You know what really frosts my flakes?
Rounding up purchases for charity.
Everywhere I go now, some little screen spins around asking if I’d like to round up my purchase to the nearest dollar for charity.
I buy a pack of gum and suddenly I’m expected to solve world hunger before my receipt prints.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all for helping worthwhile causes. But, let’s stop pretending these giant corporations are making some heroic sacrifice.
The money isn’t coming out of their profits. It’s coming out of my wallet.
Yet, somehow the company sends out a glowing press release bragging about how it “donated” $50,000 to the National Alliance for Emotional Support Hamsters or whatever charity they picked this month. How generous.
They act like the CEO personally sold a yacht to help underprivileged penguins.
Meanwhile, all they really did was stand near the cash register with their hand out like a digital panhandler.
At least the old Salvation Army kettles made sense.
You heard the bell. You tossed in some coins and you knew exactly where your money was going. There was something honest about it.
Now it’s just a button on a screen. You hit “yes,” your credit card gets dinged for another 73 cents and some accountant in corporate headquarters pushes two buttons at the end of the month and calls it philanthropy.
And let’s be honest, most people aren’t even donating anymore. They’re just trying to make the checkout screen stop judging them.
Nothing makes you feel guiltier than a touchscreen suggesting you hate sick children because you declined to round up 41 cents.
And how do I even know the money made it to the charity? For all I know, it funded Brenda from accounting’s “team-building margarita retreat.”
Here’s an idea. If these companies really want to look generous, how about they round DOWN my purchase instead?
If my total comes to $19.87, make it $19 even and donate the 87 cents yourselves.
Now you’ve got skin in the game.
I guarantee customers would cheer louder for that than another corporate press release featuring a giant ceremonial check and six executives pretending they discovered compassion five minutes ago.
I’m Grandpa Grumpy and apparently every cash register in America is now a tiny nonprofit organization.
