What was the actual day I was first disenchanted? How old was I when I realized people lie… to your face.
I remember I was an innocent for a long time. I believed in everything and everybody. I was certain we, the world, were all working toward a utopia. We were all striving to function as one wonderful community. No one would be poor, hungry, or without access to medical care because nobody wanted that. I don’t know what the epiphany moment was for me. What was the point I realized some people were bad? That because of circumstances or their own true nature, they would steal or kill to benefit themselves. They would disregard the common good for their own self interest.
In the midst of interviewing yesterday, we uncovered our finalist had been in prison. Through a fluke and personal connection, we found out she had been convicted for stealing from the fundraising coffers of her former employers. She was interviewing for a fundraising job at NRS. YIKES! Although she had changed her last name which enabled her to hide from a google search, I received the detrimental information from a personal contact. Thankfully. Even though I believe people deserve a second chance, any nonprofit would have a hard time recovering from a fundraising scandal. Good stewardship is critical to success.
We were all shocked by the betrayal. The woman had snowed… even me.
Back in the day…
The statement – “You have my word.” – was a verbal, solid pact.
A handshake was a legally, binding contract.
“I’m looking you in the eye and telling the truth.” was an infallible declaration of honesty.
…those were the days!
Now, I mostly communicate by email. I want proof of any transaction. If there is a dispute, I access the written banter of the situation. I push for the contract. I want a legally binding document with every specific. As far as relationships, I grow in trust with someone. And when they disappoint or betray me, I respond accordingly.
I don’t have the naivete to think someone will never lie to me. I expect the niceties: “I love your writing.”, “You are so right about Millennials.”, and “You look pretty in that dress.” Thank you…. and fine. I just build my support network with the people I can trust to be honest on the big things.
When I was seven, I believed in Santa Claus. On Christmas Day 1971, my sister Christy took me in the garage to show me discarded boxes. It was her practical proof that Santa didn’t exist. My disenchantment started in that moment. Part of me still believes in flashing glimmers of enchantment. More of me believes in the reality of the situation.