Yes, I can blame getting older or I can blame having too much in my head or I can blame Earth’s shifting magnetic poles. But it doesn’t matter because I have to face the reality. I can’t remember every name, every conversation and frankly, every thing I was supposed to check up on. Gobs of information filter in and then just fall out. Sometimes I feel like an old junk wagon rolling down the road, stuff flying off the top and into the street because it was never properly tied down.
That’s the nature of volunteer management to me. We are like trucks and we have so much piled in the beds that no matter how we rearrange and organize, we can’t ever quite get it all sorted out unless we stay in our garages. I know when I leave my desk, I have people stop me everywhere to ask a question, tell me an important tidbit, invite me to a meeting, request a favor, pass on a message and so on. When you forget why you left your desk two minutes after leaving it, that’s volunteer management.
But stubborn pride tells me on many occasion not to let on that I did not remember the fact that you asked me to check on your name badge yesterday or that you introduced me to your grandchild last year when she was visiting. “My, how she’s grown!” And changed a whole bunch, I might add.
So, here’s a conversation I had recently with a volunteer I haven’t seen for two years.
“Hi Rita, er, Freda! So nice to see you again! We missed you. Welcome back, its been what, four, no two, yes, right, two years already. My it seems longer! How’s your son, George, oh…, right, Craig and his family? Really, that’s great! And your granddaughter… no grandson, is he good? Doing well in school… no right he’s only three, wow, sure, and your husband Sidney? Oh, Rod, right, how’s Rod? Excellent. Are you feeling better… no wait, no you were not sick, right, you moved, yes, I remember now, was it cold in Canada …no, right, Bermuda. Not cold there, huh, ha ha! Well, we have your job visiting nursing home patients… what’s that, no you never did that right! But you wanted to… no, you wanted to do office work. Well we have many jobs here for you and would love for you to come back. Are you still living on the river…or, yes, the golf course, right, it’s River Crest, no, right Spruce View, nice place, I’ve always loved their clubhouse, they have the restaurant where you cook your own steaks, no, no it’s a breakfast place, right, love it. Well, miss you, you’ve always been a great volunteer and would love you back!”
Yes, I can’t admit I don’t remember. I do, however remember running into a volunteer one time in the hall when I ventured from my desk and she asked me, “So, did you find anything out regarding our conversation last week?”
I remember staring at her as if she had landed from Neptune. My brain froze. I thought, did we have a conversation about something? Was I in it? I know that I know you because your face is very familiar, but if my life hung in the balance, I have NO idea what we talked about. So pride of course stepped in and I hedged. “Well, now, I’m glad you brought that up, I was just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I thought about it a lot and was wondering if you thought more about it too. Uh huh, yes, well, since we’ve both been thinking about it, tell me your thoughts on it now.”
Ok, I got really lucky and her response jogged my memory, or should I say reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out the item underneath the pile. Of course I hadn’t done anything about what we had talked about in the hallway last week. I had forgotten 30 minutes later.
I can carry a notepad or a smart phone and most of the time I write on my hand. I have post its on my desk, two calendars, and multiple pads and binders of projects in varying stages of design.
I think of the adage, if we could put a man on the moon…, but that’s not it. If we could design a truck with a huge, huge bed and all these little gnomes inside who would organize things as we drove down the road, then yes, I could get a handle on remembering things.
Until then, I’ll sneak a peek at your name tag or ask a co-worker to discreetly go up and ask who you are and report back, or cough as I say your name, or hide behind the laxatives at the drugstore to avoid the embarrassment of not knowing you.
Or maybe I’ll just have to admit I can’t remember. Nah.
-Meridian
Category: organizations
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Of Course I Remember You, Mr. Uh…
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We Should Have a Day of Our Own
I was just thinking that with all the upcoming holidays, you know, we volunteer managers should have a day of recognition. It could be called “National Volunteer Manager Day of Recognition”. Or maybe “Day of Multitasking with Unpaid Help While Being Grossly Underpaid” or perhaps “Thanks to Those Who Herd Cats Day.” But then a little tiny flash of remembering hit me. It was sort of a dull toothache kind of a brain pain. There already is a day for us. November 5th is “International Volunteer Manager Appreciation Day. IV Mad. IV MAD, really? Now why did I forget that, I wonder?
