(Open) the envelope, please!
Why letters from your nonprofit go unopened
& into the trash, and several ways to change that
My family usually shops for groceries with canvas bags that I pick up at conferences. I just got a beauty last week in San Antonio from Vanguard: big and strong with a zippered top. It could hold a whole watermelon, easy.
But every third or fourth week we ask the checkout clerk to use paper bags instead. We use those to recycle newspapers, pizza boxes, my son's homework assignments, and about 99.5% of the direct mail we get, unopened. I've taken a tip from my pal Kim and now just sort new mail directly over the recycling bag. Saves clutter.
Sure, a lot of the direct mail is from credit card companies, national exercise chains, and local driveway pavers. A good half, though, is from nonprofits and, even in my modestly generous home, nine out of 10 new appeals go unopened into the recycling bag.
I hate to say it, but yours may have been one of them. Too bad. With very little cost, effort, and imagination, you could have gotten me to at least open the envelope. Then who knows what might have happened!
"Your first competitor is indifference"
So says branding expert Harry Beckwith. A boring envelope signals boring contents. Sadly, experience has proven that true. Just one more lackluster appeal for money.
Do you open those letters at your house? Me neither.
I'm not saying your cause isn't just or essential because you don't create a compelling envelope. Of course not. But even your sweetheart will get tired of seeing you in the same old ratty jeans and T-shirt every day.
Here are some examples that went right into recycling after I scanned them for you to see.
Okay, the above is obvious. I get three or four credit card offers a day. Easily identifiable, easily tossed. I guess banks are still nailing some people, though.
I'm pretty disappointed in Consumer Reports (logo on opposite side). Getting reliable information is harder than making healthcare decisions? Really? That's just silly.
This is pretty typical of nonprofits. DAV assumes its name alone will get me to open the envelope. So, it thinks, it can get away with an impersonal mailing label and an unprofessional return address. (It's trying to appear low cost, I suspect, though I can see it's coming from a national office in Cincinnati.) Because of its strong brand, DAV is successful in many households, but I bet it could be more so.
Again, a great cause: summer camperships for inner city kids (no, not Terry Gross' show on National Public Radio). But, whoopee! I can give to a year-end appeal! That's exciting.
Love the organization. I used to share a bathroom with them (and 12 other grassroots groups) about 30 years ago in a decrepit building. But if I didn't know JWJ, I'd toss the envelope in a second. I'm not the least bit curious what's inside.
Another famous name, with a see-through envelope label. But you and I know there's some slick marketing piece inside that reads just like every other national organization. First I wonder how much they are paying for this mailing. Then I toss it. Your nonprofit has the advantage here; you can be personal.
Okay, fewer words, more examples
Direct mail is a science, not an art. As such, marketers test everything about an envelope:
- Color and quality of paper
- shape and size of envelope
- postage stamp or bulk mail indicia (Herschell Gordon Lewis, Direct Mail Copy That Sells, recommends a postage meter)
- "teaser" (Robert Bly, The Copywriter's Handbook, says "no teaser" unless it's really good; a rare place where he's outdated)
- typeface (gotten any 'hand-addressed' mail yet?)
Truth is, some methods work until consumers catch on to them. Then direct mail marketers have to find something new.
Here are some current samples that made me at least stop and think. Most should fit into reasonable budgets; you just have to print the envelope.
"Hey, I get something for free" (benefits)
The following envelopes appeal to most people's desire to get some kind of benefit (other than moral) from giving to your organization. You do have stuff to offer: maps of great hiking trails, 10 tips on choosing a doctor, a down-to-earth explanation of charitable giving. No, you're not selling your soul to the devil by "selling" your nonprofit. Words you might find yourself using: "free" and "enclosed". Robert Bly suggests you include something that can be felt in the envelope. It doesn't have to be expensive, something like a calendar magnet.
(If you look closely, you can see when I've torn open an envelope. I'm not very neat.)
There are two "benefits" above. One is the grocery voucher. The other is the ability to double your gift through a matching challenge. As a donor, I feel like I've been given an opportunity to do more for the same price.
