volunteerplaintalk

Author: volunteerplaintalk

  • Extra Mayo! The Tour Buses are Here!

    crowded restaurantGroups of students, what can I say? I love them!  I love their energy, their brand newness, their looks when they think I’m a bit daft. They’re energizing, but exhausting!

    I have this equivalent mental image of a sandwich cafe just outside of Niagara Falls. The owner has sporadic business and keeps putting up ads and specials to attract more customers. But then, every first Monday of the month, the buses of tourists pull up all at once! The tourists tumble out and their tour directors run into the shop, spitting orders, while looking at their itineraries and talking over one another. The shop owner frantically tries to fill all the orders, no mustard, extra onions, mayo on the side, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up or the buses will go elsewhere!

    The shop owner wants the business, so who is he to complain? But furiously throwing out sandwiches is not like making sure each one is made to order. The buses groan as they pull away, tourists munching while looking forward to their next stop. The cafe owner will never hear their complaints or kudos, he’ll never see those tourists again. But he’s counting on that tour director to bring another busload back, much as the frenzy is crushing when it happens.

    That’s what having groups of students is like. Much like tour buses, they visit, get their sandwich and go. They’re not long term and they travel together. You have to manage them in bulk which is vastly different than one one one.  Fraternities, service clubs, and teams all are great opportunities for us to have a lot of volunteers at one time. But typically the groups want to work together, have very specific schedules and a shortened time they will be with us. All of that’s perfectly fine, and truly, it is fun showing them the world of service.

    But at night, when the lights are out and the equipment is turned off, the cafe owner falls into bed, spent. “yes,” he whispers, “there’s new money in the till, yes,” he mumbles as he pulls off his clothes, “I can keep my cafe open another week and yes,” he sighs as he draws the covers up around him, “I’m so grateful for the tourist buses,” and as the spittle dribbles down over his chin,  he mumbles, “I ache in places I didn’t know…”

    What do you do with your groups? Twenty students want to do a project together, but you have no parking lot to clean, no building that needs freshening up. The groups can only work on a Saturday at 5pm, so do you ask a seasoned volunteer to oversee them and hope for the best, or do you leave your family every time and go in, because, like that cafe owner, some one has to make sure it gets done? Student groups can’t do a lot of orientation so do you give them a quick 15 minutes, knowing that it’s inadequate and knowing that you have to be with them every step of the way, so as to explain the mission to them and keep them from innocently saying or doing something inappropriate? Do you imagine that other staff could view the students as being in the way and you then hover over them so as to protect them? Do you spend endless hours coordinating their schedule with availability of clients, staff and other volunteers?

    For senior management, student groups are viewed as “THE BIG ONE!” What they don’t realize is the logistics of managing “THE BIG ONE”.  Yes, it’s rewarding, yes we love them, yes, it’s great PR. But we volunteer managers are the ones, spittle dripping onto our pillows, crawling into our beds at night. “Did I forget one of the student names?” we murmur, “can I stick 10 students into a clients home if I just have them all be quiet?” Our dreams are dense with “what ifs” and the dreaded, “if they don’t have a good experience, they will go elsewhere next time.” Shudder, we can’t have that now, can we?

    I’m stocking up for the next rush of students during spring break. I’m taking my vitamins, asking all around now for any big special projects that can be done by groups and clearing my calendar for late evenings and weekends. Hopefully, this cafe will be ready for the rush because each tour director (student group leader) has to have a satisfactory experience so that they will be back. And I’m experimenting with new sandwiches all the time; gotta keep the menu fresh and interesting.

    But I’m also investing in a new pillow and maybe a new spa cd. See, I think when the buses leave, I’ll be spending some real time sprawled across the bed, mouth open, with inhuman sounds coming out of me. Maybe as I fall into a crushing sleep, somewhere a student will remark, “that was a really good sandwich!”

    -Meridian

  • The Yin and the Yang

    I’m thinking about a volunteer, Barney who took orientation six months ago. Barney is a retired welder, a Vietnam veteran, a gruff guy who rides his motorcycle everywhere, even in the cold. In orientation he stuck out like a firecracker on a birthday cake. I honestly didn’t think he would do any volunteering. Silly me, I looked at the wrapper of him, not the Pastrami sandwich inside.