Was it in effect last year? Yep, according to the website, http://volunteermanagersday.org/, we had a day last year and the year before.So, why did I forget that? I mean I forget things like paying my bills or where I left my footed pajamas. I might have just banished it from my memory like the night that pimply Dave stood me up for the homecoming dance. Shudder, I can’t hear “Wooly Bully” without tearing up but that’s another conversation.
I decided to sit down and try to recall last year’s IVMAD. What I remember is something like this.
I got up that day and immediately started thinking about what to wear. I wondered, should I be understated so that I could act surprised when everyone came to thank me? I’d just look up from behind the pile on my overloaded desk and gush, “Oh my, I’m just doing my job, but thank you everyone so much you’re making me blush.” Or should I dress up, look my very best and be the consummate professional? Be all aloof and corporate and well, above lowly celebrations? How patrician. I decided to wear my best dress, the one that zips all the way up. Id have to skip lunch but it would be worth it. Maybe I’d put on some power high heels. I’d have to sit down for most of the day, because the last time I had to dress up, I fell while getting into the elevator and knocked over a cart full of files.
On the way to work, I practiced my responses to all the praise I was about to receive. I certainly wanted to be gracious, but amusing so that everyone would later talk about how clever I was. I decided on a simple “thank you, this is my dream job. And believe me, I dream about it every night.” Ha Ha, I was thrilled with my cleverness. I could almost hear them talking about me. “She looks so fresh for being as overworked as she is.” “She’s so clever and droll, I’m always uplifted when I see her.” “My, I wish I had her enthusiastic spirit and did you see those fabulous shoes?”
When I arrived, I discreetly backed my car up to the side door so that it would be convenient to haul out all the flowers and balloons after work. There would probably be left over cake too.
I walked in, confident that it would be a wonderful day. Even though there were no balloons with WE LOVE YOU and all the staff yelling “Surprise” to greet me, I did not despair. They were all probably still out picking up my gifts, trying to decide whether to get red or pink balloons. As I sat down and got to work, I knew that my organization and system would come through. Why wouldn’t they? I thought back over the year to all the recognition days we celebrated so that everyone had at least one day to feel appreciated.
We had an ice cream social for Administrative Professionals Day in April. I made sure I told one of the secretaries that I loved the artistic way she made spreadsheets.
We had a pot luck for Pride in Food Service Week in February. I brought some Dunkin Donuts.
For National Nurses Appreciation Week we had a big party complete with catered food. I wore white that day.
And during National Social Workers Month there were coffee and muffins every morning for a week. I tried to not act too crazy around the counselors.
I loved National Nursing Assistants Week in June because we ate all week and most of them are really nice.
I especially like Payroll Appreciation Week in September. You can’t be too nice to the payroll people.
There’s even crabby coworker day (Oct 27)which is so much fun until you come back from lunch and find some dead flowers on your desk. “Hey whoever put them there, I’m not crabby, I’m just stressed out!”
The day wore on, my feet hurt and I was tired of holding my stomach in. I watched the door for the balloons or cake or dancing clowns, but finally a co-worker came in and said,”hey, tell your volunteers thanks from me.”
Like I said, we should have a day of our own. Maybe it could be called, “Hey, for once, just throw me a bone day”
But, maybe this year will be different. I’m not going to dress up, but will practice a surprised look. Actually, good news, I won’t have to practice that!
Have a happy International Volunteer Manager Appreciation Day everyone!
-Meridian -
The Wound That Does Not Heal
My friend, Ellie is the sole volunteer coordinator at a large hospital complex. She oversees 500 giving souls who run the gift shop, man the information desks, fill ice water, organize fund-raising events, staff waiting rooms, help cashier at the coffee shop and other as sundry jobs. The hospital auxiliary is the governing body for the volunteers, so Ellie does have help in the form of a volunteer hierarchy. Because she is the only volunteer manager, Ellie has to rely on educating the various hospital departments’ staff on how to work with volunteers. It is exhausting and Ellie tells me that some departments are exemplary at treating volunteers, while others just don’t get it at all.
