volunteerplaintalk

Author: volunteerplaintalk

  • Volunteer Manager=Volunteer!

    Oh, one of my friends, who is a volunteer coordinator went and did it. He offered to “help out” with an event. You know how this goes. Someone from a department calls you and asks for help with something and before the words dry on your lips, you’re in charge. Is there a secret birthmark on our foreheads that magically appears once we become volunteer managers?  Does it say “ask me, I’ll do anything” and is it visible only to everyone else?  It must be, because we are all viewed as gophers, dumping grounds, catch-alls, happy to please everyone minions.

    Maybe the word “manager” in our title is wiped clean by the word “volunteer”. Or maybe everyone thinks we are so accomplished and brilliant and capable that they freely want us to be in charge. Ok, I lost my mind for a moment.

    My friend offered to help out and therein lies his problem. To him, “help out” meant an hour of set up and that would be it. To the other staff member, it meant, “ok, I’ll move on to the next event, because this one is taken care of.” She honestly thought that not only getting all the volunteers, but set-up, take down, coordinating with the facility, procuring the supplies and negotiations with the event planner was part of his “help.”

    When he told me this, I have to admit, I laughed and said, “what were you thinking?” He shook his head and agreed. We’ve both been down this road more times than a Dunkin Donuts coffee run in the morning.

    Eventually, it got straightened out, but not until after much extra work on his part. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter how clear we are with other staff members. They will try and dump their responsibilities on us especially if they feel stretched or stressed. I know a volunteer coordinator who is continually letting others dictate her job. She is miserable and no wonder. She has no time to cultivate volunteers, to creatively grow her program and to actually enjoy her job. Her day consists of cleaning up after everyone. I know I couldn’t do that for long and not end up on the front page of the newspaper for having gone nuts and torching the lobby.

    We have to be our own best friends and allies. While our jobs speak of the possibilities and wonderful work volunteers can do for our organizations, I don’t think it also includes all the “pack mule” stuff our fellow staff expect of us.

    While we continually use the phrases, “I’ve got the perfect volunteer for that job” and “I think we can help you out with that”, we also need to never be afraid to say “No, that’s not part of my job.” If we don’t, we will all end up torching the lobby!

    -Meridian

  • Don’t Sit by the Phone

    A friend of mine called me yesterday with a problem. She volunteers in a thrift store for a local organization that helps victims of domestic violence. Every Saturday, she is scheduled to work from noon until 3pm. She has been doing this for two years.

    She told me that since Christmas, it has been hard for her to get to the shop. She’s had numerous out-of-town trips to see ill family members, and oftentimes her job requires her to work on a Saturday. She tells me she is diligent about calling to let them know she will not be there. The last time she had to go out-of-town, she called to let the manager know and was told that new volunteers were starting on Saturdays and to call when she got back. She called and was told that the shop would contact her when they needed her. This was about 3 weeks ago.

    My friend is angry, confused and upset. In her mind, she did everything right and her two years of service is being discounted. She feels as though she’s been cast aside for an unknown new person. She is really hurt. She is so hurt that she is telling everyone she knows about the shoddy treatment she received.

    Hmmmmm. From a volunteer manager perspective, I can only guess that the shop really depended on my friend and that each time she could not be there caused great hardship on the manager. We all know that oftentimes it is the volunteer manager who has to replace the volunteer when they are unavailable. This makes our jobs so much harder. What volunteers don’t realize is that they are not alone in calling off. Depending upon the type of volunteer role, volunteer managers can be left doing the job of three people at any given time. If this happens day after day, the volunteer manager can grow tired of filling in and will look to someone new who might exhibit a stronger commitment.

    However, what we always have to keep in mind is the perception of the volunteer. If they believe that they have given excellent help, have followed the rules and are diligent about reporting absences, that is all they will be able to perceive. I’ve had the unfortunate experience of trying to salvage a relationship with a hurt volunteer more times than I can ever count. Perception is everything.

    Was my friend a good volunteer? I don’t know, I wasn’t there to observe her. Was her manager just looking for a way to get rid of her because she was not performing well?  I don’t know that either. I do know that volunteers who are “fired” by never calling them are not happy. Clarity is necessary, especially when the message is a delicate one. Leaving volunteers hanging, not knowing if we want them or why we don’t want them is tantamount to unleashing a barrage of negative advertising. They will talk about us, even more than the volunteer who is happy.

