As Year Winds Down, Crowdfunding Comes on Little Cat Feet

HAZELWOOD, Mo.  Mark Verblanian is a long-time employee of Applied Widgetronix in this suburb of St. Louis, but he owes his longevity not to productivity–which he admits is sub-optimal–but to his ability to ingratiate himself with a wide variety of co-workers.  “I try to support everybody’s fund-raiser,” he says with the warm, open smile that makes him a consistent runner-up for employee of the month.  “It helps every time there’s a round of layoffs because people can’t imagine this place without me, even though they can’t figure out exactly what it is I do.”


“Wait’ll I tell Mr. Whiskers how generous you guys are!”

 

But now the shoe is on the other foot as the 29-year-old finds himself in a tight economic squeeze; his 8-year-old cat “Mr. Whiskers” needs an operation, and like most private health insurance plans, those offered by his employer don’t extend to pets.  “I guess I should have paid more attention during open enrollment period,” Verblanian says, an expression of self-disgust twisting his mouth on one side.  “It’s all so complicated and Vicki, the Assistant Benefits Coordinator who explained the different options, had on this really tight sweater that day.”


A young Mr. Whiskers

 

But the distraught cat-owner–a rarity among single men–responded with a 21st century form of outreach to everyone at his firm, and some beyond.  He started a “crowdfunding” appeal on INeedMoney.com, which helps those in need raise funds outside normal charitable channels without the benefit of a tax deduction, but also without the scrutiny that organized charities are subject to.

“It’s been a godsend,” Verblanian says, as he posts a daily update about Mr. Whiskers to keep his “page” fresh to potential donors.  “Hey everybody,” he writes, “thanks for all your support to date, we’re at 21% of our goal and momentum is building.”


“You’d do the same thing for us if we had cats with only one liver!”

 

He leans back in his chair and casts a sorrowful eye at the picture of his cat he keeps on his desk.  “Mr. Whiskers is suffering, but he’s counting on you to help get him through this rough patch of catnip!”

With this update typed Verblanian hits “send” and returns to the backstory behind the looming tragedy.  “Mr. Whiskers was born with only one liver,” he reads aloud over a lump in his throat.  “For those of you who like liver and onions, you know what this means: an inability to cleanse his system of impurities or go to the bathroom or something.  At some point, his little body–which actually is pretty big at twelve pounds but still smaller than yours truly!–will just shut down.  I’d hate to see that happen, when most of the 1% of this country are all walking around with two healthy livers!”

Depleted by the emotionally charged task of composing his heart-rending appeal, Verblanian goes to get a package of Chuckles candy from the vending machine in the employee lounge.  “Hey guys,” he says as he greets Tina Laughlin and Aaron Swelting, the former a “floating” secretary and the latter an in-house accountant, generally known as the company’s cynical office wag.


Mr. Whiskers–after years of suffering.

 

“I am so sorry to hear about your cat,” Laughlin says, her heavily made-up eyes glistening as she fights back tears.

“Thanks, Tina–appreciate it.”

“How’s it going?” she asks with an optimistic tone she hopes will give her co-worker encouragement.

“Good, good.  Two weeks to go, if I don’t hit my goal I still get to keep the money net of a service fee.”

“Cool,” says Swelting, as he looks through the steam rising off his free but awful cup of office coffee.  “So there’s really no downside for you, is there?”

“I guess you could say that,” Verblanian replies, “although Mr. Whiskers will be taken from me if he doesn’t get the treatment he needs.”

Swelting says “Um-hmm” in apparent agreement, then pokes at his phone to search the internet.  “You know, it says here that cats only have one liver.”

“Really?” Verblanian says, with as much feigned innocence as he can muster.

“Yeah,” Swelting continues.  “So what’s so special about your cat only having one?”

Verblanian’s face clouds over at the question, and the implicit suggestion that his motives are somehow less than pure.  “Did I say liver?” he asks.  “I meant kidney.”

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