She said, “There’s medical records, who sadly use volunteers less and less because of electronic charting. But they still use them. The people in that department really like their volunteers. They know each of their volunteers’ birthdays, and when they are sick or have a family crisis. They treat them as people, not as pieces of equipment. They are a pleasure to work with and I find myself sending them the volunteer’s who are really great.”
But Ellie has other departments to deal with as well. I talked to her on Friday and she said, “yeah, it happened. One of our really good volunteers, Peg quit. Peg works, or rather worked in accounting. She has mad business skills and is funny and smart. She loves this hospital because we took care of her husband while he was going through chemo. She knows how precise our records need to be and just wanted to help where she could. And,” Ellie’s voice rose, “they keep talking about volunteers with professional experience, so Peg is perfect for them. Or was.”
Ellie paused. “About a year ago, several accounting managers retired and a whole new group were hired or promoted. They set a different tone, and the first time Peg came to me, I assured her that the new managers were just getting settled in. The second time Peg came, I paid them a courtesy visit. They all looked at me like I had two heads. This happened numerous times and because Peg had a long work history here, I knew it wasn’t her. It was them. They were unclear. They did not have the courtesy to call her if they did not have her work ready. They had their own territorial problems and tried to pull her into arguments.”
Ellie sighed. “I talked to that department oh, maybe five times in the past year. At first they seemed genuinely willing to try to do better. But then, each time I would go to see them, they grew more and more uninterested. And the trouble is, their manager is a senior manager in the system. I asked my boss about recourse, but he just told me to do the best I can. ”
I could hear Ellie tapping her pencil in the background. “Peg and I just talked. I offered, no pleaded with her to work in a different department like medical records where they would treat her good. She said no. She said she loved her job and it was just time to go. She said she knew that the people in her department wouldn’t change and she knew I did a great job trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed.
I stopped begging her. I could see the decision in her eyes. She was ok with quitting. Funny thing is, I’m not. I’m mad, really mad. How dare they treat her like that. Do you think they will ever, and I mean EVER get another volunteer? Not from me, not on my watch.” By this time Ellie was ranting the way she needed to. “Who do they think they are? Volunteers are not equipment you use and throw away! They’re people with skills and feelings and very few needs. Peg didn’t need anyone to fawn over her. She didn’t need tons of attention or praise. She just needed a decent working environment and some basic courtesy.”
Ellie drew a breath. “I know volunteers leave. They leave because they’re sick or they move or they change jobs or they retire or all kinds of things. But when they quit because of something that could have been fixed, I feel like we failed them. Our hospital failed them and I failed them because I could not fix it. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t quit because of something I did, it matters that she quit because of something I could not do.”
We talked some more and I pictured Ellie with a wound that would not heal, not properly anyway. I wondered how many wounds she had like that. I know I have several faded scars that have never completely healed on my volunteer manager body. They are mainly from the feelings of failure when a volunteer leaves or is mistreated and there was nothing more I could have done to prevent it.
I think we all have at least one or two.
-Meridian -
A Tale of Two Speeches
Last week I attended one day of a community forum hosted by a state organization that is a clearinghouse for non-profits. Featured were non-profit gurus with varying credentials and backgrounds, covering topics ranging from increasing donations to taking care of donors so that you will increase donations. (just kidding, there was a topic on staff burnout-presumably from trying to increase donations, I guess). I was able to attend two presentations; the first one by the vice president of marketing for a consulting firm. The topic was “Reaching Out Through Messaging”. The other presentation was by a volunteer, who had just won a state award for exceptional volunteerism. His topic was “Doing and Believing.”As I stepped over the crowd to find a seat in the first presentation, I knocked several handouts to the floor. The room was packed. Our speaker, dressed impeccably in pinstripes, told us of the power of messaging, especially when knocking on the doors of potential donors. On screen, he showed examples of pictures that tell compelling stories about the good work our organizations are doing. Slide after slide showed grinning people with perfect teeth helping people who looked just enough down on their luck. Not dirty or disgusting, the pictured recipients had appropriate gratitude angled just right for the camera. All in all, I got the messages from the pictures. Donating money=nice scenes like this going on. Evidently, these pictures work, because he gave some pretty impressive statistics. Within a moment, the subconscious mind of the donor is invaded with good feelings. Nicely done, I thought. He did say that messaging would apply to recruiting volunteers as well. Paint the picture, tell the story. He showed one picture of volunteers. They were gathered together, arms around one another, smiling for the camera. They looked pretty happy. They weren’t sweating, so I’m guessing this was a before and not an after picture. I did notice they all had perfect teeth. Hmmm, maybe they all went to the same dentist.
