While binge researching, I thought I’d share a few recent volunteering headlines I found with you. They were deep in my feed…really deep, like buried deep.
Disclaimer: These “headlines” are made up.
In blatant effort to increase respect for volunteers, volunteer manger renames them “Fluffy Donors” and requires each Fluffy Donor to pledge $1 to the general fund for “you know, the fluffy work we do.” In other news, charity heralds “new era of respect for donors.”
In bid to save money, nonprofit CEO cuts volunteer department budget by 50% before being told there is no volunteer department budgetand laments, “What, now I have to cut the senior retreat?”
In a shocking nonprofit study, organizations learn that 78% of mistreated volunteers quit. “The remaining 22% will get a nice thank you luncheon,” says one CEO.
Upon hearing there is an uptick in people wanting to volunteer, nonprofit consulting agency unveils “Fees to Volunteer” as next big source of revenue for struggling organizations, using “They should pay for the privilege of volunteering” as their tagline.
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After learning the 850 packets they assembled for the annual walk/run were thrown away because of typos, volunteers stage walkout the same day the marketing manager is promoted.
After reading study that shows volunteering is good for health and well-being, nonprofit ED scraps wellness plan, asks staff to volunteer and replace “those pesky unpaid people.”
Yup, holiday gatherings are upon us and everyone fears the inevitable politics-driven shouting between grandpa and cousin Timmy, but guess what? Those conversations are nothing burgers compared to what we, volunteer managers must endure. You know what I’m talking about.
You arrive at a party and the snarky attorney guest of a friend of a friend of a friend is introduced to you. She hears “manager of volunteers” and looks down her nose at the scuffs on your Gucci knockoff shoes that you bought at your organization’s thrift store, because, hey, you have a conscience and want to contribute some money instead of just spending it and besides, recycling is the way to go, but you just keep mum and let her rake you over with her eyes like you’re some bargain basement hobo.
So, in the spirit of defending our #lovols profession, here are some comebacks for those inevitable questions that arise when you are introduced to uppity distant cousin Prunella or your best friend’s very successful investment banker neighbor, Chase who is usually alone on holidays.
Q: “So, you’re a volunteer manager, did you say? I’m confused. Does that mean you volunteer for the job or do you actually get paid to do that?”
A: What a great question. It’s complicated. I don’t get paid in money, but I do get to pick from all the stuff that is donated to my organization. Last week I got a case of lentil soup. The cans were out of date, but that’s ok. I’ve not gotten sick from donated food yet, unless you count that time I was throwing up for a week, but I don’t think it was from that out of date cheese, and heck, I picked off all the mold, but you never know. Anyway, I’m hoping for a toaster oven this week. Mine’s like 20 years old and it only toasts on one side so you have to turn it over and run it again.
Q: “Volunteer manager, you say, what’s that? There’s no degree in that, is there, I mean, you’re basically a party planner, right?”
A: You wouldn’t think we’d need any skills, would you? Actually, I have a Bachelor of Science in cat herding, with a minor in balloon animal engineering. It’s a pretty popular degree but the work is intense. I mean I think I’m still suffering the effects of helium-osis (raise your voice’s octave to a squeak) which makes me speak in a higher than normal voice at times. Currently, I have a scholarship at Nancy’s Nonprofit University for a Master’s degree in Little Old Lady Management. I hear the internship is brutal, you know all that tea drinking and knitting and getting shanked by a wayward knitting needle while scrambling for the ball of yarn the 17 cats ran off with. There’s this one class I hear is really hard, it’s ‘The Symbolism in Grandchildren Stories, or Does Grandma Secretly Despise Her Offspring?’
Q: “You work with people who don’t get paid? That’s not really management, is it?”
A: You got me. Don’t let this get out, but when a volunteer signs up, we pretend to give them a tour of the organization and we usher them into the basement and lock them up in a room until they complete their assignment. We all take turns poking them with a stick until they do what we want. Sometimes, and this is the hilarious part, we just poke them for laughs. I have my own special stick made out of hickory. I call it “Ol’ Persuader.” And you’re correct, it’s not management at all, ha ha, it’s so much easier and more fun.
Q: “So, you work for one of those nonprofits, right? You know, they’re always bothering me for money. Don’t you people just get money from the government? Why are you people hounding me?
