I’m guessing you don’t own the 32,000 page book, “Everything You Must Know About Engaging Volunteers, Part 1.” I have a copy, but I’m only on Chapter 73, “Volunteers who ask questions that are not really questionsand how to address the criticisms hidden within.”
How do you describe our jobs? Engaging volunteers is in many ways like a growing tree. At first we struggle to understand the job. We’re green and new and easily blown by the wind. But then we grow, fed by the profound differences we see volunteers make, the sunlight of possibilities and the nutrient rich experiences our volunteers bring, not only to the work, but to us personally.
When one has taken root, one puts out branches
Jules Verne
We grow, stronger in our conviction, taller in reaching for the sky, broader in understanding. And then, we develop branches that reach in all directions, adding to the living ecosystem that supports a thriving community.
What a teddy bear taught me
I think about volunteer Cara, who sewed memory bears for grieving survivors (memory bears are made from a garment the survivor provides that belonged to the loved one who died). A young man had died while serving in the military, and his family requested a bear be made from his Marine Corps dress blues. I immediately thought of Cara because she was an expert seamstress and her work was impeccable. She accepted, but a few days later, Cara called me with a concern. I assumed her concern had to do with the difficulty in working with the dress blues’ fabric.
Cara came to see me and sat, tears welling in her eyes and told me that when she picked up the scissors and made the first cut into the uniform, she broke down and couldn’t go on. Her father was a Marine. So was her brother. She deeply understood what the uniform represented and cutting into it brought home the devastation the young man’s family was feeling. It was personal for her.
From experience, comes growth
In that moment, I realized that the volunteers who made memory bears didn’t just sew a bear. Through sewing, they entered a person’s life and pain when they cut into the cherished garment. They held a person’s grief in their hands, and stitched a lifetime of memories together in a teddy bear shape that could be hugged and talked to through tears. Those selfless volunteers experienced the aching loss a survivor felt for their loved one. And yet, they continued to sew.
After that day with Cara, I asked a grief counselor to attend our memory bear volunteer meetings. Not only did the grief counselor share the recipients reactions to receiving the bears, she was able to help the volunteers process their feelings. Had Cara not been brutally honest with me, I might never have thought beyond the volunteers’ ability to sew a stitch. Thanks to her, I began to look at not only the memory bear volunteers and their well-being, but it opened me to look for other ways to support volunteers. I sprouted a branch.
Hands-on learning grows branches
Experiential learning teaches us to apply knowledge from doing. It forces us to experiment until we get things right. It propels us to take initiative to solve challenges. It makes leaders of volunteers think like visionaries. It gives us branches that reach high.
Embrace your experiences. It feels like 2020 has given us way more experiences than we can handle, but it has also caused us to:
ask the hard questions
rethink systems and procedures and reimagine them in strategic ways
take initiatives to keep what is working and redesign what is not
be curious
look beyond the status quo to find better solutions
connect in new ways with peers, with staff, with the community
expand possibilities
examine our pre-conceived notions about the way things have always been done
evaluate our role in leading volunteers
As I thumb through “Everything You Must Know About Engaging Volunteers, Part 1,” I notice there’s no chapter on “World-wide pandemics and the disruption of volunteering.”
Maybe that will be addressed in Part 2.
-Meridian
P.S. I will be posting twice a month instead of weekly starting January 2021. Happy New Year all. I hope this year brings new joy, new experiences and new hope for our wonderful, complex and growing profession.
Do volunteer managers possess the skills required to succeed in the corporate world?
I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Sally Garrett, a recent leader of volunteers who has taken a managerial position in the world of retail. Sally was the manager of a St. Vincent de Paul depot, an Australian branded “Vinnies” retail thrift store, the highest grossing and net profit store in Western Australia while under her leadership.
VPT (volunteerplaintalk): Can you briefly describe your current job?
S (Sally): My Current job is as a Retail Manager of a lifestyle super store with 26 paid staff.
VPT: How long have you been in this position?
S: I have been here 1 month.
VPT: Before this position, what was your job as a volunteer manager?
S: I ran a large not for profit processing and pick up depot and retail outlet.
VPT: How long were you in that position?
S: Two and a half years.
VPT: What skills do you feel you developed as a volunteer manager and how did they translate to the position you now have?
S: The biggest skills I developed are empathy, patience, organizing people, time management and being able to teach others that they are more than they believe they are.
VPT: What skills helped you the most in moving into your new position?
S: I guess because I had been rostering and managing large volumes of people all doing small roles, the biggest skill that has helped me in my new role is patience. You can’t rush volunteers and you develop a skill of being able to step back and look at the bigger picture all the time, so it became a habit to stop, look and listen. This has helped so much in my present job, because as I have a lot to learn, I am not at all overwhelmed. I am much more rounded in my approach to my team and I listen a lot more and act less, but it’s action with conviction. This means when I do act, it is for the long-term and not the short-term.
I have already found that many people can sort out problems for themselves and become self autonomous rather than needy. I can quickly detect when people are good at what they do or need better training because I’m watching them and listening. I’m not trying to learn their job so much anymore, but placing acknowledgment in what they can do. This has made my new team feel more confident and then their skills began to shine.