I pretty much could sit anywhere I wanted to in the next presentation. I guess most of the attendees elected to go to the concurrent session, “Bridging the Donor Gap”. I looked around at my fellow seat mates and nodded. You can pick out the volunteer managers at symposium. We all pretty much get out our steno pads and wait expectantly.
The award-winning volunteer, Gabe, walked up to the front of the room and turned to look at us. He was tall, with raven hair and craggy features. His smile was impish, as if he had just sneaked into his father’s cocktail party. He thanked us for coming and then proceeded to tell us his story. A youth minister, Gabe began his ministry ten years ago. He had watched with concern the growing number of homeless folks in his area and so he began to collect basic essentials to give out, first on a monthly basis, then every week. This ministry, with the help of the youth of his church, added a soup kitchen, and a counseling service. He, and several youth members volunteered at a local thrift store in exchange for the unsellable items such as socks and kitchen utensils. He then grew quiet as he told us about one of his most memorable clients, “Ruth,” a homeless woman who had lost her job and with a ten-year old son, Jason, in tow, arrived at the church doorstep. Ruth had dropped out of high school when she was sixteen and pregnant and now, at 27, she found herself without a safety net after her mother died. Gabe walked quietly back and forth in front of us, running his fingers through his hair as he told us that shy little Justin loved Batman. His Batman sneakers were well-worn and the only sneakers the youth group had to replace them were plain. Gabe paused and told us what happened next. The youth group started texting all their friends, asking for a pair of boys Batman sneakers in size 7. By the time Gabe arrived at his church the next morning, not only were there three pairs of Batman sneakers arriving at church, but friends of friends brought Batman shirts and toys along with packs of new socks, food, underwear, dresses, diapers, jeans, and more. On those donations alone, his group was able to feed and clothe 5 homeless families. Gabe looked us in the eyes. “Believe,” he said. “Believe that you can do good work and you will.”
When Gabe finished, we all stood up and applauded. He smiled reluctantly. I didn’t check to see if he had perfect teeth. I was too busy being mesmerized by his message.
-Meridian -
Roadblocks
Jeff is a part-time volunteer manager at a small community hospital. He is responsible for staff education, special projects and the 50 auxiliary volunteers. An educator by trade, he is new to volunteer management, but embraces the idea that volunteers add real value to his organization. He has an auxiliary president and vice president who recruit, interview and train the new volunteers. The hospital volunteers run the gift shop, do office work and are expected to staff the reception desk seven days a week. Lately, though, the receptionist volunteers have been telling the auxiliary president that they cannot effectively do their job because the desktop computer doesn’t work properly.
