Pencils of Promise was beginning to become known in small circles; we had made a name for ourselves through the Chase Community Giving Contest, had newfound connections at Summit Series, and Justin had begun to amplify our work on Twitter and Facebook. But largely, we stayed out of the traditional press. I knew that the Pencils of Promise story I wanted to tell hadn’t yet occurred, so I turned down every interview and media opportunity that came my way.
I cared much more about PoP’s long-term success than its early notoriety. Creating something new is easy, creating something that lasts is the challenge. I modeled my approach after the bands I loved most, since many of them had lasted for thirty or forty years. They didn’t achieve staying power by splashing their faces across highway billboards as soon as they wrote their first three songs. They first built a loyal base of hard-core fans who felt they “discovered” the band and would ardently share their music with others. Over the years, these bands built up credibility and refined their craft, until they were ready to release a major album. What seemed like an overnight success was actually years in the making.
I’d seen the stories of other NGOs appear in minor and major publications, and while the press helped with visibility, many times it didn’t lead to any new funding or support. That’s because the single most wasted resource on earth is human intention. How many times have you wanted to do something but not acted right away and forgotten about it later? People probably read those articles and had a strong desire to help in that moment, but the organization didn’t have easy and effective mechanisms (website, staff, back-end systems) to convert that intention into action.
I decided early on that we wouldn’t share our story through traditional press until we had three pieces in place: (1) what I called a “holy shit” story. You needed to hear about PoP and think, Holy shit! How have I not heard about this? I need to tell someone else about it now; (2) a beautiful website with a back-end system to handle inbound inquiries; and (3) the staff and infrastructure to follow up immediately on any interest in our organization.
I waited nearly two years for us to reach a double-digit school count (our “holy shit” story) and get our website, staff, and infrastructure to a place of excellence. By late 2010, we finally had everything in order. AgencyNet delivered a gorgeous website that not only allowed donors to see the exact locations via GPS of schools they funded, but also to take a 360-degree virtual tour inside the classroom using cutting-edge technology. Tom audited our financials and ensured that the most rigorous standards of financial accountability were in effect across all offices. We even added five “adult” board members to guide us through the next period of expected growth. I was finally ready to go outbound with our message.
* * *
A reporter had emailed me over the summer to say she wanted to write about Pencils of Promise for the Huffington Post. I told her to wait a few months since I still hadn’t done a single interview and was waiting for us to break ground on a slew of new schools that fall. But I kept my word that I would go back to her when we were ready. After we did the hour-long interview, she told me that she’d share the piece with her editor and see if they wanted to publish it. Much to my surprise, the article, titled “The New Nonprofit: Pencils of Promise,” became the cover story on HuffPost Impact over Thanksgiving weekend. The page splashed a huge photo with the catchy teaser “How a Backpacker Built 15 Schools from One Pencil” and was shared nearly twenty-five hundred times, making it the most shared article of its section that month.
This well-timed article put us on the map. The phone started ringing. Emails started coming in. Big brands reached out wanting to work with us. David Yurman’s head of global marketing launched a fundraiser in its flagship store and donated products for us to auction off. AOL, Vogue, Variety, and People magazine all reached out to explore ways to partner with us. CBS and ABC started competing to get an exclusive piece on PoP for their evening news programs. The doors to countless major corporate sponsors were now wide open, and I was ready to jump at the opportunity.
Our early beliefs in the value of social media and the rise of cause marketing were finally paying dividends as we began structuring branded partnerships that led to major dollars. Justin’s support helped even more, as many of his corporate sponsors donated to PoP because we were his favorite charity (along with the Make-A-Wish Foundation). Justin and Scott even structured the North American leg of the My World Tour to donate $1 per ticket to PoP—creating a new generation of young philanthropists among the fans attending his shows.
In addition to building our relationships with the press and major brands, I also started to focus on speaking at events. The Feast on Good was an invitation-only conference held at the TimesCenter for leading advertising and media execs that focused on driving innovation that makes the world work better. It aimed to bring together what they called “innovators, doers and makers” to dig in and address today’s greatest challenges. Brad had been to the event the year before and said it was riveting. “You have to speak there next year,” he’d told me.
At the time, that seemed like a pipe dream. We weren’t legit enough to speak there—among the likes of established institutions like the Economist and Foursquare. But after the Huffington Post article, people became aware of us. Brad helped arrange a meeting with Jerri and Michael, the cofounders of the event. “If breakfast goes well, I think they’ll ask you to speak,” Brad said confidently.
Breakfast at Manhattan’s low-key Grey Dog café went great. At the end of almost two hours together, Jerri said, “We are looking for someone young and inspiring as our closing speaker this year. We’d love for you to be it.”
“Yeah, for sure.” I sounded casual, but I had to restrain myself from getting out of my chair and dancing across the café.
* * *
Hours before the speech I was incredibly nervous and consumed with anxiety. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I listened to the soothing song “That Western Skyline” by Dawes on repeat on my iPhone and tried to calm myself down. I knew that thousands would be watching on a live stream, including our entire office on the Lower East Side.
The speech was fifteen minutes long, and for the first few I could hear my voice shaking a bit. But when I showed the video of Nuth, Nith, and Tamund, I was reminded of why I was up there and began to speak more confidently. When I finished, many audience members stood up in a standing ovation, and it seemed as though I’d nailed it.
A long line of attendees came up to me to ask questions, swap cards, and share stories. My parents were there, but they patiently waited until I’d addressed everyone else, then finally came up to give me a big hug. For the first time in a while, I felt invincible.
My dad and I embraced, and then he said nonchalantly, “You should look down.”
I did and realized my fly was open—it had been open during the entire speech. I couldn’t believe it. “Really?”
He nodded and smiled. “Yup.”
We both laughed it off, but it was an important reminder to never take oneself too seriously, and to never feel too self-satisfied. The only truth about first impressions is that you only get one. The way people perceive you in those first few moments will set the anchor around which all future interactions are based. Fortunately, few people noticed my blunder, but you can’t get those moments back; you can only prepare for making the best possible first impression on those new people you’ll meet in the future.
As I left the TimesCenter, I saw several of our staff members who were at the conference mingling with other attendees. Because the staff were wearing PoP T-shirts, people were seeking them out to see how they could get further involved. I couldn’t help but smile when I overheard the staff confidently tell others to visit our website, where they could gather all the information they needed to educate a child or fund a school.
Most people rush to get their story out, but by waiting until our “holy shit” story, our staff, and our website were in place, we were prepared to convert people’s interest into action. Even though I’d given a full speech with my fly down, PoP was definitely on its way up.