The Fundraisers

“Our enrollment never recovered after the pandemic,” Allison James explained, “and the recent tuition increase barely covers the rise in our operating expenses. As you can see, our utilities and insurance costs have outpaced our revenues.”

“Oh, it’s quite evident,” Grayson Sloane agreed, tapping his laptop. The Excel sheet told the familiar sad story. Another non-profit on the ropes with declining income and soaring costs.

“We have sought other sources of income. As you know, our college houses the Babson Collection, and we made arrangements with museums in New York and Chicago to display our impressionists in return for donations, but they. . .”

“You don’t have to elaborate,” Sloan said softly. “It’s difficult for any non-profit these days, especially smaller institutions of higher learning. So, why did you decide to call on us?”

Allison James cleared her throat. “Well, our... our legal consultant, well, actually an acquaintance of hers informed us that Beaumont and Duncan... was... well, our best option... given our situation. We face a deadline. Six years ago, we took a substantial loan to refurbish our main building. This was partially guaranteed by a generous donor, who….”

“I’m aware of what happened. Unfortunate. And the upcoming payment is more than you can cover.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“And it’s due at the end of this week?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Friday by close of business.” She swallowed hard again, gripping the phone.

“I think we can help,” Sloan assured her. “As you know we retain a third of the funds we generate, but we usually provide immediate results.”

Allison James sighed. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“I have all the information I need. The name of the account is the Century Fund?”

“Yes, it’s our centennial year.”

“A good selling point,” Sloane smiled. “And I have proof of your non-profit status, bank information, etc. We can get started this afternoon, and I think we can expect a few donations by this evening. Some earnest money, initial deposits, demonstrations of good faith, that sort of thing.”

Hanging up with the college president, Grayson Sloan tapped out a message that flashed across the dark network that kept Beaumont and Duncan in the black. The eighty-year-old Boston firm had been on the ropes itself, slowly sliding into insolvency until Beaumont’s troubled grandson Charles offered to monetize the extensive connections he’d made during his bumpy journey through twelve-step programs, rehab centers, homeless shelters, jails, halfway houses, and federal penitentiaries.

And so Charlie’s team went to work, bolstered by secretly tapped supercomputers, hacked software, malware, and the latest AI. Their messages went out in phone calls, emails, texts, Zooms, and on a few occasions, personal visits with stunned prospects opening doors to faces they never hoped to see….

“Hello, you probably remember me as Bella from Ashley Madison? We partied at the Hilton in Chicago. Well, no reason for your wife or clients to hear about that. And we can make our arrangement quite legal and fully tax deductible with a simple contribution…”

“Hi, I’m sure those PDF files from two years ago don’t match what you submitted to the IRS. No reason for the government to know about that. And I’m sure your firm could benefit from the goodwill generated by a tax-deductible donation to a ….

“I know this video is distressing, but no one has to see it but us. Looks like it was a wild time. Now I realize that this is a bit of a shock after three years, but we can resolve this issue this evening with a simple tax-deductible donation.”

“I want to congratulate you on winning the primary. You’ll make a great senator. No reason why voters in Colorado should hear about our little party in Miami. By the way, I lied about being eighteen. And I assure you our resolution will be fully tax-deductible. . . .”

The college trustees were relieved by the sudden cash infusion into their Century Fund but wondered why even their most generous donors refused offers of naming rights, declined invitations to testimonial dinners, and insisted on remaining anonymous.