How a Neighborhood Fundraiser Made This CD Eat Her Words

A few months ago, I connected with a fellow Reynoldstowner who was looking for volunteers to join the fundraising committee for our neighborhood park. She needed help creating social content to drive donations for the next phase of improvements. Given that driving people to take action is, like, my job, I accepted the role and was immediately introduced as the newest member of the committee. What could go wrong?

For anyone who knows me, my ego is not the thing that normally leads the way. But for some reason, in this instance, I felt cocky. I looked at what had previously been posted on social and thought, Donate now. Psh. How original. I can do better. I will set this tiny corner of the Atlanta Internet ablaze with my engaging, hilarious, and unexpected content, the likes of which no neighborhood fundraising effort has ever seen. Step aside, normal people. This marketer must go to work.

I spent an evening playing in Canva—an online design platform—coming up with a few concepts. I added the fundraising group’s Instagram to my account and launched out of the gate with this:

For background, Wylie is a very narrow, busy road with parking along one side, so it's not uncommon to experience bottlenecks. I thought a neighborhood inside joke would unlock the donation floodgates. Five minutes had yet to pass when alarmed texts from the other committee members started bombarding my phone. Puzzled, I hopped back on Instagram. My post was creative and funny. Surely, there was a misunderstanding.

What there was, was a miscalculation on my part, because I should’ve known you do not. Mess. With. Cyclists. Comment after comment poured in. Now I was spending my Friday evening as a social media response manager.

My heart was racing. Even though I had created many a social media campaign for clients over the years, I rarely had a front-row seat to its reception in the market. And certainly never a live look at something crashing and burning before my eyes.

Within 24 hours of my first contribution in this volunteer role, the committee head deleted the post AND issued an official apology in the Stories. I was shocked—who were these humorless monsters on wheels that couldn’t take a joke? But mostly, I was incredibly embarrassed. Who was this seasoned advertising creative that got canceled by her own neighborhood?

Oh. It was me.

Reflecting over my attitude and actions leading up to Cyclist-gate, I realized I overlooked some of the things that had become second nature when creating content for my clients that may have helped me avoid the gigantic pile I had so clearly stepped in.

Start with a content plan.

I didn’t properly assess the audience’s understanding of the fundraising effort thus far, or their awareness around the improvements being made. It was like I had jumped in mid-conversation trying to land a joke that nobody heard the beginning of. If I had better strategized and seeded my delivery of information, it’s possible the more creative twist of “What’s it worth?” would’ve been better received further down the funnel (minus the part about the cyclist).?

Read the room.

Just because funny or irreverent content works for brands on Tik Tok, that doesn’t mean it’s what your audience is looking for when it comes to discussing their home, their neighborhood, and their community. My fellow Reynoldstowners didn’t want to be entertained. They wanted to be informed. Even after I crawled out from my shame hole and returned to posting on behalf of the fundraising committee, the content that performed the best wasn’t the spoof on the Little Miss meme, it was the post that captured the authentic spirit of and love for the park. Sometimes being human is more important than being an advertiser.

Diversity makes a difference. Duh.

Because it was a volunteer effort, there wasn’t a clear process for gaining approvals for the creative and so, well, I didn’t get any. I ideated, created and posted in a vacuum. Not sharing my process with others was a huge miss that could’ve revealed what I clearly wasn’t seeing, which was how my post would be making fellow neighbors feel attacked, criticized, and put down. All I saw was a joke about a bike—and hey, I can make the joke, because I ride a bike sometimes, right? *face palm* Diversity of thought, experience, background, genders, races, neighborhoods, upbringings, EVERYTHING is so important in producing work that is reflective of the world around us.?

Rally, rather than ostracize.

The concept of donating the dollar figure you’d spend to avoid an annoyance wasn’t the problem, but the way I executed it was. It would’ve been far more effective to unite people around a common enemy, but instead, I was putting others down to prop up my cause. By inviting everyone into the conversation instead, I could’ve generated more positive results (and way fewer middle finger emojis), or at the very least gotten the concept off the ground.

It was a humbling experience, to say the least, and reinforced how important it is to keep your eye on the goal for any project. For this one, it wasn’t to win an ADDY or stroke my own ego with lots of likes. It was to drive donations, for which I still have a chance to do.

If you’d like to support Phase 2 improvements for Lang-Carson Park located in the very lovely Reynoldstown neighborhood of Atlanta, GA, consider giving here. Every little bit helps (select Lang-Carson in the drop down!). And if you’re a cyclist, I’m sorry. Please don’t trash me in the comments.?