The second skill is having learned to not take credit for what others do, but rather celebrate their gifts and achievements. I don’t feel the need to own others’ successes. I have developed the ability to lead, not manage.
The third, most important skill is that I don’t take anything personal. I am impartial to people because I know it is about them not me, and every action someone takes says things about them, not me. So, if someone is frustrated they may call me names or tell me I am not doing my job but this translates into the fact that they are telling me they need more training and are feeling overwhelmed or vulnerable. This took a long time to learn. I always thought I was doing things wrong in this situation until a volunteer pointed out to me that the other 120 people loved what I did and felt supported, so once this skill kicked in it just meant going back to basics and taking time for a cuppa and a chat and getting to the real problem which was 100% of the time the person left feeling vulnerable for some other reason.
VPT: When you accepted this new position, did you find that your volunteer management experience helped you get the job? Any actual feedback from your new supervisor on your volunteer management experience?
S: When interviewing for the position I applied for, I was calm and confident as I knew I had become a leader and not a manager so the interview process was easy and effortless. I had nothing to prove; they either wanted my skill set or they didn’t. If I wasn’t a good fit, I didn’t want to be there.
I was asked to take on a much larger role than I applied for in the interview; the position was in another shop as they felt I would be of value in that role with a larger team and a busier store. As it turns out I came across as soft and compassionate but with a deep knowledge of people. This is what progressive organizations want. They don’t want bosses anymore, they want team leaders and that’s what you are as a volunteer manager.
VPT: Are there skills that volunteer managers lack, or do not realize are important if they are seeking jobs other than in the world of volunteerism?
S: Acknowledge your value!
I believe a volunteer manager is much more qualified at team leadership than anyone gives them credit for, including themselves. It is a huge task being a volunteer manager and when in the role it doesn’t feel it is that important, but you touch the very core of people when they are a volunteer. Because they aren’t there for money, you find out more of what makes people tick so translating that to paid staff roles, you are able to make your staff really feel cared for when they come to work.
You have developed an ability to shut the work-space out and make eye contact and listen to them and answer their questions. whether it be personal or work related. You have developed the ability to validate people, and that’s what our world needs more of. You are also able to adapt quickly because volunteer management deals with absences regularly. You know how to get work done with few, if any help. Acknowledging the confidence that you know it will get done when the team is there, gives you a calmness and that drives people to help more and work harder. People love that you are in control and that you appreciate their efforts rather than stressing and then making them feel less when they are giving more. All volunteer managers develop this skill.
VPT: How can volunteer managers prepare themselves to enter the world of corporate management?
S: Be the very best version of yourself, it’s really that simple; being authentic and not promising things you can’t deliver, the rest falls into place. When you develop the calmness of self-confidence, you can learn anything; the skill of managing people is the highest of all skills you need in life and work and you have that in the bag once you are a successful volunteer manager.
VPT: Is there any advice you would like to give your fellow volunteer managers?
S: Give them (volunteers) 15 minutes undivided attention and induct, induct, induct!
Make sure when your volunteers start, you have given them your time whether it is 15 minutes at the start or the whole induction if you can, that time is what the volunteer remembers, because volunteers revere you; they know how hard your job is and they see you as their guiding light. If you only knew how powerful you are you wouldn’t worry about a thing. But that’s where volunteer managers are the most successful. We don’t settle for second best because it always has to be the best. Aiming for the stars on every task is what we do. Landing on the moon is not good enough for us, but it’s great to everyone else.
Know you are saving lives! There is a high number of volunteers that are volunteering due to mental illness preventing them from holding down a paying job. Know that you are potentially providing the healthy, stable and compassionate environment that these people need to gain new skills and give their life purpose. It surprised me to be told on three occasions that it was because of me, personally that three people got up and tried again another day rather than ending their lives. It both shocked me and made me seek help myself to understand my role more fully. The knowledge of each person over my time in Volunteer Management truly made me see how I changed lives and how powerful and responsible my role was and how important it was to be transparent in all I did. I had to understand that it wasn’t my responsibility to take this knowledge on board personally and that it was only a part of the role. But the knowledge was confronting and it changed my dealings with people. Compassion isn’t being weak, it is the exact opposite.
Relax more and stress less, develop the ability to tell people they can do it on their own. Softly, gently encouraging and convincing people they are wonderful and able, is the greatest skill ever. It is the most productive management tool in the workplace.
What incredibly inspiring words for leaders of volunteers. Thank you Sally for sharing your wisdom and experience with us. All the best to you in your new position. They are very fortunate to have you on board.
So, the next time all of you volunteer managers feel under appreciated, remember these words from Sally: I was asked to take on a much larger role than I applied for in the interview; the position was in another shop as they felt I would be of value in that role with a larger team and a busier store.
Or, in reality, “The Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad, Completely Upsetting, “Don’t Make Me Do It,” “I Think I’m Going to Be Sick” Day. Yes, that should pretty much cover it.
Having that conversation with a volunteer-you know the one, the one where you have to discuss a complaint during that mean chat that will forever label you a terrible, cold person for hurting the helpless volunteer. You may as well burn the volunteer’s house down too while you’re at it-that’s how soul-less you are.
