Someone Else Has to Make Your Case

Here’s the core difference between major gifts and grants: One is personal; the other is professional. You invite your program officer to invest not through their bank account but their reputation. You’re asking them to champion your organization in front of a boss or board.

It’s your job to support that ally so they can tell the others, “I believe in these people. Back them.”

The larger the potential investment, the higher the professional stakes for your contact. A six-figure recommendation draws more scrutiny than a modest award. A seven-figure one can define a program officer’s year.

The right habits make your connection’s job easier. Most of us, without realizing it, act in ways that stifle our progress, if not that of the sector.

We Are Flooding the Field

Government instability sent nonprofits scrambling to foundations last year. Many funders report 30 percent more applications. Inquiries from organizations “just wanting to talk” are skyrocketing.

Then, AI removed a natural friction in the system. When applications took twenty hours, staffing prohibited under-resourced groups’ submissions. Now that they take half that time, foundations manage volume by retracting open invitations or limiting access to personnel. For the growing ranks of funders with social impact backgrounds, these choices can’t feel good.

This is a stressful time for grant seekers. Most I know are overwhelmed. So are grant makers. Apply to a short list of your most promising investors, and the pressure eases on both sides. It’s those deep relationships that lead to major grants in any case.

We Are Becoming Our Programs

Even if yours is a restricted award, know that major investors aren’t buying a program. They’re betting on the organization behind it—its leadership, infrastructure, financial stewardship, and judgment under pressure.

Most applicants invert that dynamic.

Programs dominate. The institution behind an initiative surfaces as a formality, as a lead-in to a conversation or a paragraph about organizational history. In meetings and in writing, one topic matters most to funders: Why should we trust this group with our investment?

When you don’t address that question fully, in terms of the program and its organization, you force a funder to do added work in search of the answer.

We Are Communicating in Tongues

Does your organization “center lived experience in a trauma-informed, equity-centered framework”? Is that how you would describe the work to your spouse or neighbor?

If you haven’t sat on a proposal review panel, know that by application twenty, all but the most precise words feel empty. A jargon-filled application, or conversation, becomes indistinguishable from others.

Yes, we need to reflect foundations’ preferences. But go too far, and it’s impossible to stand out.

Your funders are individuals who happen to work for institutions. Write to them that way. No application template prompts you to convey the moment your organization pivoted because the data demanded it, or the research breakthrough that drives your approach and belongs to no one else. This is how you get funders repeating your story internally—and among peer funders.

We Are Telling Disconnected Stories

If your funder is on the fence or needs more information, they’ll do some research. Consider what they’re likely to find.

Your website announces a program that ended two years ago. Your annual report describes a version of your work that predates the current strategy. Your social media shows photos of events with no relevance to potential investors.

Grant seekers invest enormous energy in crafting the right narrative for a specific application, then leave their public-facing presence to drift. Funders see your organization through your digital presence before deciding whether they should take a professional risk with you.

When your bespoke application and the public face don’t tell the same story, there’s doubt at precisely the moment your program officer needs certainty.

We Are Discounting the Numbers

For too many grant seekers, the numbers are an afterthought. Budgets, financial narratives, and the ask itself communicate competence. When they’re vague, inconsistent, or disconnected from the rest of your message, the mismatch is hard to defend.

The most compelling budgets are blueprints that account for more than the grant period. They help your funder see the multi-year arc of your work. They tell a foundation board, many of whom think in corporate terms, about ambition and plans.

Assume your funder looks at the numbers first. That can change how you view financials.

The Longer View

It has become our sector’s sport to catalog what foundations get wrong. It includes wasted time, power dynamics, and opacity. There’s often a gulf between funders’ stated values and their behaviors. But let’s admit, some of the dysfunction is ours.

When we flood foundations with misaligned inquiries, program officers lack time for organizations that deserve attention. When we lead with language that numbs rather than compels, we train funders to discount what we say.

Many similar issues arise because nonprofits are under intense pressure to generate revenue. That stress encourages hasty behavior, while foundations reward organizations that demonstrate clarity.

Every message, meeting, and report makes your contact’s internal advocacy easier or harder.

Are you worth the risk?