    Boy, was I wrong. Barney has turned out to be a “go to” volunteer. He accepts pretty much anything we ask of him, provided he has the time. He quietly takes his assignment with honor, then does it justice. I look at him and think of the archeologist, who spends weeks tirelessly digging, then finds an object covered with aged debris. The object is a find once dusted off and the search was worth it.

    Turns out Barney has a hidden talent that he never mentioned and frankly, I never would have guessed. He can play the harmonica. He started playing for one nursing home patient  and now they all ask for him. His bluesy New Orleans stylings get the fingers tapping, the mouths turned up in smiles, the eyes closed. He transports, soothes and frees. To step into a room filled with Barney’s music is to pierce the intimate bubble.

    I called Barney the other day just to thank him. Words were not coming easy to me. “Hey thanks for playing the harmonica, it’s really cool,” I could say or “Your music is just so inspiring, the patients feel like they’re floating in space.” How lame.

    Since I had nothing profound, I decided to just call and say hi. Barney answered the phone and said, “I’m really glad you called. I’ve been meaning to call you. I just wanted to thank you and everyone else for allowing me to volunteer. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

    Barney went on to hint that he has not had an easy time since Vietnam. He hinted at some periods of darkness and compared his self-image now to light. I never really got to make a phone speech about how much his volunteering means to us. It would have been, well, lame.

    What do we get with volunteers? We get them, the yin and the yang of them. I silently wept for Barney’s past hurts and took comfort in his present. Perhaps when Barney plays his harmonica, our patients feel the complexity of him and they can relate.

    I am so humbled that he has chosen to give with us. I think our patients see the yin and yang of Barney and take comfort in his “realness”. Realness is what they crave, not plastered smiles of a “do-gooder.”

    Is there joy without pain? Are there great volunteers without personal tragedy? Or are great volunteers really human complexities with heart?

    -Meridian

  • Beneath that Iceberg’s Tip is a Whole Lotta Ice

    “Where’s Craig? Where’d he go? What do you mean, he’s not coming in?” Sigh, if you have a moment,  I’ll try to explain it to you.

    Craig is a volunteer who is unique in every way, but good unique. He is dutiful, and soulful and there is just something about him that makes me feel really good. It’s obvious he gets it. I know when he says he’ll be there he will. I know when he strums his guitar by the bedsides of the terminally ill, his raspy voice connects. What a find, I tell myself. How did we get so lucky?

    But, after a short time and a long lasting impression, Craig had to quit. That’s the dangerous tip everyone sees. What lies beneath is a massive cold behemoth of ice that only I know about.  See, Craig lost his job, but that didn’t deter him from volunteering and after all, every unemployed person is eager to volunteer, right?

    But then his wife became ill and she stopped working. They had to move (not far) and Craig sold his car. He’s now an unemployed caregiver without transportation. His bills are not being paid on time. An independent man, Craig is on assistance. His spirit has been crushed. He doesn’t feel like helping someone else when he needs so much help himself and he doesn’t want to hear how good volunteering is for him, nor does he need time away from his problems. He’s broken and he has to fix himself.

    Craig is gone. And my sadness encompasses his problems, his broken spirit and the loss of a great volunteer. I can hope that he will return when things get better but somehow deep in that well worn gut I know that it will be a long, long time. I want everyone to understand his departure and to want to reach out to him, but I see the staff and other volunteers walking by and he asked me to keep all of this private. I will, but I want to TELL everyone. I want someone else to look over the side of the ship and see that destructive iceberg below the water line.

    I see the accusing eyes of the staff when they ask me, “Where’s Craig?” Did you do something to him, they wonder. Why did you fail to keep him?

    No I didn’t do anything and I can’t really tell you why he’s not here except to give you some generic reason. You see, we’re navigating some pretty rough seas and there are plenty of obstacles to volunteering. The water hides them from your view but volunteer managers see them lurking everywhere. And beneath every tiny icy tip is an iceberg.

    -Meridian

  • Apples to Rotten Apples

    Today, I’m sorry, but I have to issue a dire warning. Do NOT treat your volunteers too well. Don’t be too nice, too accommodating, too flexible, too encouraging. Nope, everything you’ve learned and know instinctively about volunteer management is wrong.

    There is this volunteer, Mabel, a sweet very genteel retired school teacher. She is so classy. She was raised in the era of good manners, respect and hard work. Mable has been volunteering for over nine years. She is dependable and a pleasure. So, hmmm, what could possible go wrong?