So, how do we start a difficult conversation with a volunteer after a complaint has been made? And how do we prepare ourselves to have the confidence to do the right thing without melting down into mush? For what it’s worth, here are a few suggestions that I hope help you.
Remember that you are the best person for this challenge: You have recruited and cultivated this volunteer. You care about them and will do what is necessary to see them succeed. And leaving them to fail is ultimately more cruel than helping them remain on track. Tip: Keep reminding yourself that clearing the air and guiding a volunteer is a growing experience for all of you and you will get through this.
Practice your opening line: “I wanted to sit down with you today and chat about how things are going,” is fine, but volunteers really need us to get to the point. The more you dance around the topic, the more uncomfortable it becomes for you and the volunteer. It’s better if you nicely state the complaint up front. “Emma, I wanted to meet with you today, because one of the visitors to our museum called us to say that last Friday you were too busy to show their disabled son where the bathroom was located. You are one of our finest docents and have been for over five years now and I want to hear your side of the story. Do you recall this particular incident?” Tip: Tell yourself to use the exact words of the complaint-don’t water them down because the volunteer deserves the opportunity to respond to the exact charges that were brought.
Don’t apologize for the conversation: Starting out with “I’m so sorry to call you in for this,” or “I hate that we have to talk about this” creates the impression that your organization’s ethical standards are meaningless. Tip: Tell yourself that being neutral, not apologetic helps the volunteer think and respond more clearly.
Assure the volunteer that you are open-minded and fair but don’t put words in their mouth: “Emma, we want to hear your side of the story,” or, “Emma, let’s talk about what happened,” is better than saying, “I’m sure the complaint is unfounded,” or “this must be a misunderstanding.” Tip: Tell yourself that if the complaint is indeed a misunderstanding, then it will surely become obvious and not to worry. If the complaint is well founded, then you have an amazing opportunity to help this volunteer regain their footing.
Don’t diminish the person(s) who made the complaint: Saying, “don’t worry, this person complains about everyone,” or “they probably just had a bad day,” negates the actual complaint. Tip: Tell yourself that bridging relationships is one of your strong skill sets and seeing both sides validated is a chance to bring both sides together.
Allow ample time for discussion: Here is the area in which you will excel at nice-guy volunteer management. These conversations ebb and flow-but the savvy volunteer manager rides the spoken waves with the recurring message that the volunteer’s time and effort is invaluable and their concerns are worth hearing and discussing, even if their actions are in the wrong. Tip: Trust your instincts to tell you when you know the volunteer is satisfied that their feelings, opinions and aspirations are validated. That is when you can move forward with a resolution.
Follow up with diligence: This step takes you from a manager to a leader. Speak with both parties after your initial conversation to ensure that the resolution works for both and that there are no lingering issues. Tip: Use your best mediation skills to assure both parties that your goal is to provide the finest volunteer involvement possible and that you believe in each person. Keep following up periodically until you see the resolution has been met.
We can view difficult conversations in the same way we view traveling to a new place. We can tell ourselves that we will hate the new place by thinking things like “It’s going to be too hot,” “I will hate the food,” “the people are too strange,” etc. That usually becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. Or, like the person who welcomes traveling somewhere out of the comfort zone, we can entertain the idea that this new experience will help us grow, both as a manager and leader.
Choosing to grow and embrace challenging conversations will strengthen not only your program, but yourself as well. So, while it is perfectly normal to dread a difficult conversation, don’t let the opportunity to excel go to waste.
Managing volunteers is very much like attending a life university in which there are classes on leadership, psychology, history, arts, health, philosophy, science and sometimes when you get lucky enough, quantum physics. We not only learn from our volunteers, but also each other, our clients, and our staff. No wonder we brush off the day-to-day hard stuff. We’re here to learn and grow.
Sometimes, that learning is tiny, almost imperceptible like a diamond lying in the dust under our feet until a shaft of sunlight illuminates the sparkle and only then, we stop to pick it up and turn it over in our hand, enthralled by the worth of such a tiny object.
Dot was a snip of a woman, outliving her husband by years, childless, left alone with her money and an emptying change purse of friends. She came to the hospice care center, her mind and demands intact and she could speak about the service aboard cruise lines as I could tell you where to find the best deal on hot dogs. She came with a short list of foods she would eat and an even longer list of those she would not. It was challenging for the volunteers who cooked in the kitchen and I tried to help them as much as possible to not become discouraged by difficult demands and critiques.
One morning after hearing the food stories of the previous day, I noticed that potato pancakes were on Dot’s “will eat” list and I thought of my deceased grandmother who had made them from scratch. Surely, I reasoned, scratch potato pancakes would calm Dot’s critical tongue, so I tied on a ruffled apron and got to work. I fancied myself on an episode of Iron Chef and put my heart and soul into 3 perfectly cooked pancakes. Feeling flush with satisfaction, I covered them with the tenderness of a new mother and brought them down to her room. She was looking out the window as I knocked.
“Good morning,” I chirped as she fixed me with eyes of steel. “I have something special for you, Dot.”
“What is it?” she growled, a big cat cornered in our prettily decorated trap.