Not surprisingly, some statistics show that free tote bags, stuffed animals, and other giveaways lead to short, superficial relationships.
"What the heck is inside?" (curiosity)
Some envelopes raise questions whose answers you just have to know, but can only find inside.
What's worse than coming after you with "everything they've got?" I want to know!
Whatever your position on the issues, Planned Parenthood knows envelopes!
I know it's a business, and I use a competitor. But what could possibly be "The Ultimate Offer"? Note the ripped envelope.
Sometimes it's just the peculiarity of the envelope that makes you think there's something special inside. Here's a paper bag from the United Farm Workers.
"I'm special" (exclusivity)
Making donors feel they are part of an elite group leads directly to the largest gifts (in many cases). Herschell Gordon Lewis says four words work here: "private", "advance", "invitation", and "exclusive".
I was just out of college when I got my first select "invitation" from the Smithsonian. (It was written on papyrus with sheep's blood.) Back then I was specially invited to join the Smithsonian Society. Glad to see I'm still part of a "select group".Note too that the Smithsonian offers "exclusivity" and "benefits" ("2 free thank you gifts") on one envelope.
I have friends in high places. I regularly get mail from the Clintons, Barack, and Jimmy Carter. Used to get mail from the late great Paul Newman, now it comes from his wife Joanne Woodward. I get letters from famous writers and Lee Iacocca. Says so, right on the envelope. Jealous?
Doesn't get any more obvious than this, does it? My son scored quite high on the SATs (must get it from his mother) and we have been getting four or five letters like this every day for six months. A good time to give a shout out to the National Center for Fair & Open Testing (FairTest), which has been fighting the inherent racism and sexism of standardized testing for at least 25 years. I take every opportunity to credit Bob Schaeffer as one of the two most important mentors in my professional life. Hey Bob!
Two more examples of how colleges are trying to turn my son's head.
"Uh, oh!" (fear)
A different kind of fear. This IRS-like envelope had no further identifying information on the reverse side. It was from the local Subaru dealership. (Comes in a brown version, too.) My next car was a Honda.
"To dream the impossible dream!" (a call to arms)
Nonprofits should excel at enthusiastically stating the essential challenge. That's what makes the boring envelopes above so unforgiveable. Tell the prospective supporter what he or she is fighting for.
"I'm so embarrassed" (guilt)
Guilt: the gift that keeps on giving. I know LOTS of nonprofit folks who truly believe that everybody who is not supporting their cause should feel guilty. I almost always find that the nonprofit just hasn't made its case well.
That said, guilt can be used in strange ways. Here are a couple:
Are you really going to ignore this plea? Aren't we somehow responsible? (And if this doesn't work, you can get the free plush toy on the other side, shown above.)
First of all, there's no way I'm throwing away an envelope that has money showing. (No problem tossing the address labels.) But it seems that lots of donors simply feel obligated (another shade of guilt) to send a donation in exchange for the nickel. Personally, I can get the nickel out of the envelope without unleashing (too much) guilt.
A few other ideas
Other envelopes I've seen but just didn't have handy:
- blank except for the recipient's handwritten address
- a personal note (in real ink) on the envelope
- way oversized envelopes
Your turn
There's very little about the envelopes above that you can't tailor and re-create economically for your nonprofit of almost any size. Follow these steps:
- Know the dramatic selling points of your cause
- Package the information your nonprofit can share
- Understand the motivations of your donors
- Save sample envelopes you love (and hate)
- Test ideas on your friends and family. Don't give them more than four seconds to look at the envelope.
- Devote the time and resources necessary to make the envelope work.
And please send me some samples via email or snail mail!
New book review on the website: case statements
Speaking of knowing your cause, your nonprofit, and your donors' motivations, those are essential elements of a case statement, and every nonprofit must have one. Tom Ahern has written one of his wonderfully-readable and useable books, Seeing Through A Donor's Eyes, which I've reviewed in Marketing Resources.
Also, new Philanthropy Tidbits: odd pieces of charitable news.
Next e-Blast: Are you fair to your women donors?
Rick