    Mabel branched out. She heard the call for volunteers to help in another part of the organization, away from daily contact with volunteer staff. She called me yesterday and in her sweetest manner, asked me why she was being treated so poorly by her new boss. She was convinced that she was inept, a poor volunteer, and (gasp) too old to do the job. Whatever did she do, Mabel wondered.

    I listened without speaking, all the while thinking (just let me get my hands on you, staff member who made her feel that way. Nine years down the drain.) I assured her that she was a fantastic worker and valued by our organization. (Who could be mean to her, I mean, seriously?) I told her that with her permission, I would speak to the staff member in charge of her duties.

    I gathered my thoughts and went to see the aforementioned staff person. I walked down the long hallway into the bowels of finance and billing and serious stuff. I politely knocked and entered the painfully tidy office. “Hi, Jerice,” I said. “I’m here to talk about Mabel, the volunteer if you have a minute.”

    Jerice rolled her eyes. I told her Mabel’s concerns and Jerice replied, “She’s a very nice lady but she isn’t a very quick learner. I’ve had to show her how to do the same job three times.” (Three times? If you knew the record number of times I’ve had to show a volunteer something, you’d faint!)

    Jerice shifted uncomfortably and then got defensive. “I thought volunteers were supposed to help, not take up more of our time. I’m really too busy to be constantly showing… blah, blah, blah.” As Jerice prattled on about how busy she was, I started daydreaming. In this daydream Jerice was a little girl in a classroom and Mabel was her teacher. Jerice couldn’t get the math problem and Mabel, in a booming voice yelled, “Jerice! You are the dumbest little girl I’ve ever taught!”

    Ok, that’s mean. No, in the daydream, Mabel is patient and kind, just as she always is. “Jerice,” I said. “Mabel has been a faithful, hard-working volunteer for nine years. We don’t want to lose her. If this is not the spot for her, please tell me and I will happily take her back in our area. Happily!” You see, Jerice, Mabel has already had an experience here. And she is comparing that experience. It’s not apples to oranges, it’s apples to rotten apples and your apples are oozing rot.

    Jerice calmed down and said she did want Mabel’s help. Funny, she never once asked if Mabel was happy or if she had any thoughts on her experience. Maybe she just needs to get to know Mabel before she can appreciate her. Sadly, volunteers are faceless and feelingless to many. I have hope, but I will be watching closely. And at any sign of Mabel’s discomfort, I’m going to start baking a juicy mouth-watering apple pie and invite Mabel home.

    -Meridian

  • No Tools, But a Nice Brunch

    I have this friend, Jenny who is a volunteer manager for a large non-profit and she is hopping mad. Now hopping mad is an old phrase, but her anger stems from old wounds. It seems that her marketing team decided at the last-minute to put on a very large community fair. They were given an opportunity to utilize a prime space and they jumped at the chance.

    Naturally, they needed beaucoups amounts of volunteers to stuff packets, act as hosts, man tables, set up, break down, etc. Jenny put all of her other duties aside to recruit about 30 excellent volunteers. Not just any warm body, no, Jenny, like all of us made sure she lined up the very best.

    The event was a success. Marketing patted themselves on the back. Jenny, however, put in almost 60 hours trying to do damage control. There weren’t enough items to stuff the packets and no one was there to explain the procedure to the volunteers. When the set up volunteers arrived, it was chaos and some of them had no jobs so they went home a bit miffed. On the day of the event, there were no assigned duties. Jenny had to run back and forth between the volunteers and the marketing staff, asking endless questions, running for supplies and trying to keep the volunteers out of earshot of the staff’s irritated comments. All of this while maintaining a cheerful disposition to shelter the volunteers from the madness.

    It took her days to recover from the exhaustion and for the volunteers to stop complaining about the extreme lack of preparation. They were not mad at Jenny, they were, as always, wise enough to see she had no control. They vowed to not work with “those people” again, not only because of the rightly perceived shoddy management, but the obvious treatment of Jenny. Small consolation to Jenny, who, as a professional did not pass along their feedback concerning her.

    So, why did she call me hopping mad three weeks after the event? She got a copy of an email, inviting the participating volunteers to a “thank you” brunch. Now, here’s the kicker. Two days after the email went out, another one cancelling the brunch appeared. But this one did say thank you for making the event so successful.