A rather ancient piece of equipment, the computer is necessary for finding a patient’s location. The computer acts up by losing connections and then it takes a few minutes to reboot. The volunteers resort to calling hospital staff for room numbers, which is beginning to be a problem for irritated employees who are impatient with the volunteers. Jeff, thinking that it would be an easy fix, put in a work request to repair or replace the desktop. When he did not receive a timely reply and after more volunteers complained, he called the maintenance department who told him the request was being reviewed. Puzzled, Jeff called his superior who said that all capital expenses or major repairs had to be reviewed by a committee. When pressed on how long the process would take, the superior curtly said that he did not know, but would inform Jeff when he had an answer. After three weeks of growing impatience and endless excuses, the volunteers started to doubt that Jeff had actually requested help. They began to complain loudly and some threatened to quit. Jeff called his supervisor again and brusquely asked about the status of his request. “Come on,” he said, “I’ve got people wanting to quit. I need some movement on this.” After another week, the fed up volunteers started to miss their shifts, leaving Jeff to frantically call the auxiliary president to find replacements. The empty reception desk was noticed, but instead of acknowledging Jeff’s predicament, the senior management complained down through the channels that Jeff was not doing his job staffing the front desk. Jeff blew his stack. “This is ridiculous,” Jeff fumed. “If they expect a volunteer to do a job for free, the least they can do is provide them the tools necessary to do that job. Instead, this organization drags its financial heels, thinking that it doesn’t matter. Well it does. Paid staff can’t and won’t just quit, but volunteers can and will.” Jeff continued, “and then, they have the nerve to complain when volunteers quit, as if they have no culpability in this. It’s maddening how they dismiss the basic tools volunteers need, but are vocal when their roadblocks cause us to lose volunteers. It’s as if they think that volunteers will do anything asked of them, no matter how they are treated or no matter how tough they make it for the volunteers to successfully do their job. It’s ludicrous!”Jeff is spending a great deal of time soothing the disillusioned volunteers who rightfully feel that they are not worth the price of a new computer. Jeff is not giving up, even though some really good long-term volunteers are choosing to stay home. He’s not used to using the nails on a blackboard voice, but to him, it has become about what is right. Hopefully his administration will do the right thing. Hopefully they will realize the difference between staff who must deal with inconveniences and volunteers, who can choose to leave if conditions are unacceptable.
But if administration won’t, then when the next volunteer leaves, each manager should be made to figure out how to replace that volunteer and each manager should have to say to the new volunteer, “You know we really don’t think you are worth proper equipment. But keep coming in and working for free anyway and stop complaining.”
Because essentially, that’s what Jeff has to do.
-Meridian -
The Mulligan Volunteer
If a Mulligan is a “freebie”, then Phil is my Mulligan volunteer. All right, I actually have more than one, so don’t tell anyone. I keep Phil on the active volunteer list even though he hasn’t done any volunteering for ten years. Yeah, he’s active only in my mind. Why do I hold on to him?
Well, let me tell you about Phil. I have known Phil now for oh, about 17 years. He came to volunteer when I was just an idealistic blob of volunteer coordinator tissue to be molded by good old-fashioned experience and opinionated volunteers. I was hopeful, scared and curious all at the same time. But I digress.
When I first met Phil, he was an old pro at volunteering. A retired executive, Phil had smarts, energy and that electric smile. I leaned on Phil a bunch. He took difficult cases. He made me laugh and learn. He once drove 30 miles to bail me out on an assignment. I never, once, heard a negative breath come out of that man. Inspirational? I’ll put him up against Gandhi in the Inspiration Olympics. Caring? Let him get in the Care ring with Mother Teresa, cause she better look out for his right hook. Willing? Well, you get the idea.
Phil has been getting older. He’s had to pare down his volunteering activities to about seven. No kidding, that’s how much he does. And, as he weighs what he can do, it all boils down to convenience. At his age, that’s a huge consideration. So, the fact that he can’t really help us out anymore is no reflection on our mission or treatment of him. This, I understand.
But let me tell you the real reason I keep him on the active list. Phil takes in homeless people. Yep, takes him into his home to live. Homeless vets, homeless families, he quietly takes them in to let them get back on their feet. His friends (and even some of our volunteers) have warned him that he could be inviting trouble, but Phil just shrugs. “Someone has to help.”
How do you measure a man like that? I’m always astounded at how Phil lives his life. He’s not going to be featured on any news show. He wouldn’t want it anyway. He’s not going to be elected Mayor of his town. He’d hate that. He lives his life by serving. I was just lucky to have him cross my path for a while. He’ll always be “active” to me.