A: Ha, ha, awww, we can’t fool you, can we? Don’t let this get out, but we actually get millions and I mean millions from the government but since we don’t need money, we invented this game. We like to see if we can get gullible people to donate and we give a prize at the end of the year to the staff member with the most lucrative sob story campaign. And I shouldn’t be telling you this, but do you know what we do with all those extra donations? One word. Stock market. Hey, it’s almost the end of the year. I wonder if I won the award with my “Life Sucks, Give Me Cash, You Cheapskate” campaign.
Q: “Wow, managing volunteers, that must be really easy, right, I mean how hard could that be?”
A: Oh, you, you are so perceptive. It’s hands down the easiest gig I’ve ever had. I’ve got volunteers who bring me coffee in the morning and volunteers who clean the office while I just sit back and watch YouTube videos. I even have volunteers who do my laundry, can you believe that? And, don’t tell anyone but I even have a volunteer who rubs my feet in the afternoon. Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? Crazy good! I’ve been told the foot rubbing and come to think of it, the volunteer who pays my bills violates some sort of fair labor practices, but hey, they volunteered, right? They’re not protected by anything, ha ha ha ha ha!
Well, there you have it. Use these answers in good, holiday health and don’t stress about those absurd questions.
What costume should we wear this year? My worn-out magician or wizard costume is just so yesterday and last year the executive assistant said to me, “you think you have to perform magic in finding volunteers, ha, try hiding the donation report from our CEO when donations are down.” Hmmm, maybe one of these costumes might work.
donor fatigue: dress in pajamas and randomly pin on a few dollar bills. Yawn and mutter, “so what exactly did you do with the last $300 I gave?” Make it more realistic by pinning on a volunteer name tag and say, “you didn’t even thank me when I came in last week and put 453 packets together, but you were quick to send me 6 email requests for the new funds campaign.”
background check: wear black pants, a night sky t-shirt and a huge red check mark. Say things like, “I found out about your speeding tickets in college,” or, “are you sorry for shoplifting when you were a kid?” Sneak up behind people and whisper, “I know everything about you….muahahaha.”
budget cuts: cut out financial statements, pin them to a t-shirt and slash through them with red ink. For more realism, carry a tray of half-eaten sandwiches and dried-up carrot sticks. Say things like, “because of drastic budget cuts, our volunteer luncheon will feature left-over food from board meetings. I’m not bitter; I can re-snack with the best of them.”
team building exercise: wear exercise clothes and tape pictures of buildings to your outfit. Write the names of the departments on each building but be sure to choose a giant castle for fund-raising and place it on top of your head. Do weird things, like don a blindfold and snort like a pig while calling out, “where’s my pig partner,” or loudly share a humiliating experience, or randomly fall backwards and yell, “hey, why didn’t anyone catch me, you call this a team?”
time off: dress in your normal office clothes, carry your phone, a pad of post-it notes and a spreadsheet. Say things like, “I’m having a great time at my son’s soccer game, but sure, I can answer the volunteer’s question, put her on,” or “wow, the Grand Canyon is truly spectacular this time of year, I’ll just get off the donkey and call for a replacement volunteer from here!”
the volunteer luncheon: tape balloons and streamers to the front of your outfit. Add in a banner that reads, “we can’t function without our volunteers,” On your back, tape a sign that says, “the rest of the year,” and leave your outfit blank. Or, if you’re feeling really snarky, tape little quotes to your back like, “send a volunteer to the store, that’s why they’re here,” and “no, no a volunteer can’t do that, they’re not qualified!”
Maybe I’ll just make a large sign that says “appreciated” and I’ll stand under it. What are you going to go as?
Sometimes I wonder if we should automate the volunteer inquiry process. Could we cut corners by creating an answering machine interview system for prospective volunteers? By eliminating the personal touch spent cultivating each new volunteer, I estimate we would save, like 16.9 years of our lives.
And heck, I’ve used every personality questionnaire out there, even the ones guaranteed to weed out “the potentially destructive personality.” I’ve asked “what kind of tree are you,” and “what would you do if you were in charge of the world,” and “who would you save if you had to throw someone off an overcrowded lifeboat.” (Hint: Watch out for the guy that says, “everyone else, including you.”)
So, if someone did create an automated answering machine system, would it sound something like this?