    Marketing will dust themselves off and move on, having scattered their used wrappers of volunteers all over. Jenny will be left with the long cleanup. Will some volunteers stop volunteering? Not if I know Jenny. She will work to keep them.

    I have this mental picture of Jenny, her hair disheveled as she stands atop the litter pile of cast off volunteers. She has a broom in one hand and air freshener in the other. Everyone in her organization just walks by without noticing her.

    It’s her job, after all, isn’t it?

    -Meridian

  • Um, Now That I Know This, What Can I Do?

    Yes, I trained Lisa. She sat in class with the rest of the group and offered comments, answered questions just like anyone else. I didn’t quite get the sense that she wanted to help like most other trainees, but that certainly didn’t disqualify her. I’m too afraid to make a judgement up front like that because I have been horribly wrong in the past.

    Anyway, Lisa left a voice mail message the other day. She couldn’t come in for her shift. What she did not realize is she failed to hang up and when her cell phone rang, she answered it. The voice message recorded the whole conversation. I suppose I should have deleted it before I heard it, but it happened so fast…

    It went (in short) something like this…

    “Yeah, oh hi! No, no, it’s ok, I’m not doing anything. I know, I know. Uh huh, uh huh, tonight? I think I can. No, he doesn’t suspect a thing. No, no, I can tell. No, Roger’s f#@$ clueless. I can’t wait to #@#$ ….”

    Well, you get the rest. Roger is her husband by the way. Curse those message machines that accept long messages. Curse me for not hanging up. (what’s that say about me, shudder?). But curse having knowledge that I don’t want to have in my head.

    Now, Lisa, who was before this knowledge, a potentially good volunteer, is a smarmy cheat in my eyes. She has a right to her privacy. Thankfully, I don’t know most of what goes on in the private lives of the volunteers. We volunteer managers get involved in enough of it.

    There’s not much I can do about what I heard, except try to put it aside and concentrate on whether Lisa does a good volunteer job, just like any other volunteer.

    But I know that the next time I see her, I will hear some of those descriptions in my head. I can’t promise I won’t be stand offish or give her a judgmental look. I do know, that if I pick up another voice mail from her, I’ll just delete it and call her back. Shudder or I’ll have to get therapy.

    -Meridian

     

  • Uh Oh, The Back of the Head

    Jo is a really generous person and a great volunteer. She lives alone with her dog, Sally (a toy poodle). She is a widow and has children that live in another state. She is full of life and laughs easily. She is a breath of fresh air.

    The other day Jo came in for her weekly volunteer duties. It was after Christmas. Only one family member, her son could make the visit to see her, and he had to go back right away. She said it was really nice to see him. As Jo turned to go, I noticed the back of her head, or her hair to be more specific. It was all matted, like she forgot to comb that part. “No!” my mind shouted, “not Jo!”

    See, that’s my visual cue, my telltale sign, my notice to start watching. Now, it’s possible Jo didn’t get enough sleep or she was just worn out from the holiday or maybe she just forgot. Yeah, that’s what I tell myself with all of them. But then I notice them asking the same question over and over, or the not remembering who works in the office or sometimes a general confusion. The guys might have a spot on a previously immaculate shirt or wear two different socks. These are the warning signs, subtle yet unmistakable.

    They are failing. They, too are only human and capable of getting older. “No! I want them to stay the same!” They are so comfortable, so dependable, so like a warm blanket on a frosty night. I don’t want to replace them with someone new, someone who doesn’t know the job, who doesn’t have the commitment, who doesn’t make me smile. But most of all, I don’t want to see them fail, to be another one who can’t come in anymore and who chalks it up to life, who takes things in stride and honorably slips away. It reminds me of Bobbie who developed ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and kept coming just like my tears.

    “Ouch“. I don’t want to sit at another bedside and pat a hand and talk about how much her volunteer service meant. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to put into words how I felt about each one of them. I kissed Jay on the head and he whispered “I love you.” I held Heloise’s hand and she stroked my cheek. I sat beside Ben and said “hi” and his body stirred. And so many others.

    Did they know they were more than just volunteers? Did they know that they inspired me and made me a better person? I think I’ll not take the chance with Jo and tell her while she is still volunteering. It will humble me and that’s not bad. And although she doesn’t comb the back of her hair, I will continue to cherish her and to be grateful for the opportunity to know her.