    Not everyone can remain a volunteer. If we do need to let someone go, it’s better that they understand why. My friend has been hurt by her experience. The volunteer manager who left her hanging probably soured my friend on volunteering. That means we’ve all lost another volunteer. And we can’t afford to do that to one another.

    -Meridian

  • Memorial Day

    I’m thinking about my uncle, who was killed aboard the U.S.S. Franklin. I never knew him. I’m thinking about a couple of volunteers whose first husbands died in WWII which brings me to thinking about all the volunteers who served and in particular, those who are no longer with us.

    There’s John who landed at Normandy and marched into Germany. He had traveled to France a few years back to receive a medal for his bravery. There’s Fred, a hard-core Marine who organized a fund-raiser single handedly because he believed in our mission. There’s Judy, the Vietnam nurse who tended to the wounded and held the hand of the dying. There’s Craig, who was a POW, escaped and made it back.

    Then there’s Dan, a British transplant who served in the British Army. What an English gentleman, sturdy, intelligent, a writer who could work with patients one day and dress in a tux to MC an event the next. He brought light and joy until he succumbed to illness. I keep his badge in my drawer.

    These men and women did not die on a field or ship far from home. They came back and lived. And live they did! How fortunate we are to have had their willingness, their work ethic and selfishly, their company. They lived and utilized their lives for the greater good. I am humbled to have known them.

    -Meridian

  • Twenty Years Later

    We had a volunteer meeting the other day and lots of volunteers showed up. There were new volunteers, all excited to share their first stories mixed in with volunteers who have been doing the work for five, six, and seven years. And then there’s Gertie, who has been doing this work for twenty years.

    I gave them an exercise to do. They had to pair up and tell each other about their most memorable patient. Then they had to write answers to a short questionnaire which complimented their partner on the worth of their visits to the patient. It was meant to reinforce the worth of their volunteer work.

    One volunteer even told me how glad she was that she came to the meeting. She wasn’t going to come, but then decided to at the last minute. She said, “Often I feel as though I’m not helping our patients. I’m glad I came today and heard all these stories. I just needed that boost to keep me going.”

    Gertie’s partner shared Gertie’s story. It was twenty years ago, Gertie’s first patient. The patient lived in a house with bars on the windows that were literally meant to keep everyone out. Gertie tried to gain access but was refused. Twenty years ago, not too many people knew what hospice was all about. Her patient was understandably suspicious.

    Gertie kept trying though and patiently stood on the stoop, explaining to the crack in the door that she was a volunteer and was assigned to help. Eventually, she was let in. That experience not only stayed with her, it helped to form her ideas about volunteering. Gertie is practical, consistent, loyal and hard working. Her first patient cemented those attributes. The patient grew to tolerate her visits and benefited from them. Gertie is not the touchy feely type and gave that patient and family what they wanted: Hands off respect.

    Everyone was quite impressed with the story and the volunteer who tenaciously did her job. They are in awe of Gertie. Frankly, so am I. Twenty years is a long time. Who stays married for twenty years? Holds a job for twenty years? Lives in the same spot for twenty years? Yet Gertie has been volunteering in the same capacity for twenty years. She is a wealth of stories and experiences. She takes little to no management because she needs none. She goes about her job with seriousness, pragmatic problem solving and a quiet respect for the rules.

    It makes me think about twenty years later for all the volunteers and for myself as well. While growth, change and learning to adjust are wonderful, there’s also something to be said for the non-romantic notion of steadiness. In the fable about the tortoise and the hare, the tortoise wins. Gertie is a volunteer tortoise, steady and slow, her eyes always directed ahead. There’s no excitement, but also no drama.  I don’t think we appreciate her enough. But then, she’s not about that, because twenty years later, I think she’s exactly where she wants to be.

    thank you Gertie.

    -Meridian

  • The Curse

    If you follow baseball at all, you probably have heard of the Chicago Cubs curse. In 1945, the owner of the Billy Goat Tavern was asked to leave Wrigley Field because his goat was offending the fellow patrons. He left, but not before supposedly putting a curse on the Cubs, which of course is why they will never win a World Series.

