Holiday Generosity Without Turning Your Firm Into a Charity

Every December, the “Spirit of Giving” ramps up. You get the emails about giving back, the posts about gratitude, the clients who “just have one more quick question” that is secretly a two-hour project.

Then January shows up. You look at your write-offs and your bank balance realizing you were extremely generous. Mostly with your own profitability. 

The Arthur effect 

Recently I read that Arthur story on Facebook. You probably did too. Seventy-two-year-old deacon, thrift store job, the freezing teenage boy, the navy parka, the “defective zipper” trick so the kid can buy the coat for three dollars instead of twenty-five. Then later, the kid returns as a grown EMT with five hundred dollars and a Thank You. It is a great story. It is probably not true. 

I know that. You know that. The comment section usually has twelve people claiming it happened in their town. A good sign that it happened in none of them. But the sentiment lands. Arthur does not rescue the boy. He does not make him a project. He lets him be a customer with dignity. 

I saw another one of those stories about a school cashier who quietly paid the difference so kids with lunch debt could eat. Sometimes the twist is that the school district fires her. Sometimes the community pays off the entire lunch balance. Who knows which version is real. What stuck with me was the same core idea. Someone within the system identified a gap and creatively used their own resources to address it. In the process, it protected the kid’s dignity. 

Those little Facebook fictions work because they tap into something we are starving for. We do not just want generosity. We want generosity that does not make people feel small. 

The two holiday modes 

That got me thinking about accountants in December. 

We are surrounded by financial need in a way most people are not. We see the clients who are barely making payroll, the owners who are putting Christmas on a credit card, the ones who are behind on sales tax and too embarrassed to say it out loud. At the same time, we see our own reality. Higher software costs, team members to pay, our own retirement going unfunded. 

We feel the pull to be “Arthur generous” at the holidays. A little extra time here, a free meeting there, a discount for the client who has had a bad year. It feels kind. It also quietly trains everyone that your boundaries are negotiable if the story is sad enough. 

Most firms slide into one of two holiday modes. Mode one is ‘clamp down’. No exceptions, no flexibility, “policy is policy.” It keeps the numbers clean. It feels cold, especially when a longtime good client hits a rough season. Mode two is ‘secret Santa’. You throw in work that is out of scope and do not bill it, telling yourself it is “relationship building.”  Then in January, you have a pile of write-offs and a knot in your stomach. 

The Dignity Policy 

So here is the real question Arthur raises for us, even as a fictional Facebook character. How do you embody the spirit of giving without turning your firm into a charity? 

I came up with this idea: a Dignity Policy. Take what those stories do emotionally and translate it into an actual business practice. Generosity that is intentional, structured and sustainable. 

Audit your generosity with intention 

Start with the only data point that never lies: your own numbers. Pull last year’s discounts and write-offs. That is your existing generosity, whether you meant it that way or not. Look at it honestly. How much of that was thoughtful support for clients in genuine hardship? How much was fear, guilt or avoidance? That little audit alone is usually very clarifying. 

Create a budget for generosity 

Then decide what you can give on purpose. Allocate a small percentage of your revenue, perhaps starting with one percent, as your generosity budget—your "Arthur fund." It is not for every client who pushes on price. It is for specific situations: a long-time client who gets hit with a medical crisis, a small number of “scholarship” spots in a group program, a short-term adjustment when a great client has a bad year. 

Help without making people feel small 

Next, copy the part of Arthur that matters most. Help, but have people pay something. That is where the dignity lives. When a client is struggling, instead of saying, “We just will not bill you for this month,” you say, “We can move you to a hardship rate for the next three months. After that, we will revisit together.” For a new business owner who truly cannot afford your full package, offer a smaller, clearly defined starter service at a lower price. They still have skin in the game. You still respect your own work. 

Make your policy transparent 

Make your Dignity Policy visible. Arthur had a “store policy” to hide behind. You can write yours in plain language. In your welcome packet or engagement letter, include a short paragraph that says something like, “We maintain a small annual budget to support clients facing genuine financial hardship. If you are struggling, talk to us early. We cannot work for free, but we may be able to adjust structure or timing for a season.” As a result, a terrifying conversation suddenly becomes an honest one. You are generous, but you are not a blank check. 

Reward good client behavior, not bad habits 

Finally, use generosity to reward good behavior, not rescue bad behavior. Instead of handing out holiday discounts because you feel awkward, tie any savings to actions that help both of you. A small credit for prepaying the quarter. A better rate for moving to your preferred tech stack before busy season. A thank you bonus for clients who consistently hit document deadlines and show up for review meetings. Your kindness now improves your operations instead of stressing them. 

This is the part the viral stories never cover. Arthur and the lunch cashier are moving money in ways that feel holy because they protect dignity. You and I have the chance to do that at scale, with systems. We can design firms that are generous, but also resilient. We can give without erasing ourselves. 

A final reflection 

As holiday stories fill your feed, remember your goal: a firm that helps people without making them feel small. And a business that honors your own value too. Before the year ends, pull your write offs, set a small generosity budget for next year, and draft your first Dignity Policy. Share it with your team. Talk through how you will use it. 

Then ask yourself one last question: if the “kid in the thin hoodie” walked into your world this December as a new business owner, what would your version of that navy parka look like in your services? 

Happy Holidays Everyone! And may this next year be your Best Year Ever!