A few days ago, I received a call from a telemarketer representing a national, charitable organization dedicated to eliminating a particular life-threatening disease. As soon as I said “hello”, the 20-something year old voice on the other end of the phone immediately launched into his “Wow, I’ve reached a live person, so I have 60 seconds to make my pitch without letting the other person get a word in edgewise” script. As best as I can recall, he said something like — “Hi…I’m from XYZ Organization and we need you to send out 15 donation cards…” — and I honestly can’t recollect what messaging immediately followed given his hyper-drive delivery style. But I vividly recall how the rest of the conversation unfolded. As he said “Can I send you our packet in the mail today?” – I deliberately took a deep breath, lowered my voice, and in a soft, gentle and polite tone replied “I was just told that my mother, who is in Stage 4 Alzheimer’s, doesn’t have long to live.”

Why would I decide to share such a private, painful slice of my life with a complete stranger at that particular moment in time? Because I thought that by offering a glimpse into my world to a person affiliated with a worthy charity would be a respectful, considerate, thoughtful and patient way to help him understand that now was not the time to engage me in a “Can I 100% count on you to volunteer?” discussion. Admittedly, what occurred next was completely unexpected.