When you sent me your first fundraising letter asking me to continue my generous support, I really, really wanted to but the $3.75 left over from my paycheck fell through the hole in my pocket. Sorry.
The second letter from you came at a great time—right on payday. I was all set to continue my generous support but low and behold, our ’91 Geo needed new tires, struts, an engine, and a timing belt. Oh yah, and the cardboard in my kid’s shoes was wearing thin so we had to get him new ones. I’m sure you understand why we couldn’t send you any money that time either.
Your third letter was pretty urgent, I’m guessing, what with all the italicized words and the use of CAPITALS and BOLD lettering. I was really struck when you USED ALL THREE. But the thing is, that month was bad too. We couldn’t afford groceries anymore so we went and got ourselves a goat and some llamas. I was thinking I could milk ’em, shave ’em and weave ’em but I couldn’t find shears or a loom at the Goodwill.
I got your fourth letter today—the one saying that our generous annual support has lapsed and that we’re no longer on your active contributor list. Ouch. If I could afford a belt to hold up my pants your letter would hurt just below that. I’m touched that the loss of our support pains you. It’s funny, actually, that you ask in the letter if there’s a problem you can easily resolve for us...because you can.
It’s called “I’d like last year’s donation back.” Your $100 reimbursement of my donation is vital to all aspects of my household. You can make my livelihood possible. I urge you to send our money back so that I may include your name on our active Christmas card list. Thank you in advance for your support of my efforts to feed and clothe my family.
P.S. For your convenience, I’ve enclosed a self-addressed envelope. Sorry there’s no stamp. The goat ate it.