I think we all need our Mulligan volunteers. In my organization, we have emeritus volunteers. These are volunteers who can’t help anymore, but they are invited to every function we have. They’ve earned it. Phil earned it the first week he volunteered. I think of so many of them, who give their all and when they can’t anymore, have to bow out. For the sake of my own soul, I cannot let them fade away. They love to teach others, speak to orientations, mentor newbies, write policy and mainly just chat. Although the chatting part takes a lot of precious time, after a conversation with one of them, I always end up feeling like I’m home. And because I’ve been doing this so long, I fear that no one else will remember. I sense these valuable volunteers slipping away like forgotten stories never written down.
I think of all the phone calls I need to make and it’s overwhelming. But I have to find the time and energy. If Phil can open his home to homeless strangers, I can certainly open my heart to emeritus volunteers. They are a as much a part of volunteering as the fresh face. I can’t let them feel anything but honored and never forgotten.
And though I won’t get any productivity out of the time spent reconnecting with emeritus volunteers, I know it is the right thing to do. And how much of our jobs is about doing the right thing?
I think I’ll start with Phil.
-Meridian -
Bumping Into Carmen
The other day I literally bumped into Carmen who has not been volunteering for over a year. I came around the corner at the grocery store and boom, there she was, picking out paper towels. Occasionally I run into former volunteers; those who left because they became ill, those who stopped because life changed, or those who just don’t volunteer anymore. Then there are the ones who left for another reason; mainly we asked them to leave because they did something egregious, like breaking rules, stepping over hard fast boundaries, meddling in financial affairs, yelling at a patient’s family or lying to us about a former run-in with the law. Sadly, there are some folks who just aren’t meant to be a volunteer, at least, not until they figure some things out.
You know how this goes. You’re out in public minding your own business and you suddenly catch a volunteer you don’t want to see (mainly because you don’t want to explain again how sorry you are things didn’t work out) walking amongst the artichokes and you panic and sprint the other way, pretending you see a friend in the distance? That’s how work catches up with you on a Saturday.
Well, Carmen is none of these volunteers. You see, my organization did Carmen wrong and it still pains me to this day. When I bumped into her, I grabbed her with a big smile and we hugged and I told her how much I miss her and how sorry (again) I was. She grinned at me, still a bit wounded and patted my cheek. “It’s ok,” she said, although to me it is not.
Let me tell you a bit about Carmen.
She came over from Cuba during the revolution and made her home in America with her husband, Jose. They are the type of couple who share their “love story” with anyone who cares to hear. He rescued her and brought her family over. She presided over a brood of six children, all now successful adults. Carmen makes mad coconut flan. Jose plays the guitar. They are infectious in a good way. But more than that, Carmen has a rare gift. She looks into your soul when she speaks to you. She tells you she loves you and she means it. You can feel her heart if you get within 20 feet of her. She is a petite woman with a giant presence. Patients loved her.
So, what happened, you ask. Carmen, an artist, wanted to give our organization a painting to put over a bare wall in the lobby. One of our managers told her to “paint whatever you want, I’m sure it will be beautiful.”
So, Carmen painted a lovely abstract depicting a family gathered around a bedside. It had bright colors, and gentle tones. It was a modern take on old fashioned love. It was Carmen.
She brought it in one day when I was not there, not that I could have prevented the hurt that followed, but I like to think I might have made it better somehow. It’s a control thing, I know. Another manager saw Carmen’s painting and deemed it “inappropriate” and told Carmen that we could not possibly hang it in our lobby. I do not think the manager was cold or dismissive, but Carmen was hurt. She took it well, I’m told but went home, talked it over with Jose and called to quit.
Now here’s the problem as I see it. We gave her permission to paint whatever she wanted. In good faith, she accepted the free hand she was given. We set her up, not maliciously, but irresponsibly and for a sensitive soul like Carmen, the rebuff was hurtful.
She tells me that she will be back one day and I believe her. After all, how can you stay away from something you are so incredibly good at? When she does return, everyone will be glad to see her and it will be business as usual.
But, right now, with Carmen gone, I think about all the patients who are not being helped by her. All over a flippant directive and a thoughtless reaction.
I wish I could paint. I’d paint Carmen back into our picture.
-Meridian -
If You Can’t Thank Me, Don’t Insult Me Too
Yvette manages volunteers for a specialty hospital in a city with two other competing hospitals. Therefore, her marketing department utilizes volunteers as props, marketing tools and for as many events as Yvette can round them up for. Marketing looks to Yvette’s volunteers for continuous help in drumming up community interest and business.
