reasonable enough. There are no other services available and so, if you want speech and language therapy, you have to help pay for it. Personally, I’d find a tax deduction at source much easier, but such is the system: families that require the therapeutic services offered by charities in the vacuum left by the State system have to take their turn rattling the bucket.

It’s not easy asking people for money. Even my 9-year-old has recognised this early lesson in life. His requests are generally phrased something like; “I’d really like it if I had…” because he knows that a direct request is a little, well, indelicate I suppose. I toy with the idea of walking up to people with my bucket and saying in a roundabout way; “you know, I’d really like it if there were speech and language therapy services available for children who need them”. But I’m not sure that this approach would be any better.

I’ve been chatting to a security guard where I’m collecting. He used to do a similar kind of job, soliciting interest in local refuse services. We both compared notes about this kind of work. Do you go up and look for attention, or do you sit back and wait? The security guard told me, that in his experience; “they know if they’re going to do it — you can’t make them — you just have to wait for them to come to you”. What sweet relief. A justification for not looking people in the eye and asking them for money. I know that I’ve really not got the hang of it, because when I see people that I know, I’m inclined to look the other way to avoid making them feel awkward. To be honest, I’m just not cut out for this kind of work.

It’s really not nice having to ask people for money. I’m not talking about casual requests for small beans from friends: the “oops I’m in the coffee queue and seem to have forgotten my purse”, or the “buy me lunch and I’ll owe you” routines. Actually I’m quite good at that kind of soliciting. But what I really find difficult is walking the streets and shaking a bucket. It always seems worse to me to be asking on behalf of people I know. I think I could feel ok about collecting for Oxfam or Amnesty International. I don’t personally know anyone in Darfur and I’ve never been to a Pussy Riot gig: but looking for support for victims of conflict and famine; or for basic human rights like the freedom to express poor musical taste, seem very reasonable to me.

The trouble is, when you’re asking for money for your own family, well, for all the Garda permits, the shiny plastic collector jackets, and the stickers, you’re really just begging.

But if you are going to take up begging professionally, then you’ve got to remember that it’s all about the numbers. Nobody likes to slow down by a collector, but they do like to know what they’re collecting for. So you should figure that most people will need to pass a couple of collectors before they decide if they are going to take the plunge. €2 seems to be the going rate — but then you have to work in those who don’t give (about 4 to 1). Still, this seems to be balanced by the beautiful people who drop you a fiver or a tenner — and they’re just never who you think they are. To the driver of the white van who stuck in a tenner; and to the gold-chained gangsta hoodie who gave me €20 — I promise never to judge a book by the cover again! Because of course, I will be doing this again.

Last year myself and himself were put on duty at a road intersection, taking it in turns to trail up and down the lines of waiting cars. In the natural yin and yang of our relationship, there’s some that would have it that I’m the bubbly, outgoing one and he’s the — well, let’s just say he’s more reserved. So it was a bit of a surprise to see him cheerily strutting up and down, smiling at the drivers and enthusiastically rattling his bucket. Full of banter he was. !I on the other hand, was like a sulky child, dawdling up the rows of cars with a shifty sideways look. It rained all day. My trousers stuck to my legs and I discovered a crack in the sole of my shoe.

The weather is a big variable in charity collecting.

This year it was beautiful and sunny and we were both sent to different locations. Himself had a grand little number outside the local shop in one the city’s suburbs. There was a constant passing trade, including lunch take-outs and business. He was set up with a chair in the foyer and a little desk. He’d brought a good book and when there was no one around he was managing a sneaky read under the desk.

I was standing inside a shopping centre and the place was empty. I had no chair and no foyer. My back was aching and I nearly melted in my plastic collector jacket under the glass roof. The only consolation was the prospect of moaning on an epic scale in a national newspaper. This at least was something positive.

EARLIER this month, the high profile cost-saving measure enacted by the children’s charity, Barnardos, drew attention to the difficulties that charities delivering essential services everywhere in Ireland are facing. Confronted by a fall off in public donations and reductions in official funding, Barnardos decided to close down their services for one week in order to save €400,000. Across Ireland, charities and voluntary agencies are facing the same tough decisions. A recent report on the Irish ‘not-for-profit’ sector by Grant Thornton, found that fundraising and financing activities are the most significant issues challenging the Irish non-profit sector.

Though it is often noted that Irish charities are too dependent on State funding, typically receiving around 60% of their income from some kind of State support, the flip side to this, is that the Irish Government also has a dysfunctional dependency on charitable and voluntary organisations to provide a range of basic services. In many cases, the majority of an estimated 7,900 charitable, community and voluntary groups, provide essential public services for the young, the old, the vulnerable and the disabled.

Those who are less directly concerned with the provision of these services have taken news of the current crisis in charities funding as an opportunity to preach about cost saving and organisational efficiencies. Charities can merge to cut costs. Voluntary agencies can learn to govern themselves more effectively and develop better codes of practice. Try telling that to the person shaking the bucket and, for god’s sake, put €2 in as you pass.

* Maura Adshead is Head of Politics and Public Administration at the University of Limerick.