In my last job, a donor had to create a login just to make a donation. Would you do that?
Imagine reading an appeal that pulls at your heartstrings. You feel inspired to give. You click the donate button, ready to make a difference, and suddenly you're being asked to create an account, establish a password, and jump through a few more hoops.
All you wanted to do was give someone your money.
This reminds me of what's happening with Airbnb.
I've loved the concept of Airbnb since it launched. I was even a host back in 2009 and made a nice bit of money doing it. What made Airbnb so appealing was the opportunity to explore a city differently. Instead of staying in another hotel with its corporate beige walls and predictable furniture, you could find a charming space with character, personality, and a connection to the surrounding community. It was personal. It was different. And it was fun.
Fast-forward to my most recent Airbnb stay.
I couldn't find the coffee maker, so I contacted the host. He hurried over, Keurig in hand. Great! Problem solved. Except when I opened the machine to insert my coffee pod, I discovered old water, dirt, and hair. Apparently, cleaning the coffee maker wasn't on the host’s checklist.
Before my depature, I read the check-out handbook (yes, that’s right) and the lengthy list of checkout instructions I was expected to follow before leaving. After this I thought, This is the last time I'm doing all this work just to take a little vacation.
Somewhere along the way, the experience had become more about the host's convenience than the guest's.
And I think nonprofits risk doing exactly the same thing.
Starting with a promise of community.
Airbnb offered an alternative to traditional hotels. It wasn't simply about finding a cheaper room. It was about experiencing a place differently and connecting more closely with the community you were visiting.
Nonprofits have a similar promise. For generations, nonprofits have brought people together to address needs, advance causes, and build communities in ways that government and businesses cannot always accomplish.
Alexis de Tocqueville famously observed the American tendency to form associations, recognizing the extraordinary power of people coming together around shared interests and collective action. At their best, nonprofits create opportunities for people to participate in something bigger than themselves.
And isn't that what we're offering donors?
Not simply a transaction, but a relationship. An opportunity to connect with a mission, contribute to a community, and make a difference.
When the systems become more important than the people.
Over time, Airbnb evolved. What started as individuals sharing their homes became an opportunity for investors, property managers, and professional hosts to generate revenue. There's nothing inherently wrong with making money or running a professional operation. But something changes when maximizing revenue and minimizing effort become more important than creating a meaningful experience.
Suddenly, guests are paying cleaning fees while being handed a list of cleaning chores.
Nonprofits aren't immune to this same problem. As organizations grow, we create more systems, more procedures, and more expectations about how people should engage with us.
I remember talking to our tech guy about how event ticket buyers couldn’t navigate the system and he blamed the problem on them and not on the tech stack.
We ask donors to create accounts before making gifts. We send thank-you notes two weeks after a donation. We solicit another gift before we've meaningfully acknowledged the first one. We want people to give their time and expect them to jump when the nonprofit is ready.
And then we wonder why they don't come back.
Consider this: According to Bloomerang's donor retention research, only about 45% of donors give again from one year to the next. For first-time donors, retention is typically closer to 20%.
Think about that. Roughly four out of five first-time donors don't return the following year.
There are plenty of reasons someone might not make another gift. But we should at least be asking whether the experience we created gave them a reason to return.
Have we become so focused on processing donations that we've forgotten to make giving a meaningful experience?
Your donors didn't sign up to do your chores.
Here's where I think the Airbnb comparison really matters. I don't mind being asked to respect someone's home. And I certainly don't mind being invited to experience a new community. But if I'm paying to stay somewhere, I don't expect to spend my vacation doing the host's work.
Likewise, donors aren't opposed to getting involved with nonprofits.
In fact, I believe some of the strongest donor relationships develop when people are invited to do more than give money. They volunteer, advocate, introduce friends, and become champions for the mission.
But there's a difference between meaningful participation and unnecessary work.
Asking someone to bring a friend to an event is an invitation to deepen a relationship. Asking someone to establish a username and password just to make a $50 donation is a barrier.
One creates connection. The other creates frustration.
And when we repeatedly put our own convenience ahead of the people we want to engage, we slowly erode the trust that brought them to us in the first place.
So here's my invitation.
Take a moment to experience your nonprofit the way a first-time donor would.
Try making a donation on your website. How many steps does it take? What happens after you give? How quickly are you thanked? And what opportunities exist to become more connected beyond that initial gift?
Are you making it easier for people to belong, or harder for them to participate?
Because if your nonprofit makes it difficult for people to connect, get involved, or give, don't be surprised when they decide to stay somewhere else.
Your donors want to make a difference. They don't want to do a bunch of extra work just to make the world a better place.