I gently removed the cover, exposing my precious gift as I approached her tray table. “Potato pancakes, I made them just for you,” I said, breathless, waiting for that appreciative look I’d come to crave.
Dot looked at me then down at the plate. She inspected the pancakes as though they were secretly holding explosives and then she looked back at me. “Take them away,” she said with a wave of her hand.”Everybody with any sense knows you put black pepper in potato pancakes.” With that her gaze turned to the window again. I was dismissed.
Crushed like a flower beneath the stampeding herd, I headed back to the kitchen and scraped the three chef worthy pancakes into the garbage. I continued my day, the sting of rejection clouding my happiness.
I packaged that experience and unwrapped it later at home, letting my thoughts go anywhere they wanted. Why was she so ornery? Why couldn’t she just acknowledge my gift for what it was? Why did this hurt? Why do I bother?
Then, a prick of sunlight set itself on the dusty diamond. I began to ask myself these questions: Why did I assume she wanted those pancakes without my asking? Why did I cook them for her in the first place? Why, if I wanted to be of service, was this about me and my feelings?
From that day on, I tried to be better at focusing on the client and by extension, any volunteer or friend or family member or staff member instead of myself. I began to ask more questions and listen less to my voice. I began to free myself from personalizing everything.
When I would help out in the kitchen and take an order from a patient, I would ask them, “how do you want that prepared?” It’s amazing how many ways you can prepare toast, for instance-white, wheat, rye, pumpernickel, lightly toasted, toasted dark, dry or with butter or olive oil, whole or cut into two or four, rectangular or triangle-shaped, with or without jelly or peanut butter or honey or chocolate or maybe hummus. But the point was to give the person what they wanted without making them feel like a burden or without a self congratulating experience.
I have been fortunate over the years to be humbled again and again, especially at times when I started to think that I just knew more than everybody else.
Humility is one vastly underrated quality. It instills a sense of peace and curiosity and just might make someone like Dot feel a heck of a lot less captured.
And oh, I now make potato pancakes with black pepper in them, because everybody knows that’s the way you do it.
My favorite patient at hospice was George. I don’t have any idea why. Maybe it was because he and I discussed sports comfortably. Maybe it was because he was so young and had a brain tumor and it was so darn unfair. Maybe it was because he would forget the name of the pitcher or linebacker or hockey center he was referencing, and then would remember the name the minute I left the room, so he would wheel out and shout down the hallway, “I remember, it was Stan Mikita!” Then the staff would shush him and I would chuckle, and give him a thumbs up. And maybe there’s just no reason why I felt so connected to him.
George was divorced and had a twelve year old daughter whom he saw infrequently. We talked about his inability to see her grow up. I would leave his room and cry but something made me go back every day. And when his daughter’s birthday approached, a couple of volunteers and I went out and bought presents so that George could give her something. The volunteers had fun wrapping those presents in pink and purple and gobs of glitter.
I still remember the day George’s daughter was planning to come and see him. I happened to be walking down the hall of the care center, and I peeked in to see if George needed anything else on this joyous occasion. Instead, I saw him sitting in bed, quietly crying, one of the presents at his side. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I looked in for a just a few seconds.
But in those intimate moments, the veil fell away and I saw the heavy shackles that bound him to us. The massive chains of our compassion tethered him to our desire to help and the heavy links now became visible through his pain.
Were his tears made of joy or sorrow? Did he cry from joy because we helped him or did he cry because he had lost control of everything precious and dear and was now dependent upon the kindness of strangers? Did he feel trapped, allowed to walk only as far as our chains would allow and only in the perimeter of our understanding?
Do the people we serve once in a while verbally strike out at us and can it be that they sometimes feel shackled to us? Is it kind of like the stranglehold the skydiving instructor has on the newbie skydiver who is strapped in tight and really is just a ride along on the way down? Does our tandem journey through folks’ lives sometimes strap them to our protective helping?
I went back to my office and closed the door and sat down. I wondered, in all our feel good desire to help, did we rob George of his last shred of dignity? Do we, sometimes in our exuberance, forget that a real person with complex feelings is on the end of that strap?
I continued to see George until he died. But after that day, I started to see him as more complex, more in charge and more mysterious. I could still see the shackles that bound him to us, but the volunteers and I discussed how to better serve his needs without strengthening the chain.
It’s true, the shackles were still there, but we tried our darnedest to make sure George had a key.
“Is it too much to ask?” Calista queries while wiping grape jelly off the hands of her five-year old. She smiles and pats him on the head as he runs off to join his three older sisters in the yard. She drops the rag on the counter and sits down on the bar stool. “I’m not a high maintenance person, not at all. But, I mean, I do need some consistency and direction.”
Calista started volunteering for her PTA after some pretty heavy pressure by the PTA officers. “Maybe it’s because I have four kids in that school,” she laughs, “but I became a target for their recruitment. Maybe it’s because I’m a loan officer at the bank which makes everyone assume I’m the goddess of paperwork. And I know every volunteer group has their share of paperwork!”
