Denied By Budget. Delivered By Effort.

Let me start with a confession.

One of the managers at Raising Cane’s had a little crush on me.

And yes—I absolutely used that to feed my staff.

Now before y’all clutch your pearls, I’m not saying go flirt your way into free catering. I’m not encouraging you to hit up your roster to cover lunch during in-service. But I am saying this: use your connections.

Because when people ask me, “How did you even get businesses to donate?” the honest answer is—relationships. Some were formal. Some were built through email campaigns and cold calls. Some were the result of solid networking and storytelling. And the one you see above? That one was blessed by a little charm and a well-timed ask. That’s just me being real.

But let’s zoom out. Because this story isn’t about chicken fingers, even though my grandmother used to say, "Devin can't pass a Cane's without stopping at it". It’s about what it looks like when someone sees a gap and says, “No budget? Bet. I got this.”

Let me set the scene.

Years before this, I was a teaching fellow. I had the idea to organize a school carnival to celebrate students that met the state testing goal. I had a vision, but the principal said, "no money". So, I wrote donation letters, hit the pavement, and found businesses willing to give. That taught me something early on: if you can communicate the need and show the impact, people will show up. Truth be told, my principal at the time had NO faith I could pull it off but every time I came in with a check from a business, she and her secretary were eating that doubt but cashed those checks. *cha-ching*

So, let's fast forward to my first year as a full-time teacher at a public charter school serving under-resourced communities. During in-service week, a two-week long professional development marathon, I noticed something…off. Day one had a little breakfast. After that? Nothing. No meals. No snacks. No effort (seen from my side). Just vibes.

So I asked my principal, “Hey, do we typically do meals for in-service?”

The response? “We don’t have the budget.”

Now listen, I understand constraints. I understand tight funds. But what I don’t understand is leaving people unsupported just because it’s inconvenient to figure something else out.

So the following school year, I decided I’d figure out a solution. But why? It wasn't my job. I wasn't asked to do so. TUH! Like that's ever stopped me from caring before. Well, I knew the previous year, that I was making it work for lunch (broke) and the new teachers, many of them relocating, unpaid until the end of the month, were showing up every day trying to prepare to serve kids. You’re telling me they have to do all that and go hunt down lunch every day like I did? That they had to struggle too just because I did? That didn’t sit right with me.

I remembered what I learned as a teaching fellow raising money for a school carnival: the power of a well-crafted ask. I started building a list of local businesses. I stalked websites for donation criteria. I wrote personalized pitches. I tracked deadlines and inventory. I gathered data on how many staff members we had, how many students we served, and why this work mattered.

And yes, I slid in that Raising Cane’s ask too. Shoutout to connections.

But let me be clear: this was all outside my job description.

I wasn’t in leadership. I wasn’t on the in-service planning team.

I was just a teacher who saw something broken and decided to do something about it.

And guess what? It worked.

We didn’t just get one day covered—we got multiple days covered. Panera, Cane’s, other local businesses. People showed up. Because I asked. Because I tried. Because I gave a damn.

The teachers were shocked.

“Wait… Devin did this?”

“Devin, the teacher who’s only been here a year?”

Yes. Because I refuse to let the words “We don’t have the budget” be the final answer when it comes to people’s dignity and support.

And here’s the part that still sticks with me:

If I could do that with no title, no budget, and no formal power… imagine what leaders could do.

Because let’s be real—titles open doors.

Had my principal made the call to some of these same businesses, the response would’ve been even faster. More support. Bigger donations. Easier logistics.

Not because they’re more capable, but because the optics are different.

And that’s what leaders need to understand: some doors will only open for you. That’s not always fair, but it is the truth. So if you’re holding the keys and choosing not to knock? That’s on you.

You have power. Use it.

You have access. Maximize it.

And if you don’t like hearing “no”? Great. Then don’t stop there. Ask better. Ask louder. Ask more creatively.

Because if all I ever did was accept “we can’t” as gospel, a lot of people would’ve gone hungry that week. And that might seem small to you, but when you’re running on empty—emotionally, physically, and financially—a hot meal says you matter. A hot meal says we thought about you. A hot meal says save your money for the next thing. A hot meal says we planned for your humanity, not just your labor.

So no, this story isn’t about food.

It’s about effort.

It’s about resourcefulness.

It’s about refusing to treat people like afterthoughts.

And it’s about calling on leaders to lead like they actually care about their people.