More Hall basement, December 2009. Photograph: Lee Pellegrini

Five days a week, rotating groups of student employees man some 25 computer stations in a large open basement room in More Hall, calling alumni and friends of Boston College on behalf of the Boston College Fund, the University’s primary giving program. Depending on the week, the 60 call center workers all told make up to 35,000 calls and bring in $50,000 to $100,000. On a Saturday afternoon in early December, I donned a headset to see if I could help.

Calling goes on for three hours a day, starting at 6:00 p.m. on weekdays and 2:00 p.m. on weekends. According to Maggie Hurley ’06, program director for the facility and herself a phone jockey in her undergraduate days, student callers receive eight hours of training to familiarize them with the Boston College Fund, the mechanics of the calling system, and the protocols. (Both Hurley and the students are employed by RuffaloCODY, an Iowa-based company that specializes in fundraising services and is contracted by Boston College.) There are different scripts for different populations of alumni and donors, but “the training is actually meant to get you off the script, and allow you to be able to respond,” says Pablo Beiro ’13, who started at the call center in September.

Alumni are categorized into some 100 segments. There are, for example, LYBUNTs, who gave Last Year But Unfortunately Not This Year; CTDs, or Continuous Donors; and YAs, the Young Alumni more than 10 but less than 20 years out. Hurley started me with GOLDs, the 10,000 or so Graduates Of the Last Decade. The telephone system autodials people in a given pool based on how recently they’ve been called (to prevent calling the same person two days in a row, for instance). As a call is placed, the computer screen displays key facts about the recipient—name, hometown, graduation year, and place of employment at the top of the screen, and the recipient’s history of giving below that. The lower right-hand portion of the screen features the recipient’s phone number. That quadrant turns yellow when the phone is ringing and green when there’s a pickup. If there’s no answer after five rings, or about 30 seconds, the system moves on to the next call and logs a “no response” in the database. A fully staffed three-hour shift of 25 students—there were only about a dozen on the day I joined in, owing to exams looming—will average 5,850 calls, says Hurley.

I spent about a half hour in the GOLDs pool. Despite the autodialer’s relentless troll through the names on my computer screen I got no answers. Hurley had warned me to expect this. “We’ve been calling them since the start of the semester,” she said, adding that list fatigue is but one factor. The ubiquity of caller ID makes it easier for people to dodge calls.

When it became clear that my odds of actually talking to someone were slim, Hurley switched me to long-lapsed CSON donors—nursing alumni with a history of giving who haven’t done so for several years. Within four or five numbers, I got my first pickup, a woman who graduated in the 1980s. After confirming her contact information—the first step in any call—I got into the conversational part of the call. Hurley says that most alumni, whether or not they donate, like to hear from and engage with students. “Find the things that you care about,” she advises, “and get that across to people you’re calling.”

“I love talking to alumni,” says caller Caitlin Maguire ’10. “You can see how BC affected them. . . . This year, saying I’m a senior gets people going. People remember the Mods, so they want to know where I’m living. I know kids who are interested in law school who will ask questions when they’re calling law alums.”

My go-to topic was construction on campus—the Gasson Tower refurbishment and the renovation of 9 Lake Street for the School of Theology and Ministry. “That’s great,” my nursing alumna said, politely but with a perceptible lack of enthusiasm, and that is when the wheels started to come off.

“Yes,” I stammered, “yes it, uh, is. Er . . . .” I was botching my transition to the ask, the part of the conversation where the caller requests a donation. With any chance of a smooth segue blown, I cut to the chase.

“The reason I’m calling is to talk about the importance of alumni contributions to the mission of the Connell School of Nursing,” I blurted out. Mercifully, the woman I was speaking with informed me that she had received a donor card from the nursing school and planned to make a pledge that way. I thanked for her time and her support, and we said goodbye.

Despite its bumps, the call had been cordial, which is apparently the norm. “On 95 percent of the calls, the people we talk to are great,” says Beiro. My next connection, a few minutes later, went more smoothly, but didn’t result in a donation: The woman I called said she was putting kids through college and simply couldn’t afford to give right now.

I had one more conversation, which was unnerving in its own way. When the time came for the ask, the alumna informed me that she was out of work. I had overheard another caller handle a similar situation, but I still felt unprepared. “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, good luck, and hopefully when you get back on your feet, you’ll think of Boston College.” Afterward, I swiveled around in my chair and looked at Hurley, who was sitting at a conference table in the center of the room and had apparently heard the exchange. (A special phone connection allows supervisors to monitor any calling station.) “If you get a call like that again, direct them to the Career Center,” she said. “No matter how old they are, we have resources for them.”

My day ended at 5 o’clock, with a grand total of three pick-ups and no gifts. I didn’t feel too bad, though: On December 5, even with an amateur on duty, the call center garnered $24,830 in pledges.

Read more by Tim Czerwienski