“Hello, you have reached the volunteer hotline. Please listen carefully with the listening skills you would hopefully use with our clients and select the number that best describes your desire to volunteer. Someone will get back with you shortly. As demand for our super duper meaningful volunteer positions is at an all time high, your expected wait time is 3 minutes.” (this is a blatant lie, but c’mon, it’s just the old marketing scheme that makes people think the volunteer positions are so popular that they’d better get one now before they run out). After some peppy music, “thank you for your interest in volunteering for our organization. Please select from the following options.”
“Press 1 if you have a sincere desire to help. You have no underlying reasons to volunteer other than you want to give back. You listen to directions, offer constructive criticisms and are punctual. You communicate well, take your volunteer position seriously and love being part of a team. Your expected call back time is 5 minutes or less. Actually, don’t hang up! A volunteer manager will pick up right now ’cause we can’t lose you! Hang on!”
“Press 2 if friends always tell you you’re a good person. Sometimes they tell you you’re too good for your own good. Maybe you are a bit hesitant, unsure of what you are getting into, but want to give us a try. You would love to socialize in a helping atmosphere. Your expected call back time is 20 minutes or less so stay put and start brewing a celebratory latte because you sound perfect!”
“Press 3 if you are saying you want to help because you think our volunteers are all nicey-nice and that’s what we want to hear. If you’re brutally honest, you need to be needed. Pressing the “like” button on socially relevant issues makes you happy, but only when you get a “like” for your “like.” Phrases such as “we couldn’t have done it without your help” make you tingly all over. Taking selfies with people in need ups your cred. Your expected call back time is 5 days or more. You might get bored in those 5 days and move on to something else, but, we’ll take that chance.
“Press 4 if you are the leader of a group such as a club, team or corporation. Now go back and press 1 if you sincerely want to partner with us and help because we would love to partner with you. You can do team building and everything. We’re down with that. If you kinda just want to use use us for PR and you expect us to accommodate all of your expectations because hey, it’s free help and we should be grateful, right, then stay on the line and listen to our canned music for awhile. Your expected call back time is 2 weeks or maybe a bit more.
“Press 5 if you have court ordered community service and you’re angry about it and will make sure to take it out on us or if you are under 18 and your mom is making you do this cause you were suspended from school and she is fooling herself into thinking this will actually help you get into college to learn something useful. You really hate the idea of being forced to endure all this feel good hokum and you laugh at us non-profit types because we are full of sh… sugary sweet stuff that gags you and robs you of your edginess. Your expected call back time is 10 weeks or more. A lot more.
“Press 6 if you can’t wait to get in here and straighten us out. You have the need to control and criticize and really want to run the show. You are unwilling to apply for a job in this organization, but would rather back door yourself in as a volunteer, cleverly thinking that we would never fire a volunteer, no matter how destructive they might turn out to be. You sling passive-aggressive phrases like a boomerang of hurt, saying “helpful” things such as, “no wonder it’s chaos in here,” and “who set up this god-awful training, I didn’t learn a thing!” You burrowed into your last volunteer position and waited, spider style until an unsuspecting staff member or other volunteer got tangled in your verbal stings. Your expected call back time is, well, let’s just say your information will just magically get lost in a trash web of our own. But thanks for calling!””
I suppose we could cut corners and just automate the upfront work we put into developing volunteers, but it wouldn’t work. No robotic system can come close to how good we are at fleshing out volunteer motivations and personalities. Maybe someday AI can learn to match volunteers with the role that will create a synergy between meaningful work that keeps the volunteer coming back while making a profound difference in the lives of those we serve. Maybe someday, but not today.
Maybe we are a lot more valuable than we think.
-Meridian
this is an update from an old post. Like almost 5 years ago…woah.
Value: It’s a head-scratching concept, right? Like, what is the value of friendship, or the value of sitting next to a waterfall, letting the sound soothe you?
I just finished reading the book, “The Worth of a Volunteer; And You Thought Physics was Super Complicated, Volume 2.” Some experts say we should use a set dollar amount for volunteer time spent and other folks think we should attach an amount equivalent to the job being done by each volunteer. No matter how you approach it, (for something completely different, see The Value of a Volunteer: $I#.@S) a monetary amount is routinely attributed to volunteer hours, because announcing at the annual luncheon “our volunteers contributed the equivalent of 87,632 hugs” just doesn’t have the same oomph.