    I’m wondering if someone, somewhere put a curse on volunteers who win awards. I can see it now, back in 1666, a local physician, being given an award in London for volunteering to help with the great plague, walking up on a makeshift stage while the crowd cheered. A nobleman in the crowd, astride his horse, was asked to leave because the horse, well, frankly, kept defecating in the crowd. Incensed, the nobleman left, but as he rode away, he yelled, “Any volunteer who wins an award shall heretofore be cursed!”

    A friend of mine, who is a volunteer coordinator just recently told me the story of one of her volunteers who just won a very prestigious community award. The celebration was long and happy, and the organization, who normally did not win awards was very pleased. Within a month, this volunteer not only imploded, she created a legal situation for her organization. Within a month? Strong curse!

    Maybe awards go to the volunteers’ heads. Maybe we choose the volunteers who are already on the path to self destruction, but it is an eerily repeating scenario. What is truly ironic is that we often award volunteers who cross boundaries. Those who go “above and beyond” are the ones we choose because their stories are compelling and why kid ourselves? The volunteers that play strictly be the rules don’t win the awards.
    My fantasy is that there would be an award titled: He who does not stray from the rules. How incredibly boring that would be! The fine line between a great volunteer and a great volunteer that over steps is too narrow for even a Flying Wallenda to cross.

    So, here’s to those volunteers who win. Be happy, but careful, because that curse may just get you

    -Meridian

  • Happy Volunteer Appreciation Week Ben!

    It’s volunteer appreciation week and there are all sorts of festivities going on. The volunteers are so gracious about being thanked; it’s a love fest!

    There’s a volunteer, Ben whom I just love. He’s an old union steward, grouchy, snarly and full of Ben-isms. Whenever he sees me coming, he screws up his face and asks, “Oh! what brings you down from your lofty office?”

    When I answer in my most sweetest voice, “to see you Ben, of course,” he follows up with “probably on your way to another pointless meeting.”

    I love sparring with Ben. He comes to do the job, take jabs at me, and then goes home. He’s prompt, hard working and funny as all get out.

    Yesterday he made a comment about how easy my job was. “Really?” I said, my inner hackles up. “what makes you think it’s easy?”

    “C’mon,” he sneered. “you tell people where to be and then you go have coffee.”

    Hmmm, that does sound a bit like my job.

    I said, “Ben, how many different managerial styles are there when it comes to volunteers?” I know how much he detests management and mumbo jumbo about styles.

    “One. show up!”

    “Ok,” I said, ready to play the game. ” how about Jerri? Do I use the same style with Jerri that I use with you?” Jerri is an elderly lady that volunteers at the same time Ben does.

    “Well yeah!”

    “She wouldn’t come back if I talked to her the way I talk to you.”

    He shifted. “Ok, well, that’s just her.”

    “Well, what works for her might not work for you, or the next volunteer. We don’t have pay hanging over their heads. We have to actually be engaged with volunteers.”

    Ben looked at me hard. I had stopped playing the game in his mind. “I gotta go, my times up.” He went for his jacket. “You go back to your meetings now, don’t let me stop you.”

    “I will. And Ben? Happy Volunteer Appreciation Week.”

    “Load of crap.” he said as he left.

    I love you Ben.

    _Meridian

     

  • What Do You REALLY Want?

    I have this wonderful volunteer, Magda, who has all sorts of life experiences, college training and has lived in many interesting places. She has dabbled in mysticism, spiritualism and healing. She is fascinating to listen to and a pleasure to be around. Every time she comes in, I carve out some much needed time to sit and talk with her. She not only gives me a break, she makes me think.

    I asked her one day about some of the group exercizes she has participated in, thinking that I might be able to adopt some into volunteer orientation. The volunteers always seem to get a lot out of groups, and it gives them a chance to participate and explore.

    Magda thought about it and then offered an exercise she felt was enlightening. It goes like this: Two people sit facing each other. They take turns asking the question, “what do you really want” over and over again. The question becomes the nudge into helping people discover their inner hopes and desires.

    Thinking this might be something worthwhile for volunteers, I asked if we might try it. Madga went first. I asked her the question and she talked about peace and serenity. I asked it again and she talked about her place in the world. I asked again and she elaborated on her life and her inner desires. It was wonderful.

    My turn came next. She looked at me squarely and said, “what do you really want?” At that moment, instead of voicing all the wonderful things I wanted to say or thought I should say, my mind shut like the hatch of a nuclear submarine. Nothing came out. I looked at her blankly, so she gently asked again, “what do you really want?”