Feeling the need for parents to step up, Calista agreed to volunteer and she set aside time for the next meeting. “I’m fortunate because my husband, Josh is great and encouraged me to get involved so I did. After dinner one night, I headed out for my first meeting. I was introduced to the President, a nice lady named Jenna and I met all the other officers as well. They seemed very pleased to have me join the group.” Calista leaned back. “They had quite a number of projects going, including holiday events, fund-raisers and volunteering in the classroom. After the meeting was over, I realized they had gotten me to sign up for a call tree and also as a member of the awards committee.” Calista giggled. “Oh, they were good. I kind of liked the two areas I signed up for. The call tree I could easily do from home and the awards committee sounded fun. At the end of the year there would be awards for students, teachers, parents and even office staff. I have to admit, I was hooked.”
Calista thought for a moment. “Every month I would faithfully attend the meeting. Jenna, the president took me aside and asked if I would research prices on awards for the award ceremony, present my findings at the next meeting and I agreed. I wasn’t being utilized on the call tree and I just figured that no calls needed to be made, but at the next meeting I was armed with the awards information. I had spent a good amount of free time gathering prices, guarantees, choices, etc. But when I got to the meeting, I found that the president had already contracted with a company to create the awards. When I asked the president about my research, she said that it may come in handy next year, but that she had to act fast on a promotion that someone sent her. I gotta tell you, I was annoyed. She could have emailed me so that I didn’t waste my time.”
Calista was a victim of Lack of Communication (LOC).
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I have been guilty of the LOC malady. And I had no good excuse for my lack of communication. Now here’s the thing about committing a LOC on volunteers. A real volunteer’s time and effort is disrespected by misdirection, no call back or no follow through. Running into a volunteer that is awaiting your call is like rounding the cat food aisle to see someone you owe 20 bucks to and forgot to pay. When we see this volunteer do we say, “Yeah, I could have called you to tell you that the project you were so excited to be part of has been scrapped but I chose the cowardly way by ignoring it and you.”
Being mindful of volunteers’ time and effort is crucial to volunteer retention. We can’t give a volunteer an assignment or tell them we will call them without following through on that promise, because it is a promise, a promise to treat them as a valued member of our team. And, as if we didn’t have enough work, we cannot let other staff members commit a LOC either. We have to be on top of their treatment of volunteers too.
But what about those conversations in a hallway, or on your day off in the store when you promise something to a volunteer but don’t write it down or store it in your phone? If I had a dollar for every time that happened to me I’d have a nice little nest egg right now. When I’d finally given up on the idea that I could remember everything (yep, you’re right, control issues), I began to be more honest. “Well, Donna, I’m so glad we ran into each other here in the feminine hygiene aisle and we got to talk about your wanting to get involved in that new project. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you work with us, thank you so much. Can I ask you a favor? I’m afraid that because it’s a Sunday evening and I don’t have a notepad with me, I might let this conversation slip and I would be mortified if I didn’t call you tomorrow with that information. Would you mind calling me tomorrow to remind me? You would? Thank you, you’re the best!”
Now, when Donna calls the next day, I can chuckle and say, “Thank you for calling me. I was so excited that I was just about to call you, but sometimes I forget. You are unforgettable of course, but now let’s talk about your involvement.”
If a volunteer calls and says, “I haven’t heard from you…” that is red flag territory. For whatever reason, that volunteer was handed a LOC. Open it with honesty.
Honesty goes a long way. Sincerity gallops right along with honesty. I’ve had to say, “I didn’t call you because I’m an idiot,” and “I didn’t get that information because I let time get away from me and I sincerely apologize.” Ouch, It’s sobering to realize that I’m not super volunteer coordinator. But, I am human and I do care about volunteers’ time and energies.
Calista sighed deeply. “You know, it would have been ok had I gotten some sort of acknowledgement that my effort was for naught. An apology, a reason I wasn’t informed, something. That would have gone a long way to make me feel valued.”
Volunteers do not expect us to be perfect. However, they do expect their time and efforts to be valued. Communicating is about valuing them. And too many sloppy LOCs will produce a volunteer LOC out!
-Meridian
On the door of Chief Executive Officer Cynthia Obsole’s office is a sign that says, “kind words can be short and easy to speak but their echoes are truly endless”. Her life is taken up by insular meetings; meetings with senior managers, meetings with donors and meetings with consultants. Her trusty right hand executive assistant, Miranda fetches the lattes, reminds her of her husband’s birthdays and stands in front of the door like an offensive left tackle on a Sunday afternoon. Ms. Obsole has years of non-profit leadership and is very pleased with the team that surrounds her. She is a pillar of the community, and the majority of senior managers vie to be the leader whose team does the most to further Ms. Obsole’s agendas.
For years she has run her non-profit with a central vision, one she had 30 years prior when she took over the mantel. She is an artisan, a person who, at home polishes her grandmother’s silver set.
Ms. Obsole is a non-profit wheelwright, a maker and repairman of wooden wagon wheels. Her non-profit is run like a craftsman’s shop from the turn of the last century. The product is just as beautiful as it was 30 years ago, but recently she hired a pioneer in the volunteer services department, Jess, a millennial, and recent college graduate who came to the organization trailing ideas she learned in classrooms full of youth. This volunteer coordinator, Jess wants to introduce some new concepts and fresh ideas.