Recently, one annual major event was under the direction of a new fresh face in the marketing department. She had many novel ideas and requested twice the number of volunteers from years past. Yvette obliged, working longer hours to get the extra volunteers in to help on the day of this signature festival.
Everything went relatively smoothly. Yvette was there that day, making sure the volunteers had someone to do all the “grunt work” so that they could excel.The next day, Yvette called every one of the volunteers who came out, thanking them personally for their participation and asking for any feedback that might help for the next time. Volunteers were happy to give input and Yvette was proud of their team spirit and constructive ideas, which she turned over to that new fresh face.
Several weeks passed. A hospital executive stopped by one morning and pointedly asked Yvette if the young marketing staff member had had a wrap up meeting for the volunteers. Yvette said no and tried to point out that she had already contacted everyone, but the aggravated executive reminded her that in years past, there was always a follow up meeting for volunteers. Angrily, the executive let his guard down and complained about the multiple shortcomings of this new marketing person. Yvette listened politely, feeling uncomfortable the entire time.
Yvette did not think much about that conversation until another two weeks had passed and she picked up the phone. Her volunteer, Joy called to inquire about an organiztional thank you note with a five dollar Walmart card attached. “Who’s idea was that?” Joy complained. “What are they thinking? What am I going to do with five dollars?” Before Yvette could digest what was being said, Joy continued. “Its an insult. I didn’t volunteer for five dollars. Is that what my time is worth? Id rather they did nothing than do this.”
Yvette received multiple calls voicing the same sentiment. “What does management think our time is worth?” was the most voiced complaint. Yvette deftly fielded the calls, soothed nerves and assured everyone that the gift card was not meant to be an insult.
Yvette spent many an hour doing damage control. She told her supervisor about the situation and her supervisor shrugged and said, “yes, they do stupid things,” so Yvette was pretty much on her own. She knew her supervisor would not “make waves” with a favored department. Once again, the care and feeding of the volunteers was left solely to her.What exactly, is a volunteer’s time worth? Five dollars, ten dollars, a luncheon, a gift card to Walmart, an occasional nomination? What do volunteers really want as appreciation? A pat on the head, a hastily scribbled speech, a once a year dinner?
Do volunteers notice they are not part of strategic planning for the very organization they work tirelessly for? Does each hollow afterthought combine to make this perception worse? Do they truly “know their place?”
In the fantasy world, when the cultivating of volunteers becomes everyone’s job, then a five dollar gift certificate would not be salt on an already gaping wound. Do you want to know the one sentence that Yvette heard from all the volunteers she spoke to?
“I know YOU appreciate me, dear.”
-Meridian -
Excalibur, the Makin It Look Easy Sword
Those words, “make it look easy.” Are they a compliment, or a curse? In the dictionary of English phrases, is there a picture of a volunteer manager next to the phrase, ” but you make it look easy”? How do you respond to that-a smile, a shrug, a muttered, “gee that’s what I’ve always wanted to hear?” Is making it look easy a lethal double-edged sword? How do you wield such a mighty weapon?
Rhonda is a volunteer coordinator whose organization went through some major revamping and as they looked for ways to cut costs, they called in a professional consultant. This consultant combed through the status quo, looking at each aspect of the organization’s ability to do more with less. When the consultant, Eric, spent a four hour stint with Rhonda, he shook his head. “I can’t believe you do all this in these conditions,” he said. “you really make it look easy from the notes I’ve been given.”
His notes consisted of statistics about the volunteer department. Rhonda supervizes 118 volunteers, who pretty much run a thrift store six days a week. The volunteers also sit at fairs, stuff envelopes, fill in for a lunching receptionist, file reports and make calls. Rhonda’s phone rings non-stop. Volunteers filter in and out of her office and she pretty much oversees them all. Rhonda sometimes fills in for volunteers when they call out sick. She is swamped. After four hours, Eric told her that she was one of the busiest staff members in her organization. “But,” he mused, “no one knows how hard you work.”