    Images flooded into my head. World peace? A hot shower? A bowl of Cheerios? I couldn’t think of a thing I wanted. Magda, sensing my frustration, said, “just start small, like a candy bar, or a sip of lemonade.” Again, my mind closed. “I can’t,” I whispered, horrified that I just proved there is something really wrong with me.

    Thankfully, she laughed. “Your reaction is not that unusual,” she said. “It mostly happens to people in helping professions. They’re so busy that they never stop to think about what it is they personally want, because they are too concerned with what others want and need.”

    That made me feel much better and got me to thinking about volunteer managers. We have to be concerned with the wants and needs of clients, other staff, administration and all of our volunteers. We juggle these wants and needs continually, listening closely to volunteer stories, soothing hurt feelings, and probing for motivations. We are on heightened alert at all times. It’s no wonder that we would fail this exercise. It’s not that we don’t know what we want, it’s that we don’t have time to explore it and so, when forced to think about it, our minds just shut down.

    Are we important? No, I mean, do we count as individuals, not just as helpers? Volunteer managers can run the risk of losing themselves in the job. If that happens, we’ll be lousy at all the fun group games. I’m going to guess that you, just like I want to participate once in a while.

    So, go look into a mirror and ask yourself this question, “What do I REALLY want?” Don’t leave until you get an answer.

    -Meridian

  • Now That’s Why I Love Orientation

    The other evening, a new group of volunteers finished orientation. We meet for 6 evenings, for about 3 to 4 hours each time. It is a lot to ask of new volunteers, but the idea is to give them enough “up front” time to experience the message, get comfortable, ask questions, form some bonds with each other and become enthused. It also doesn’t hurt that the trainer can observe each volunteer closely and get a sense of where that new person will fit.

    In my area, hospice, we focus a great deal of time on listening skills, the ability to hear patients and families without judgement and the ways to really be present with people who need the emotional support. We do multiple group exercises on listening, judging and support.

    It was graduation night and we were getting close to the end. There is the usual buzz of excitement that “I’ve gotten through it” to “I can’t believe it’s over” going on in the room as I produced the orientation certificates. It always surprises me that the new volunteers tell me they wish orientation could go on longer and that they will miss it. But when you think about it, this is their “fitting” if you will for a job they chose and they want the best fitting uniform and the right tools. They want to be prepared.

    As I was readying the certificates, I flippantly said, ‘if I could sing, I’d sing the graduation anthem to you.” They all laughed and one of the 18 shouted out, “well, can you dance, then?”

    “Can I dance?” I have a running joke at work that I can dance the River Dance, which of course, I can do nothing of the sort. “I can River Dance,” I offered slyly.

    “Oh, wow, do it, please, do it” everyone cheered. “Ok, I’ve been taking lessons for years,” I added and headed for the middle of the room. I’ve learned over the years that you have to break the seriousness of the subject with self deprecating humor at times. Some days I fall flat on my face and other days I find the right mix of releasing laughter and staying on point.

    I stood in the center of the room. All faces eagerly watched to see the beautiful movements known as River Dancing. I thrust my arms to my sides and looked up. Then I started a wild, insane whirl of feet and crooked legs. Now, normally when I do this for someone new, it takes less than two seconds for them to catch on that I’m not only a rotten dancer and liar, but nuts as well.

    However, this evening, as I whirled around idiotically, there was no perceptible recognition of the insanity.  All eyes were riveted politely and as I ran completely out of breath and had to stop, the group broke into thunderous applause. I was dumbfounded! I looked at them, so sincere and I just started laughing. “It’s a joke,” I managed through my laughs.

    “Oh!oh! ooooooooohhhhh!” they all said and started to laugh and comment how horrible it was and how they weren’t sure what I was doing. Then one volunteer offered, “we were being non-judgemental, just like you taught us”

    Ahhh. I laughed all the way home from class. Bless them for applying their studies to a fool like me. Bless them for their humor and bless them for not thinking they had made a mistake by coming here. They will be great volunteers.

    I told them that in their honor, the River Dance will be part of the final exam. They enjoyed that and I sincerely hope that they got something really lasting out of class. I know I did.

    -Meridian

  • A Life of Its Own

    Last night I slipped into my chair at a committee gathering. This is a committee I started over four years ago and have been active in ever since. The first four years were hard and I have spent hours on the projects this committee oversees. Every member of this committee has put in sweat, ideas and love for the outcomes. It is without a doubt, the best committee I have ever been involved with. We spend our time enjoying each other’s company while we plan hard.