Jess has successfully recruited her peers and a new brand type of volunteer, one that a pioneer recognizes as the future of volunteering.
Some of Jess’ recent recruits include:
Volunteer Doug who asks “why don’t we start an Instagram account? We can keep in touch with all the other volunteers and gain new recruits that way.”
Volunteer Keesha who wants her honor society to be involved but they are unable to volunteer except on weekends. “I’m sure you have some needs on weekends,” Keesha says, “that can be a time when your clients can be served or we can do upkeep on the building.”
Volunteer Maria who wants to volunteer with her twin six-year-old daughters. “I want them to learn about service at an early age,” she says, “while actually helping someone.”
Volunteer Travis who has a quirky fun idea for a fundraiser and can’t wait to try it out.
Volunteer Alshon who cannot do the brick and mortar volunteering but has a great desire to volunteer virtually.
Volunteer Kiera who is a speech major and would like to speak to campus groups. She wants to gain some experience in speech because she is studying political science and she believes in the mission.
Volunteer Zahn who has organized grass-roots movements and would like to stage a positive protest outside headquarters.
Jess has brought the ideas from these new volunteers to her superiors. She has argued that these innovations would not only enhance the work they are already doing, but would catapult their organization into a whole new realm.
Ms. Obesole, ever the craftsman, listens politely and says, “this is not how we do things, Jess, we are looking at all kinds of liability and risk here, not to mention how our managers are going to be able to rein in these volunteers. I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”
So Jess retreats and works on the wagon wheel along with all the other artisans and one day as she sitting at a recruitment table, a breath of wind stirs as the pioneer spirit breezes through her. She meets Jade, a 40 something marketing professional who is looking at the volunteer brochures. Jade captivates Jess with her explanation of brochures and how to arrange items so that people actually read the material. In Jade’s polished voice, Jess can see the landscape of uncharted territory opening before her. Excited, she obtains Jade’s information and makes an appointment to see Ms. Obesole.
Jess arrives, eager to share this prospective volunteer’s tantalizing offer to help the organization revamp outdated materials. Ms. Obesole listens politely and then pats Jess on the head, telling her that the volunteer’s offer is very sweet but “we have a team of marketers who know the mission so well. Let’s leave it up to them, shall we?” With that, Ms. Obesole returns to the wagon wheel and Jess goes back to her office, dejected, seeing her pioneering trip evaporate.
So Jess begins to look for another job and one day receives an offer with a start-up non-profit. Fortunately, Jess has kept the contacts she’s made while working for Ms. Obesole’s organization. She knows they will have a place with her in her new role.
And so, Jess dons her kerchief and hat and heads west.
Ms. Obesole? She continues to be a wheelwright until one day she looks around and says, “Where are all the wagons?”
-Meridian
Volunteer Appreciation week has always been a chance to reconnect with volunteers. There are those you see every day, those you talk to on the phone weekly, and those you only see at meetings. Each volunteer takes the right amount of interaction, praise and mental follow-up. Don’t think for a moment that an event is easy, so if after an event your head is swimming, that’s normal. Events take finesse and each volunteer that comes up to you takes a minute or two of intense volunteer retention. It’s worth every moment but it is exhausting.
There are a few volunteers who do not attend meetings, and they prefer to bob out there on the volunteering sea, wind in face, their hands skillfully steering them through storm and calm. They take little to no management interference for they have impeccable motivation, mad skills and they’ve circumnavigated the globe of helping far longer than they’ve been managed. Open their brains and a tide of experience comes gushing out. They are the historians, the pioneers, the explorers who have led the way in your organization.
I encountered Jenna at an event during volunteer appreciation week. I hadn’t seen her in quite some time so I was thrilled that she came. Jenna and I go way, way back. She was one of the first volunteers I recruited to work at a hospice house about 20 years ago. Jenna, a British transplant, married an American man and spent time tutoring local high school students in the fine art of composition. I even got to attend her swearing-in ceremony when she became a citizen. Back in the day, we roamed the halls of the house, imagining volunteer programs while caring for patients as we went. It was new territory to discover and Jenna was fired up to be in the middle of something unique and innovative.
Several years later, Jenna moved and she ended up visiting nursing homes in her new area. Another volunteer coordinator was now involved with Jenna and occasionally I talked to her new manager, Shelby, about how Jenna was doing.
“Fine, just fine,” Shelby would always say. “She pretty much keeps to herself though. I don’t have a lot of dealings with her. Sometimes I’m just happy if she comes to a meeting. But she does turn in her paperwork and the patients love her.”
Hmmmm. These conversations never felt like we were speaking about Jenna, at least not the Jenna I knew. But I always requested my hello be passed on to her.
So, during volunteer appreciation week, Jenna surprised me. She snuck up behind me as I was checking people in and popped me on the back. “Jenna!” I yelled and gave her a big hug. “Wow, I didn’t know you were coming!”
“I was in town,” she said, and smiled. “I figured you’d be here and I wanted to say hi.”
“I’m so glad you did,” I returned, genuinely pleased to see her.
