29. Chapter 29 #3
“Your operational budget seems lean,” he comments after several minutes. “Are you confident it’s sustainable with these staffing projections?”
I appreciate his question because it’s genuine and assumes I’ve done my homework and have reasons for my choices. Past Julian would have simply said, “This is wrong,” and expected me to figure out his concerns.
“We’re leveraging a strong volunteer program,” I explain, leaning forward to point out the relevant section.
“Beatrix has connections with a veterinary school. Their students need practical hours with animals. We provide the experience; they provide free labor. Plus, a large percentage of volunteers at SKCAS are willing to volunteer at Buttons Sanctuary Academy, too.”
“Academy?” he asks.
“We’re playing up the cuteness factor. Obviously, we’re not teaching the cats table manners or arithmetic, but the name is designed to grab donors’ attention.”
Julian nods, impressed. “Smart. What about ongoing maintenance costs? Old buildings like that shelter can become money pits.”
“We’ve factored in graduated increases,” I say, pulling up the five-year projection. “And we’re structuring the renovation to qualify for energy efficiency grants to help, in addition to Connor’s connections.”
“Connor is SKCAS’s maintenance worker, right?”
He continues asking specific questions. Questions that treat me not as his former secretary who’s playing at being a businesswoman, but as a competent peer professional presenting a solid plan.
Then he surprises me by asking, “Have you considered larger corporate partnerships beyond the initial sponsorship? Companies like Petco might be interested in naming rights for specific areas of the sanctuary.”
I stare at him, momentarily speechless. He’s strategizing with me, not for me.
“I have a list of potential corporate partners for phase two,” I admit. “But I was focused on securing the founding sponsorship first.”
“Smart priority setting,” Julian says. “One thing at a time.” He sets down the tablet and looks at me directly. “What sponsorship level are you looking for from Plaza Investments?”
“The minimum requirement is a hundred thousand,” I say carefully. “I’ve secured commitments for sixty thousand from other sources, but without a primary corporate sponsor, the Trixie J funds remain out of reach.”
“Very well. Plaza Investments will commit one hundred and fifty thousand,” he says finally.
“With naming rights for the main rehabilitation center and a board position for a company representative. Not myself,” he adds quickly, “but someone from our community outreach division who can provide genuine value to your organization.”
The amount stuns me. This commitment exceeds the requirement by fifty thousand dollars.
“That’s extremely generous,” I say when I find my voice.
“But…” I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but here we go.
“Julian, I’m only requesting the remaining amount from Plaza Investments.
The last thing I want is anyone thinking I didn’t secure the funds through my business experiences.
” It’s one thing for Plaza Investments to donate an amount similar to all the rest, and another for it to seem like without my husband’s help, I couldn’t have made it on my own.
“You don’t think turning down money is…?”
I know what he wants to say, so I finish for him, “Stupid? Perhaps, but I’d much rather secure the initial funds, and then, when I meet or exceed my projections, secure more.
There are a million charities out there, so many that are deserving.
Let me work and prove that I’m competent and can grow and help countless cats. ”
“It’s a sound business decision. The sanctuary aligns with our updated corporate social responsibility goals.
The community impact metrics are solid. The management team”—he nods toward me—“is clearly competent. I’d make the same decision regardless of our personal connection, but I understand your worries and will respect them. ”
“Thank you. The sanctuary will be transformative for the community.”
“I believe it will,” he agrees. “Send over the formal sponsorship agreement, and I’ll have legal review it and commit to the forty thousand this week.”
He stands, extending his hand across the table, and mine slides to meet his. “I look forward to seeing what you create with the sanctuary, Elowen.” He walks me to his office door. “The children are lucky to witness your vision becoming a reality.”
I’m halfway to the elevator when the full impact of this meeting hits me.
He treated me as valuable, not as an extension of himself, but as a separate, competent professional with a vision worth supporting.
As the elevator descends, I allow myself a small, private smile.
I came for money to build my sanctuary. I am leaving with that and something far more valuable: the confirmation that the professional identity I am building stands on its own merit.
Julian’s respect feels like an unexpected bonus prize.
It’s not something I need anymore, but satisfying to receive, nonetheless.