    We’ve been on hiatus for about three months. Truth be told, in December, we collectively kicked around the idea of disbanding because the amount of work we do is enormous. After four years, we were just plain weary. But last month, I started getting calls from the members. “Are we going to meet again?” “Have we decided to scrap the committee, because I might be ready to give it one more shot.”

    And so we met. As I slipped into my seat, I looked around at everyone who came back again. Only one person was missing. We even had someone return who had been battling a terrible illness and we added two new members. It was a big and raucous group. The meeting lasted four hours. Now, normally, meetings lasting more than 59 minutes are painful, but not this one. We laughed, reviewed and got excited again. Everyone brought fresh and outstanding ideas.

    For the first time since the formation, I did not say much. I took the minutes, nodded and put in a few comments, but mostly I listened while I soaked in the enthusiasm.

    And you know what? Never once did I feel overshadowed or ignored. I watched the group play off one another, picking up cues from each offered idea to go further, to get more creative. And basking in the loud chatter, I felt good, really, really good.

    To me, the purpose of creating committees to oversee projects or events is to find those who genuinely believe in the work, those who will bring their creative chops and revel in the outcome. It doesn’t hurt to like or respect each other either.

    This group is all of that and a cherry on top. Honestly, I like the feeling that I could quietly slip away and they would continue on beautifully. It’s not mine anymore and it probably never was. It has a life of its own.

    -Meridian

  • Nikki the Wonder Dog

    I was visiting my friend the other day. She has done well for herself, divorced, hard-working, just bought a nice 3 bedroom home at a good price. She moved from a place that had a small yard to a sizeable back yard for Nikki, her Chow mix. Nikki, who wiggles when you pet her is in heaven.

    Nikki and I go way back. I was managing a thrift store about ten years ago. In spite of the tremendous amount of physical work, it was a great deal of fun. The volunteers were “pitch in” types, but with wicked senses of humor, especially when opening mysterious bags or boxes of donated items. I could always hear their howls of laughter up at the register.

    The thrift store was located next to an apartment building that was a pay by the week set up. There were a number of transient folks living there and many of them used our merchandize as their primary source of shopping. Quite a number of day laborers lived there and if one of them would help move a sofa, he got some free jeans or a toaster. It worked for all of us.

    One young man, Carl, came frequently. He was only 19 and struggling to make ends meet. He had a girlfriend that he was planning to marry if he could just get a stable job. He worked hard, and I really appreciated his help. We talked a bit, as much as a 19-year-old male will allow and I started to care about what happened to him.

    One day Carl asked me to come outside. He wanted to ask me something. I turned the register over to a volunteer and followed him into the bright sunlight. There, hooked to a railing was this young golden fur ball with a black muzzle and a black tongue that showed when she smiled.

    “I’m leaving,” Carl told me. He had heard about a job in another state. He and his girlfriend were leaving that afternoon. “I want you to take Nikki” he simply added.

    He wanted to leave before he cried so he quickly handed me her leash and disappeared. Nikki wagged her tail. She was young, maybe six or eight months old. As I stood there, all I could think was, “my husband’s going to kill me.” We already had one dog and three cats. What would I do with another one?

    One the way home, Nikki jumping around in the back seat, I tried to formulate a plan. I would post her picture at headquarters, and get people networking to find Nikki a home. I started to feel better as I pulled into the driveway. It would work out, I told myself.

    As Nikki settled in that evening, I called my friend and told her Nikki’s story. She came over out of curiosity to see the live item I had brought home from the shop. As she stepped into the living room, Nikki got up and ran to her, wiggling and bouncing happily. It was love at first sight.

    I didn’t need the flyers, I didn’t need to network, I didn’t need to do a darn thing. It really did work out. Nikki is now 10 and I see her all the time. She is the happy queen of her domain, with a cat and a parakeet for company. And now she has the big yard to chase squirrels and birds and the occasional prowling cat.

    I often wonder what happened to Carl. I wish he could see that Nikki got a great home, is loved and cared for in the way he had hoped as he handed me that leash so long ago. You did the right thing, Carl, although we didn’t know it at the time. All we had at that moment was shared hope and a wonder dog named Nikki.

    -Meridian