But hey, what about volunteer managers? What is our time worth beyond volunteer management? You know for all the extra stuff we do. Just for comparison sake, let’s try using a dollar amount and look at average salaries for all the added jobs we do. You know, the ones that never make it into the help wanted ads for: “Volunteer Coordinator. Lots of fun times. Must love working with people and Earl Grey Tea. Super-duper positive attitude is required. Must be good at multi-tasking and blowing up balloons.”
Mediator, including arbitration and conciliation: $65000 yearly or $31.25 hourly. Don’t scoff just yet. We are continuously arbitrating. We mediate volunteers and staff misunderstandings, we conciliate with volunteers who want to quit because they were not treated well, or recognized or engaged in a timely manner. Heck, we are mediating from the moment a volunteer sets foot in the door. Gone are the days when we just slot a volunteer into a handy dandy role. We arbitrate everything from how the volunteer will utilize their skills to the flexibility of their assignment (pssst, it’s called volunteer engagement for a reason).
CEO small business: $158000 yearly or $75 hourly. Bear with me here. Let’s be honest. We, volunteer managers run our own human capital company. It may not state that on our job description, but it’s the truth. We are HR, marketing, legal, mediation, financial, visionaries all rolled into one. We run the operation.
Marketing: $64000 yearly or $30.75 hourly. So yeah, I know I included marketing in the above description. I’m talking about another marketing here, marketing our organizations to our communities above and beyond what is done by the marketing department (no disrespect guys, you do a fine job). Our volunteers, (like an additional huge team of town criers that just fell from the heavens) through WOMM (word of mouth marketing) are out there, day in and day out, promoting our organizations because we, volunteer managers equip them with facts, stories, inspiration and a call to action.
Babysitter: $15 hourly or $31,000 yearly if they worked 40 hours a week. Oh heck yeah, we babysit. We babysit staff’s kids when they bring them in on a day that school is out and the staff member trots them down to our office saying, “oh, my son Pax and his sister Serenity are so mature for their age and would love to volunteer for the next 8 hours.” Then Pax and Serenity proceed to run up and down the hallways screaming at each other, tossing the airplanes they made out of the client files and you get in trouble. Or how about the time the CEO brings in their distant cousin’s niece who was kicked out of summer camp and now her family thinks “volunteering for some poor guy” will straighten her out?
Psychologist: $72000 yearly or $34.50 hourly. Ok, I wanted to use psychiatrist at $200,000 yearly, but we can’t prescribe medication although we may very well recommend a person go get some chemical help so there’s that. Yup, we are known for our empathetic listening and not only do we listen to volunteers, we listen to staff too. They seek us out to vent, empty their guts and bend our ears because we’re so darned good at understanding. Organizations would have to pay buckets of money that was probably earmarked for a senior manager retreat to counsel overworked staff and we do it routinely. You’re welcome.
Actor: $50 hourly or $104,000 yearly. Stop laughing because we regularly have to employ acting skills. Uh huh, how about that time when out of nowhere, the rules concerning what volunteers are allowed to do become restricted and we have to “sell” it to the volunteers although we vehemently disagree with the new rules? That’s when we could honestly win an Academy Award for our performance. I can see it now: “Best performance by an actor in the “Oh Boy, This is Some Great News and We Don’t Care If You’ll Love It or Not” category, goes to volunteer manager Betsy! Yay! Come on up and get your golden two-faced statue, Betsy!”
Volunteer coordinator: $15.99 hour or $33,250 yearly. Hey wait, that’s most of us! Jeesh, we make just a little over a babysitter (and let me just say, I am not putting down babysitters; you guys have a really tough job and we respect you because we have done your job (see above) and we get it!)
Project manager: $75000 yearly or $36 hourly. We manage complicated projects and engage people. It’s that simple.
Cheerleader: Not going to include salary; it’s convoluted but somewhere in the $100 range per game for pro sports. Clearly it’s not a living wage. I guess cheerleaders are kinda like us volunteer managers-it’s a privilege to have the job so don’t think about the money. Anyway, we are the ultimate cheerleaders! Rah!
Animal control: All right, I just threw that in because my office was at the front of the building and I was always the one to shoo out the invading species. This one time, there was a baby rattlesnake…well, I won’t bore you with the whole jacket and rake details and I’m still here, so it turned out fine (animal control people don’t make nearly enough money for what they do!).
