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Are You The One Who Got Away?

October 29, 2024

A few weeks ago I got on an elevator and standing right there was an old flame.

No, it wasn't a romantic love interest, but someone I once thought was the potential donor of our organization's dreams ? the one who got away.

It was 2011. I was a 29 year old kid with a dream of building an organization for Jewish grad students around North America. We set up a nonprofit but we didn't have any donors. I needed to raise an initial budget of $150,000 for it to take off. I had a few leads, but nothing substantial.

Then, someone introduced me to "Mr. Right." He seemed to have it all: a successful entrepreneur turned VC who took chances on young people by investing in new companies with big dreams, who understood and cared for the Jewish community, and had a track record of supporting Jewish nonprofit startups like ours.

It took me months of chasing, but I finally got a meeting. He sat me down and right away asked the big question:

Why do grad students need their own Jewish organization?

I was prepared. "Grad students are 5-10 years older than undergrads and worlds apart in terms of their priorities and interests. They typically don't hang out with undergrads and need their own Jewish space on campus," I told him.

Then he asked, aren't the existing campus orgs working with grad students already?

Again, I was ready. "Actually, no. Grad schools are often separate campuses from their parent university, and sometimes they are standalone institutions without parent universities. Those students couldn't access the Jewish undergrad orgs even if they wanted to."

And then I drove home my main point:

"Unlike undergrad, grad school is when many young adults contemplate life in a serious way. Grad students are making major key decisions regarding work, family, as well as their Judaism and Jewish identity. If we don't reach them now, who will?"

Finally, I looked him in the eye and said, "I have little to no support, and I need someone to believe in me. Could you believe in me?"

He thought for a moment. Then flatly said, "No."

Mr. Right proceeded to give a few justifications. He only gives large donations and didn't want to be a large donor to a small organization. We needed to prove ourselves as viable before he gives. He only likes calculated risks. He doesn't want to overextend himself.

I left the meeting feeling like I'd been rejected by my high school crush, but also with a determination to prove to him that we could do this. I sent him constant updates via email over the last 13 years and tried to keep in touch. He never responded, but google metrics told me he was opening the emails.

Standing in that elevator with him 13 years later, my head was flooded with thoughts. Does he realize how far we've come? That we're servicing 155 grad campuses and 10,000 students who rely on us for Jewish community? That we're financially healthy and transparent, raising a $2.7 million budget? That we have an amazing advisory board and executive community behind us?

Before I had a chance to tell him any of this, he turned to me and said "You know, I've been following your emails for years. It seems like this has turned into something special. I have to be honest, I didn't think you could do it. Keep me in mind during your next campaign." And with that, he walked off.

Will he donate this year? I have no idea. Life isn't a 90s romcom where the reject always gets the date before the credits roll.

What I do know is that JGO's amazing work speaks for itself, and has won us a lot of admirers among people like Mr. Right who previously doubted us. And that itself is a happy ending.

(And for those who rejected us?if you're reading this?maybe we're worth another look?) :)

Still looking for some more Mr./Ms. Rights out there.



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