Field notes.

This little guy cost me $15 at a farmer’s market in Chicago. It had come all the way from a monastery in Africa.

Just a candle.

I figured if the donor couple didn’t want it, they could always burn it up.

But I had a hunch they wouldn’t.

One of their passions—besides our university—was ending the illegal ivory trade.

A billionaire can afford almost anything and acquire almost anything very quickly. They do not need more stuff, and they certainly do not need the SWAG many institutions hand out.

But this was different: unique, inexpensive, handmade, and available from only one place in the world.

They loved it.

Whether giving a gift or asking for one—give them something they can't get anywhere else.

I once wore an entire crock of Japanese oatmeal on my only suit in Japan.

The dish was a lot heavier than it looked.

And I wore the whole thing.

No amount of napkins would help.

I tried to wear it with grace. It gave everyone a good laugh.

Later that day, we went to a second meeting.

Another ask.

I was down to a dress shirt and tie in a room full of blue suits.

They joked that I couldn’t be part of the group picture because I wasn’t properly dressed.

Sometimes the best trust-building opportunities come from how you respond when things go wrong.

Let people see you at your most vulnerable.

Just try not to scream in pain.

Next time, pack two suits.

The dean and I were invited to a full-on churrasco dinner by one of our most important alumni in Brazil.

I had really been trying to eat less meat.

After two hours of absurdly good cuts of beef, I was done. Tapped out.

But our host leaned over and said:

“You can’t stop now. The best meat is closest to the bone. You and I are the only ones still eating. We have to power through.”

So I rallied.

He was right; it was the tenderest beef I had ever had.

The next morning, my fitness tracker was setting off alarm bells.

“What DID you do?” my watch was saying.

I built a relationship.

"My wife will just never forgive you guys for rejecting our daughter. I love my alma mater, but we can't get past it."

His word, "rejecting." Ouch.

He went on:

“So I’m going to write you the largest check I can that will fly under the radar in my house.”

He wrote out a check for $35,000.

(Under the radar?!)

“Let me know if it bounces.”

Admissions is one of the most complicated issues we will deal with in principal gifts. There are three situations that require more judgment than almost anything else:

A child is applying: Protect the process. Pause the conversation.

A child is attending: Protect the student. Don’t announce.

A child was denied: Repair the relationship. Especially with the non-alum spouse.

Time heals all wounds? Maybe not this one. But we should move toward it, not away.