Ok, if we now do complicated math and add all these salaries up and then divide by 100, no wait that’s decimal, hmmm, maybe the number of entries, yes, I think that’s right, then our average salary should be about $36 hourly or (drum roll) $75,000 a year on average, meaning that with any experience, we are up in the $100,000 range (£82,000 or $145,000 Australian or $131,000 Canadian or $151,000 New Zealand). That’s more like it.
But then we have to throw in all the hours we work off the clock, like when volunteers call us after hours, or when we recruit new volunteers while at the store. Or how about when we go to a volunteer’s granddaughter’s soccer game, or when we spend our Wednesday evening at a volunteer funeral? Or how about Saturday afternoon when we attend that sewing circle meeting to thank the ladies that made a pillow cover embroidered with the phrase “you’re never given more than you can handle” for the pillow on the lobby bench? Or what about when we patiently listen to a staff member who comes up to us at a restaurant on a Friday night to complain that a volunteer was late and then we educate them on how to treat a volunteer while we chew our now cold Fettuccine Alfredo?
I guess we have to say we work 70 hours a week, so hmmm. No wonder we only make $15.99 an hour.
Well, I’ve been laid off. My organization just ordered 2 new robot volunteers. it’s a budget thing. See, the ‘roboteers’ don’t need lengthy policy orientation, or need someone to listen to their robot vacation stories, or need to call me for directions because staff mixed up Hunter Street with Gunter Lane.
Introducing, Compassion Nate 3000, and Evie Efficient XP. They have been carefully programmed by senior management to mimic what they believe real human volunteers say and do. Let’s look at their volunteering debut.
On his first day, Compassion Nate 3000’s eyes open and he hums, “I am the ultimate extra hands of helping.” Several pairs of robot claws unfold. He’s dropped off at a nursing home to visit Miss Aida where he scurries about, tidying up her room, throwing away the pictures her grandchildren drew because he mistook them for trash. Miss Aida wakes to see a metallic face peering down at her and she screams. Compassion Nate grabs her wrists and arms with several robot hands and holds her down, repeating in his electronic voice, “calm down human, I am your extra layer of caring.” Miss Aida continues to scream until one of the nursing home robots, Facility Friend 800 appears and puts Compassion Nate in a robot choke hold. Nate releases Miss Aida and turns, saying, “I am here to hold a hand.” He gives Facility Friend a crushing bear hug of loving support, turning her into scrap. A traumatized Miss Aida is subdued by real humans.
On Evie Efficient’s first day, she replaces all the volunteers who were scheduled to help at the walk/run. Assigned to the water station, she waits in the middle of the road. Her heart-shaped red light pulsating with robot love, she hands out water to the runners. As the startled runners make a wide arc to avoid her, she chases them, repeating in her robot voice, “I’m the cherry on top of our compassion sundae.” Frightened runners leave the course and run away in all directions, Evie zipping behind, throwing bottles of water at them. Her heart light morphs into a frustrated emoji face as she increases speed. “There’s no I in team but there’s a U in Roboteer, so let me care for you,” she emotes as she grabs the leg of a slow runner, tripping him. She uncaps a bottle of water and pours it over his horrified face, saying “I don’t get paid, because I’m priceless!” Law enforcement is called to quell the riot and an officer tasers Evie, who powers down, muttering, “Two hands….. one………. big…………………………. heart………………………………………… Daisy………………………….daisy…give me your answer true.”
Ahhhh, robot volunteers, such a great idea. But I think I’m going to sit by my phone tomorrow. I just might get a call.
Yes, it’s true. We, volunteer managers cannot maintain a neutral expression when we hear a staff member tell a volunteer, “thanks for offering to help sweetie, but this is complicated.”
I can’t begin to count the number of times I’d catch someone watching my face during a meeting when a manager would be speaking and I’d be thinking, “yeah, our volunteer Andre told me you call volunteers ‘window dressing’.”
People would say to me, “ha, you have no poker face,” to which I’d scrunch up my nose and very cleverly respond, “oh yeah?” But they were right. I mean, how can we, volunteer managers actually keep a poker face when all those thoughts are rattling around inside our heads like “WHAT THE HECK IS A PARADIGM SHIFT ANYWAY?”
So, before you can’t stop yourself from busting out laughing when your supervisor says, “I think the volunteers will love our luncheon theme this year: Volunteers are the sprinkles atop our cupcake of caring,” here are my top volunteer manager poker face ideas:
Botox: Personally, I can’t afford Botox so I just slather my face with egg whites (please note-some skin cannot tolerate egg whites, so be careful and I always use organic eggs because I figure my face is organic). You are supposed to wash the egg whites off, but heck, I just leave them on because my face is then frozen into this super shiny mask which is great because it also scares people away and then, well, problem solved.