Since the event took up time and effort, Jenna sat with some long-term volunteers that she knew. But after the event was over, she hung around and helped clean up.
“So, how’s it going?” I asked. “I heard you were visiting nursing homes. That must be pretty awesome for you.” I said as I crumbled up paper tablecloths.
“Yeah, it’s ok,” she offered, a bit half heartedly. “I love the patients, don’t get me wrong.” She stared at a candy dish.
“Then what is it?” I asked putting aside my cleaning.
“It isn’t, it just isn’t the same.” she said. “Don’t you miss those days when we first started? How the atmosphere was so exciting and we were the first ones to create so many things? All of us, staff and volunteers, we were in it together, we had this incredible chemistry and we did amazing work.” She traced the top of the dish. “I miss it. It just isn’t the same. I feel so, so ordinary.”
I put my hand on her back. “You, my friend, are an amazing, wonderful volunteer. We never could have done half the things we did without your vision and enthusiasm. Sure, I miss it. I miss you, too.”
She looked at me and I wondered where explorers go after they’ve discovered whatever it was they were looking for.
“Jenna,” I offered, “things have changed. Goodness knows, they’ve changed a lot and we couldn’t do today what we did back then. But you have so much to offer. Look at all you’ve done. That Jenna is still there. Still waiting to reconnect and imagine.”
“I think I might want to try some different volunteering.” She said it almost as a question, as though she might be disloyal.
She looked like a little girl who has been down in the claustrophobic cabin of the boat, itching to get her hands on the wheel and steer somewhere exciting.
“You should. Go for it, you don’t have to cling to this. Go out and find a fledgling volunteer group and do amazing things.”
She gave me a hug. “Thank you. And thank you for understanding.” As she popped a chocolate in her mouth she asked, “you do feel it, don’t you? It’s not the same, right? I’m not crazy.”
“No, you are most certainly not crazy. I feel it. But things never remain the same. And neither do we. So, grow, my friend and don’t look back.”
With that she walked out. I’m certain she will find another spot to volunteer. Whether she can recapture the excitement of newness and innovation remains to be seen.
So, until I hear from her, I will just picture her, spray in face, hands on the wheel, steering for the horizon and whatever new territory lies out there.
-Meridian
Jack is a part-time manager of volunteers at a large animal rescue shelter. His Volunteers do everything from checking animals in to cleaning habitats, interviewing perspective adoptive owners, marketing and raising funds. Besides his volunteer manager duties, Jack is also entrusted with managing the shelter, which is oftentimes a seven-day work week. Jack recalled a day not that long ago that resonated with him. He remembered, “It was a day when major donors were going to be touring the facility. Our parent organization was also sending senior management to have a catered lunch with the donors in our conference room. Volunteers were expected to act as hostesses for the event, and I admit, that pretty much made me mad, but I asked two volunteers, Jeri and Liz, who I really get along with to come, and they decided to bail me out for the day and help.
On looking back at that day, I gotta tell you, I was anxious. I knew that I was a hard worker, a guy who took time with each and every volunteer, so that they could be an extension of me and my drive for a great shelter. I knew that I had brains and talent and was resourceful. I knew I had a head full of knowledge and could wow anyone who came into the shelter with my handle on everything.” Jack stopped there for a moment. “I knew and the volunteers knew that I had the shelter moving along like a well oiled machine. So why was I anxious?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I wanted to show the higher-ups what a great manager I was, and on some level, I wanted them to be wowed and to immediately ask me to move up into senior management. I mean, clearly, a guy like me….” Jack laughed. “A guy like me doesn’t happen every day, at least that’s what I wanted them to see.
But,” he continued, “that day came, and there was a problem with the heating unit and I had to spend my time with repairmen. The senior managers never saw me, not once. Luckily, Jeri and Liz were there. They kept everything on schedule.” Jack sighed. “I was mad, mad at the universe, mad at management and the volunteers, and mad at myself. I seethed for a while in the back room, when Liz stepped in to see if I was okay. I think she saw the frustration I was feeling so she left and came back a few minutes later with a woman about 50ish. The woman had stopped in to make a donation to our shelter. She told me that a few years back, she had adopted a small older terrier named Betsy. I remembered Betsy. Betsy had been rescued from an abandoned house. She was literally found cowering in an empty closet. When we brought Betsy in, she had been so shy, almost withdrawn and we thought that she might not ever get a real home, but the volunteers worked with her until she was adoptable. The woman told me that Betsy lived with her and her mother, but her mother had died last month after a long battle with cancer. She told me that her mother and Betsy adored one another and that she gave her mother a reason to live. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she would always take care of Betsy and she thanked us for rescuing her.” Jack drew a breath. “I had an epiphany right then and there, and realized that I was in this job for the Betsy stories, not for promotions and praise and raises and titles. I had exactly what I wanted. That faulty heater did me a favor. It kept me from trying to be someone I’m not.”
Jack lives in an inside out world, just like every other volunteer manager. I think that deep in our hearts, we are searching for those moments that mean everything to the people we help. The outside world may try to tell us that we need to move up, that in order to succeed we need to have a mouthful of words in our titles. While the outside world might tell us that respect comes with a large office, our inside hearts remind us that self-respect comes from the stories about Betsy, or from volunteers who are inspired by our mentoring, or from clients who make it through their crisis with a volunteer we carefully chose for them.