Rhonda did not know how to respond. Frankly, she was too overwhelmed to spend much time thinking about how to use her double edged sword.Although Rhonda would like more help, she struggles with how to present her challenges. “Do I talk about the difficulties? Will I harm the image of the volunteers if I honestly speak about those that are a challenge? If I complain, will they just do away with volunteers all together? Do I just burn myself out and let the next volunteer coordinator figure it out?”
As volunteer managers work hard behind the scenes and let the praise go to the volunteers, do we not cut ourselves on the back swing with our mighty sword? By making it look so easy, what are we doing to our profession? Are we contributing to the perception that managing volunteers is no more than hosting tea parties and chatting with willing participants?
Rhonda is too tired to do much about her situation. I suspect she is not alone. Hard, hard work can lead to exhaustion and eventually burn-out. Our jobs are rewarding, complex and difficult. We should not be afraid to admit this.
Otherwise, our arms will be too tired to lift that hulking double edged sword.
-Meridian -
Am I Nuts, Cause I’ll Put Up With Anything
Melissa is a volunteer coordinator at a large hospital where she manages a great number of volunteers. She is responsible for filling many positions, including the receptionist volunteers who greet family members in a trauma waiting area. It is an important volunteer assignment and she is required to keep the shifts filled. She has this volunteer, Irma, who has been coming in for one shift the past 5 years. Irma is prompt, reliable, a stalwart. The day after Irma’s shift however, Irma calls Melissa to complain about the lack of brochures, the semi-clean bathrooms, the lazy security guard, the tired reception room furniture, the poor advertizing, the rude staff, the incompetent management and the uncomfortable chair. Irma chews Melissa’s ear for twenty minutes with a list of things that need to be fixed and finishes off by threatening to quit.
Melissa listens patiently and then does her best to not only fix every little thing, but she also fawns over Irma. Is Melissa nuts?Joan has a hospice volunteer, Sig, who, she calls upon occasionally. Sig gives Joan a hard time when she calls him. She steels herself for the excuses, the sighs, the checking schedules four and five times, the twenty questions and the coaxing. Sometimes Sig refuses and sometimes he accepts. Joan thanks him profusely, and calls him the day after his assignment and listens again while he comes up with the reasons he shouldn’t have gone. Joan empathizes, comforts and promises him that the next time will be better. Is Joan insane?
Mark is a volunteer coordinator for an organization that serves at risk youth. His volunteers make home visits to assess the program’s progress. He has this one volunteer, Henrietta, who is a drama sponge. She sits in Mark’s office for an hour, watching him scramble to get jobs done, peppering her latest life crisis between his phone calls and paperwork. Mark listens patiently, assuring Henrietta that she’s “not bothering” him. He listens intently, concentrating on her needs while she’s there, empathizing with her chaotic life. Later, he may have to stay an extra half hour to catch up. Is Mark crazy?
We all have these kinds of volunteers. Are Melissa, Joan and Mark super-dedicated or are they just plain dumb? Why would they encourage these behaviors? Well, here are the reasons.
Irma works on Sunday.
Sig will go out in the evening.
Henrietta goes into a neighborhood that no one else will go into.It’s ironic how our behavior changes, and needs to change with each and every volunteer and each and every assignment. We all have experienced the volunteer request that is nearly impossible to fill and when we do fill it, we’ll cling to that volunteer like a falling animal to a branch. Suddenly, behavior that we might not tolerate in others becomes, well, not so bad. And when that volunteer becomes ill or has to take some time off, we feel, (if we are completely honest) much more devastated for ourselves because we know how hard it will be to replace them.
Volunteer managers are by nature very mutable. It is our job to keep positions filled, to keep volunteers happy and retained, to put the right person in the right job. Sometimes, there is only one person for a job and when that occurs, our survival instincts kick in.
So, the next time you have this nagging little voice asking you why you put up with certain behaviors from certain volunteers, just think of your fingers starting to ache as you cling to that branch hundreds of feet above the canyon of NO VOLUNTEER REPLACEMENT. Then, ignore that voice and Hang On!
-Meridian
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