Chuggers in Christmas Market of UK

Here I also enjoy the regular extra entertainment of musicians busking: played-to-death guitar ballads and sickening Xmas tunes. Bagpipe-man can play for 5 hours without a pause and he is just not running out of breath, cares little of my opinion that his instrument would only be appropriate for a hilltop well isolated form any human settlement. He goes on and on as if he was in charge of making all the revenues of Help for Heroes, a charity organization supporting wounded army personnel.

 He is just one of the many who use the space in front of my chalet to collect donations for a good cause. The ones who fascinate me the most are the so-called chuggers (from charity muggers), the infamous face-to-face fund-raisers who appear as common obstacles on UK high streets. Their method is to stop people passing by and engage them in conversations about the campaign of the NGO they work for -like Oxfam or Friends of the Earth- and ask them to sign up to donate a certain amount monthly via direct bank transfers. Most of the chuggers are in their early 20’s and have been recruited and trained professionally. They are shiny, happy and possess an immense amount of energy.

 A curious phenomena which I follow with varied attention, the many different strategies of these hyper youngsters. Initially I would think theirs is the worst job possible with the amount of refusal they have to cope with per minute and I expect them to break down by the end of the hour. But they complete the day without losing enthusiasm and Greenpeace-girl manages to talk everyone’s head off. I had always thought they were paid by commission until I found out that most of them earn up to a fix £9-10 an hour, which is a pretty good wage here.

Their body language is well planned: their gestures are wide, they target the coming passer-by from as far as they can, leaving enough time for the unavoidable interaction and never miss having the last word after they are turned down. They all strike a different note: there is polite chugger: “Hi Sir, may I speak to you 30 seconds?” reaching out for a handshake. There is emotional blackmailer: “Do you ever think about doing something for charity? No?! HAVE A GOOD DAY!”

There is trickster chugger: “Hey you! I’m so glad you’ve come to see me this morning!” and flatterer: “Wow, I like your jumper! Where did you get it from?” and even flirty chugger who looks deeply in your eyes and says: “You look ravishingly beautiful today.” These guys are shameless. They try everything to meet their target which is often as modest as getting 8 people sign up to donate £5 a month, that is less than the price of two cups of coffee in town.

A few years ago the chuggers still carried folders and paper forms. Now they are flashing tablet computers which can be drawn from their backpack any time to demonstrate with images and easily link to the registration procedures.

I watch sceptically as their objective seems mission impossible to me, the most people I ask -as if it was not obvious enough to see- are fed up with the chuggers and they would never stop. But I am wrong again, obviously I have no business instinct: street fund-raising is in fact the most important revenue for the biggest non-profit organizations. In the UK they register 600.000 new regular donations per year, making £120m annually. It allows them to plan their campaigns ahead, while many of the chuggers move on to make a career in the charity sector.

But why should people pay an agent on top of an organization to get their money to the place intended? Although the up to 25p cost of raising a pound is a much better ratio than the 50-50 that the homeless distributor of the The Big Issue magazine gets after each copy sold. I buy every new edition supporting the idea, however the content is poor and the main thing I get for my money is dozens of other appeals for more of my money by other charitable organizations.

The Big Issue (In the North as it is called in and around Sheffield) printed with the motto Working not begging on its front cover as if judging those who do so when there is already a lot of tension about this topic in the society. So anyway, then it is British Red Cross and Save the Children who is begging on the streets while obviously Help for Heroes is working: blowing and blowing the bagpipe.

Most of the people in need opt for performing instead of just asking for coins. Balkan-gypsies play jingle-bells on battered accordions, a man regularly sculptures sand into life-sized doggies on the pavement. My square sees more and more action as Christmas comes nearer, now passer-byes wear tacky festive jumpers (that is another weird English sport) and pudding hats, fund-raisers put on reindeer horns, Santa, the polar bear and transvestite elves carry the money-bucket for medical research, old people and animal shelters. Christian missionaries almost strike up a fist-fight with pick-and-mix sweets guy upon the argument on refusing to move their table thus obstructing the view for the candy selection (could have been an interesting punch-up to watch: sheer fat vs. godliness…).

But the chuggers stick to their practiced lines, talk and try tirelessly, it’s like a never ending basketball game since I know that the fund-raiser is only allowed to follow somebody for 3 steps behind, one of the many rules of conduct that they often ignore. I wish they came up with something new, I’m sick and tired of all charity by now. Then a woman walks up to my stall: “Would you like to buy a cake for a good cause?” “Sure.” I sigh. “Give me one.”