    And yes, I will be at her bedside when that time comes. She deserves that and so much more.

    -Meridian

  • When Will I Learn?

    So I have this unwritten rule that I break every so often. The rule is, “make every person who wants to volunteer go through the proper channels.” I always get burned when relaxing that rule and then I promise myself to never break it again.

    Yup, did it recently and here’s what I learned about myself. A just early retired baby boomer, Stephen came in and wanted to explore his options. He volunteers for a gardening club and for a no kill shelter but he wants to volunteer with people too. He has a great deal of time on his hands and wants to put it to good use. (I’m listening, Stephen). We spent a good hour and a half talking about how he needs to do something meaningful with his life. (You’re singing my tune, now).

    Since I did not have any structured orientations coming up in December-holidays I’ve found bring out mainly people who want to volunteer just on Christmas, the rest are pretty busy with their holiday plans, so the next orientation will not be until January. Stephen wanted to start “right away.” Now, these two words normally send red flags, but there was something about Stephen. (I wanted to HELP him-nice of me, huh?).

    I set up a quick one on one training with him and showed him some videos, etc. I made sure to tell him that this was a “special training” and that I “believed in him”. (I’m really full of it, did he really believe that?)

    I made him promise that he would take the full orientation when it was offered and he promised. (I’m really proud of myself by now). I then told him he could shadow another volunteer in a care center so that at least he could “get started”. (what I saint I am).

    Stephen shadowed a really good, seasoned volunteer. I called to see how it was going and talked to him and his mentor. We set up another time to shadow. (see, I follow through well). After the second time, his mentor told me that Stephen seemed very quiet and a bit overwhelmed. (no, that couldn’t happen, could it?) I called Stephen and left a message. The next day, I got an email (email? I thought we were sympatico!) from Stephen that simply stated he did not think this volunteering was a good fit for him. (what! after all I’ve done!)

    I think after a week or so, I will call him and offer the normal path to volunteering. (which I should have done in the first place). And if he refuses, then I will chalk this one up to breaking my own rule. (love it when you get that reinforcement).

    Next time, I will be more careful. (who am I kidding?) No, really, I need to stick to that which I have learned over the years. If volunteering is worth doing, it’s worth doing it correctly. And if managing volunteers is worth doing, it’s worth doing correctly too.

    Man, I’m tough.

    -Meridian

  • Encourage or Manipulate, That is the Question

    Well, I’ve been having this internal conversation for a long while. Getting the best out of the volunteers is my job, right? And I truly want them to do their best. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing a volunteer glowing from a really great experience. And what about the feedback from those we serve? It’s like Christmas when giving that praise to a volunteer.

    So, why am I having this conversation?  Oh, about six or seven years ago, a friend of mine overheard me speaking to a volunteer on the phone. When I finished, my friend looked at me and said, “that was masterful manipulation, you know that?” Ouch. “You think I’m manipulative?” She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, that’s what you do.”

    Fine, I should just let that go, but ever since then, I have had an internal ear that keeps hearing just a bit of manipulation. There’s the volunteer who needs constant support. Do I really, really believe what I’m saying when I tell him once again, “we are so appreciative of all your time. You are a constant support to our families.” Honestly, sometimes, I’m tired of spending an hour hearing how inadequate he is and wonder if he’ll ever be able to stand on his own.

    Then there’s the volunteer who talks incessantly and nitpicks, but does a job that truly no one else wants to do. Not having the time to listen but listening anyway because it’s easier than trying to find a new volunteer is ok, right? Frankly, I’m the one being manipulated, but oh well, the job gets done.  Am I encouraging her? Maybe placating is more like it.

    But the internal conversation really heats up when I work with a particular group of talented professional volunteers who, I’ve noted need a great deal of attention and dare I say it, encouragement. They expect more hand holding, more fetching of coffee, more concierge behavior, more running interferrence. Someone asked me, “how can you stand working with these people?  They’re so needy and demanding, and ugh, their egos are huge.” My quick answer was, “yes, but the end result is so worth it.” Hmmmmmm. So, morphing into the volunteer coordinator they want and need produces a desired end result. I guess each and every volunteer produces an end result and how they get there is in large part determined by how we manipu… er, encourage them.

    While manipulation is self serving and encouragement is holding the welfare of everyone at heart, the two are cousins, one noble, the other a devious craftsman.