In the scheme of things, there are those who get to do the work and those who don’t. There’s the medical personnel who save lives and the administrator who makes more money and has a title. There’s the teacher who shapes minds, and there’s the head of the board of administration who makes policy. There’s the volunteer manager who orchestrates pure altruism and the senior manager who sits in meetings all day.
We may not have the largest office or even a quiet one and we may not have the highest salary or even a salary to be proud of, but there is one thing we do have. You know what it is. You feel it inside everyday.
-Meridian
We’re so used to the computer prompt when we see it: You are being redirected to another site. “Fine,” we think and we simply ease into the new locale. But did you ever think about why and how we are being redirected? Neither do I, but I think there’s probably a back story there.
Mary is a relatively new volunteer. She came to orientation like a firecracker tossed into a library. Mary introduced herself to everyone in the room before I could slip in my cute little icebreaker. During breaks, the class was talking up a storm. Usually it takes a session or two for that kind of comfort, but with Mary present, we cut to familiarity. She answered questions with stories, asked other participants to add more and before orientation was over, she had everyone’s number. Literally, she had all their phone numbers.
Mary wanted to work with patients and families and so we paired her with a seasoned volunteer, Joyce in a hospice house. “Well, she is chatty,” Joyce reported back. “She really got to know a lot about me.”
“But how did she do with the patients and families?”
“Fine,” Joyce said. “She asked a lot of questions. She seems genuinely interested in the patients’ lives.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s how I viewed Mary as well.’ Her chattiness is unique. She doesn’t chat about herself so much as she chats about your life as she gets to know you. It’s like having a great-grandmother who grills you each time you visit. It’s both soothing and nerve-wracking at the same time. I sensed that Joyce was holding back, so I asked her if she thought Mary had the potential to be a good volunteer.
“Yes,” she slowly said. “The thing is, she might just talk too much when a family just needs peace and quiet. I’m not sure she can be silent.”
“So, you think we shouldn’t put her with patients?”
“No, I don’t think that. It’s hard to say. I think we should give her a chance.”
Now, most of the time, folks like Mary settle down into volunteering and do a great job. As they learn from other volunteers, they adjust and adapt and it is thrilling to hear them say things like, “I’ve learned so much,” and “I’m getting the hang of it.”
But, although Mary genuinely cared for each patient and family she encountered and asked appropriate questions, her chattiness continued.
One day, a staff member tentatively approached me and apologized for bringing this up, but, it seems that Mary was in the room with a patient and family, over stayed her visit and pretty much chatted with them when all they wanted was to sit and be still. So we called Mary in and talked to her about her experience.
“What a beautiful family,” Mary said. “I learned how each member of this family traveled over distances to get here to be with their father.”
“That’s a lot of information you gathered,” I said.
“Oh, they were so wonderful to talk to. I loved it.”
We talked more and I finally said, “Mary, you also need to know when to exit. Families can be weary and although they love how you listen, they also need us to leave them alone too. Do you sense that?”
“I do,” she admitted. “I don’t want to cause them any more pain.”
So, she promised to watch out for over staying her welcome in patients’ rooms.
The next week the charge nurse came to see me. “We’ve got to do something about Mary.” she said.
“Uh oh, what happened?”
“Well, one of my nurses observed Mary talking to a family member at the coffee station. The nurse had to rescue the family member from Mary so he could go see his uncle.” The charge nurse then said, “You know, this is not the place for her.”
Well, I had to admit, after further talking with staff, the charge nurse was right. Mary’s exuberant chattiness was not suited for the quieter nature of a hospice house. What to do with her?
An answer came quite unexpectedly. One of the bereavement counselors happened to stop by and we talked for a bit. He mentioned that he had a lady client who needed a special volunteer to be her bereavement friend. “She is so lonely, she really needs someone to pay attention to her and well, just socialize.”
I jumped at the chance to place Mary and so I called her up and asked to meet with her. She timidly came in and asked if I was going to fire her. “No,” I said, “Why would you think that?” (I love that question, because clearly if a volunteer asks that, they have an inkling that something is amiss)
“I talk too much,” she said. “I can’t help it and I know the nurses are mad at me.”
“They’re not mad, Mary. They just want what’s best for our families.”
“I know. I try to be quieter, but it’s hard.” She made a face like a little girl and for an instant, I could picture her in the principal’s office, being scolded once again.
“We all have gifts, Mary and yours is your love of life.”
“So, I don’t belong here, then.” She was resigned. I suspected that she knew we were in salvage mode.
“No, but I would like you to consider a different role. One, in which you can be more yourself.”
I told her about the bereavement assignment and let her know that it was equally as important. We chatted for quite some time and I assured her that we were going to work with her and that we wanted her to volunteer.
We’ve been three weeks into Mary’s new role and she is doing well. We are getting positive feedback from our client and that is good. But I’m optimistically cautious. We’ll take it slowly and I think with more time and mentoring, Mary will make a good volunteer.
If not, we can try another redirect.
-Meridian
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