Argue that it’s opposite day: This one is sooooo easy it’s almost criminal. Anytime you feel yourself giving the “stink eye” to the person who just suggested that “we can enlist volunteers to do the cleanup,” just break into a smile and claim, “it’s opposite day, right? Didn’t you get that memo?”
Look around at the confused faces and say, “so you really meant that staff should do the cleanup, am I right?” (the only problem here is, every time you laugh at something that day, you’ll have to start crying. You’ll probably be forced to see one of the counselors, but that’s when you throw the receptionist under the bus and say that she was the one who told you it was opposite day or maybe she said optimist, who knows).
Enroll in a drama class or at least pretend to: Walk around spouting monologues with exaggerated expressions and claim you are practicing for an upcoming audition at your local community theater’s production of A Streetcar Named Desire. (Bonus points if you proclaim, “I’m not just interested in performing, I want to recruit volunteers while I’m there, because well, method actors make great volunteers, don’t you agree?”) When you are caught rolling your eyes in the next meeting, say, “wow that made me think of Blanche Dubois when Stanley yells S-t-e-l-l-a!”
Create a mantra in your head: If you can silently repeat a mantra over and over, it settles the muscles in your face. You look glassy-eyed and creepy (especially if you have egg whites on your face), but hey, at least you’re not scowling. My mantra was always, “don’t take yourself too seriously, cause they don’t, don’t take yourself too seriously, cause they don’t.” Point to your third eye and announce, “I may look like I don’t see you, but I do.”
Fake choking: When you feel your eyebrows rising, start to cough and then fake like you just swallowed your own spit. Bend over and get your face out of view. Someone may try the Heimlich maneuver on you, but a few bruised ribs are a small price to pay (I used to just tape my ribs up and the bonus here was I didn’t have to wear my Spanx shapers those days). Yell, “ow, ow, you’re hurting me,” so that your expression looks like you are in pain and then demand some personal leave time to recover.
Breathe in and pretend there’s a putrid smell: When you notice that tick in your eyelid pulsating, wrinkle up your nose and whip your head back and forth, saying, “do you smell that? Ewwwwww.” (Bonus here is if the person who just said to you, “hey your volunteer was late today,” thinks they are the one who smells, so look directly at them and hold your nose).
Wear headphones: Yes, I know that you are not supposed to wear headphones all the time, but I’d wear one ear bud and let the other dangle down. I’d put little penguin charms on the dangling earbud so it looked like a necklace. Then, when you make that tsk tsk face, burst into laughter and claim you were just listening to a motivational speech (Bonus here is when you then add, “I laughed at the absurdity of the speech, because I realized, working here needs no motivation!” Then rip the remaining ear bud from your ear and don’t forget to pick up all the penguin charms that probably flew off the other earbud and hit a few people).
Do face yoga or face exercises while in meetings: Tell everyone that you are doing facial exercises to improve the muscle tone in your face. It doesn’t hurt if you add that it’s a proven method to lose weight or you can just say that you are entering the Non-Profit Facial Olympics in 2020 and your event is holding a laser pointer between your upper lip and nose while explaining a PowerPoint graph. Be sure to add some grunts or whooshes with your exercises to give it plausibility, sort of like Maria Sharapova when she hits a forehand.
Well, there you have it. Worry no more about your lack of poker face, because any one of these methods should keep you out of trouble. You might get labeled as off your rocker, but hey, at least you’re not negative which we all know is the worst label ever you can have in a non-profit.
So, my friends, don’t get caught being negative. Just be quirky.
You know, there’s gotta be a bunch of people out there who falsely claim they are volunteer managers. Why? They want to be us. They want the glory that comes with our station in the non-profit world. Yeah, I figure they think they’ll skate through life if they pretend to have one of the most coveted titles in the non-profit world.
So, I decided to create a quiz that will identify a true, authentic volunteer manager. Believe me, it’s foolproof. Jump on over to Survey Monkey and see if you can get the right answers! (you can only take it once) -it’s the free version of course so it’s pretty basic, which is so typical of volunteer managers, right? We are masters at using the free stuff as best as we can…… ’cause, well, you know the reason.
volunteerplaintalk 