The comedy series 'Loot' features Maya Rudolph as a newly divorced billionaire reorienting herself with "regular society" (ahem, the rest of us) and as a result, her family's established foundation, which brings important foundation work to light as a form of entertainment; it's something for those who don't regularly work around nonprofits to be enlightened by, and of course, enjoy.

I had a flood of texts or casual comments come my way when the show emerged: "you have to see this show about a woman ending up with 87 billion dollars after divorce and starting to work on her foundation, totally thought of you guys right away!" Sign me up!

The first episode was enthralling: the confluence of events was tragic but exciting, and hilarious while pitiful. Her life landed her back in a bit of a bore with a lot of cash and assets, and surprisingly to her, a foundation bearing her name. Her interest is piqued, and she starts to learn more, gradually, until she's hooked on being involved (much to the dismay of the CEO who would rather she keep funding things and... go away again).

Why is this terrific for the world to see?

Because running a foundation takes considerable funding and manpower, and how would you know that unless you're close to one? The show is making fun of the uber-wealthy's ignorance to the regular world, sure, but it's also pointing out how much a named or recognizable funder helps or harms a mission and outcomes with their involvement, which we argue must be intentional and knowledgeable. When the lead character appears disconnected and unrelatable publicly at a foundation event, the staff is mortified: they know that the rest of the world will roll their eyes at the foundation once it's connected to someone who doesn't truly understand (or care about) the issues. They feel connected to the issues at hand and how to respond to them. They believe they know how to drive impact. They don't want someone who doesn't apparently know these things to come shake it all up for them.

Once the lead character acquires some self-awareness and asks more questions, she starts to see how her stature can influence positive outcomes for the foundation. People want to see her at meetings. When she shows up, they listen. When she speaks, she's better informed because she's taken the time to ask good questions, read long documents, and be entrenched in the team. Donors have the opportunity to be influential and inspirational; the stars truly align when they want to be, and they're open to how that's done best.

It could be an eye-opener to some that a serious commitment to charitable work can be a sacrifice: avoiding unwanted press, rearranging schedules (in the case of Rudolph's character, to miss some fun), investing time in education including issues, solutions and outcomes, and being able to speak as a partner to and supporter of the employed team.

I appreciate the thought that went into the show around the Foundation team. Those funny vibes from 'The Office' meet something glamorous and also real to our country, especially right now. I continue to love the attention our field is getting. Like I always say, the more that people shine a light on the world of philanthropy in any way, the better off we all are.