    “Oh, we couldn’t do it without you.” says manipulation while encouragement tsks from the corner. How many times have volunteers said to you, “I’ll bet you praise everyone.” That makes me wonder, does some praise sound hollow and do some volunteers honestly believe that we just spew mindless gratitude? It is difficult to individualize all feedback but fortunately most volunteers sense sincerity. Staying grateful and aware keeps praise truthful. For the most part it all works, until that annoying voice, dripping with sarcasm asks, “did you really mean that or are you just being manipulative?”

    I will continue to monitor my praise o meter. When it starts to sound generic, I’ll go back and remember that each volunteer is an individual with unique needs, triggers and an ability to smell insincerity a mile away. If I don’t, I’ll just have to get used to hearing, “Oh, I’ll bet you say that to all the volunteers.” And sadly, they’d be right.

    -Meridian

  • Letting it Show

    So, Monday morning at oh, about 8:45, a prospective volunteer, Josh pops into the office. Unfortunately for me, I have an office that is accessible from the street. No receptionist buffer, no long trek to get to me; I’m smack dab in position to be the first breathing being you encounter. Now, this is not just any nutso morning. No, this is the morning after an entire week, including Saturday, all day Sunday and Sunday evening of continuous events culminating in a huge one on Sunday.

    Why would I come into work on Monday after such a week? Smaller events were happening Monday and there was much to still be done. Anyway, there was also a meeting involving volunteers that was to start at 9am and I knew that the volunteers would wander into my office because they had not been informed as to where the meeting was being held.

    So two staff members were in my office while the volunteers poked their heads in, asking questions about the meeting. In the midst of it all, Josh walks in. The staff members finish their conversation and leave. Josh, who I had spent an hour and a half in a walk-in meeting the week prior, asks me, ” I was cleaning out my library at home and wanted to know if you could use some books for the patients to read?”

    Are you kidding me? Do you walk up to a fireman who is unraveling a hose and ask if he likes apple turnovers?

    I let it show. I let all the stress and overwork and bleary eyed tiredness show. In all my years, I’ve not done that but once or twice (ok maybe more, but not a lot) and every time I’ve felt really exposed. No, no, gotta have this cool, collected persona. The volunteers don’t need to see the stress and the work, that’s not their burden. I apologized to Josh and explained that this time was not an ideal time (which is why I explained to him last week that I could not contact him until later this week but he did not listen) Sigh, so I ended up spending another 30 minutes with Josh so that he did not leave with the feeling that he was a pest or a burden.  (Isn’t he though-so far, I mean?)

    Josh is a retired early, very cerebral man with no partner, children or other relatives close by except a mother in a town a few miles away. He told me initially that all the “fun” stuff he was supposed to do in retirement was starting to get old. After an hour or so, he told me that he thought he could really fit in with us and that I used “the type of words that made sense to him”. These words I used were “meaningful experience”, “journey”, “path”, “not just a number”, etc.

    So, Josh is a person who will be a really good volunteer. He just caught me at my worst on Monday. There are people who will, when poking their head into the office, say “oops, I can see you’re really busy” and people who don’t or won’t see it at all. That’s where the stress trap lies.

    Snapping at Josh is just as much about me as it is about cleaning up the relationship with him. I created my own problem by letting stress show. I had to spend another amount of time I honestly wasn’t prepared to spend answering his questions. I will have to call him the end of this week and be prepared to have an action plan with him or he’s gone.Volunteers can give us lip service by saying they understand we are busy, but the truth is, they want our time. And they need our attention.

    Now, the question is, “do we stop recruiting volunteers when we are at our own personal maximum?” No, we don’t, because there is always that perfect shell hidden amongst the broken ones and as we walk the beach, we are trained to look down.

    If Josh is indeed that perfect shell, he will overlook the stress and insanity on Monday. I sincerely hope he will, for our patients’ sake, for his sake, because I know we can work together and he will do great things and ultimately for my sake, because, even though I know I’m human and sooo incredibly capable of failing, I want to think, somewhere, deep, down inside, I’m a fairly good volunteer manager.

    We’ll see. It’s not showing today. A good night’s rest takes care of that. Or maybe, that little voice after a chance encounter with a prospective volunteer jolted me back to reality. Take it easy and try not to let it show.

    -Meridian