volunteerplaintalk

Category: resale shops

  • When Our Own Heart is Breaking

    cherry blossoms
    As I am writing this, my son and his family are moving more than a thousand miles away for new jobs and my heart feels like a vessel of dust.
    You see, volunteer managers take good care of clients and volunteers but occasionally we, too, endure heartbreak. Loved ones dying, divorce, pets put to sleep, infidelities, family members in trouble, fires and floods all befall us as well. So how do we continue to do our jobs when our souls feel like they’ll break if we even try to get out of bed?

    I remember when my father died many years ago, I was managing an all volunteer run resale shop. I really had no backup emergency staff and so I returned to work after one day off. My family told me that I was crazy for going back so quickly, but I did it more out of rote than anything else. Through the haze of shock and grief, my feet pulled the rest of me to work. See, my Father lived with me the last years of his life at a time when my husband and I had three teens in the house, their friends occasionally crashing with us, several animals, and demanding jobs. But I had made a promise to myself years ago and come hell or generational clashing, I was going to keep that promise.
    My Dad grew up an orphan, back when orphans were disposable goods. He went from farm to farm where he worked in exchange for a roof (usually in the attic where the only heat rose off the main floor) and food and the promise to send him to school. (He made it through grade six). And because my Father was a wonderful father, I promised myself he would not spend the last years of his life the way he spent the first.
    So, when the time came, we moved him into our home. He had dementia, a thing so potent that I first recognized its insidious burrowing when I got a call from him that he had lost his car in a parking lot. The dementia grew bigger, my kids and their friends got used to “Grandpa” and we managed, although my daughter, new to the teenage role, was thoroughly embarrassed at outings.
    Yeah, I got kicked out of a mall because my Dad refused to put out a cigarette and almost came to blows with the security guard. I had to go back and return the items he “lifted” from stores when I wasn’t looking, had to keep the kid lock on the windows because he would throw his half drunk milkshake out for fun and had to stand between him and the teenaged friends of my sons that came over because he was after all, back in the days when he scrapped with the neighborhood kids in Chicago.

    But I digress. I think I returned to work because I needed the arms around me of those volunteers I had come to love. After all, they understood. They took one look at me and knew and they wrapped my pain soaked body in their soft dry towel.
    There is the Carl Jung term, “wounded healer.” Simplistically, it refers to people who choose to help others because they, themselves are wounded by life’s events.
    I don’t think that term necessarily applies to volunteer managers. I think volunteer managers are like the cherry blossoms of spring. Let me explain if I can. I think we come into our jobs, maybe thinking that we will get to direct some really nice people and then we start to see the complexities of our jobs and that forces us to open ourselves up, more and more and more to the arching vast sweep of humanity. We open like a blossom to the human experience and we become unafraid to feel what we must feel, because we’ve been through it so many times with our volunteers. We feel with them and we feel for them and when our time comes to feel, we walk into that burning fire resolute, but prepared. And when a steady hand reaches out to calm our shaking, we grasp it firmly, and feel the gratitude.
    Does this knowledge make my heart hurt less? No, but I choose to remain open, because if I close, I close myself in with my pain and I’d rather open to loving arms that see me through.

    Walking along the edge of a sword,
    Running along an ice ridge,
    No steps, no ladders,
    Jumping from the cliff with open hands.’
    ~Zen verse

    Take good care of yourselves. A part of our lives is the knowledge that things will happen to us too. You’re part of humanity, vulnerable to suffering, but remember, there are people out there who care about you.
    -Meridian

  • Bursting the Idealistic Bubble

    bubbleburstWhile eating breakfast at our favorite hole in the wall diner, my husband pushed aside his plate of pancakes. “They’re a bit doughy this time,” he said and covered the plate with his paper napkin just as the server walked by. “Finished already?” Her question was a polite accusation, yet she removed the plate at my husband’s nod. That got me thinking aloud. “Does the cook feel badly when food comes back uneaten?”
    “No,” my husband quickly offered, “it’s a job.” But then he thought about it. “Well, maybe so.”

    It reminded me of volunteer manager Brett, who oversees the volunteers that cook meals for patients at a hospice care center. “One of the biggest challenges I have is to handle the volunteers’ disappointment when patients don’t eat the meals prepared for them. The volunteers put their heart into making the meals look and smell appealing from making sure the plate is cleaned of any spillage to the garnish that enhances the look.” Brett continued, “I mean, when a new volunteer starts, I have to really remind them that patients may be too sick to eat. They may order food with every intention of eating it, but their appetites often are just not there anymore and they don’t even try a bite. That is very disappointing to the volunteers who send out food thinking that the patient will enjoy the meal they just prepared with care.”
    “What do you do to quell that disappointment?” I asked.
    “Number one, I’m available. I’m there to gauge the volunteers’ reactions to things, like if they get quiet because they think they were reprimanded by a patient’s family or staff member, or if they seem down because no one is eating or if they act discouraged because no one seems to show any appreciation.”

    Brett is a savvy volunteer manager. He knows the impact and benefits his volunteers bring, but he also realizes that the volunteers don’t necessarily receive continuous positive feedback. And if they do not, then disappointments may just color the way they view their volunteering.
    I remember a volunteer, Jess, who was upset because the client she was working with said to her, “I don’t like you.” She had put her heart and soul into trying to “reach” this gentleman and when he refused to be “reached,” she was devastated. “What did I do?” she asked. “What could I have done differently?” And her very telling question was, “why doesn’t he like me?” At that point, placating her with flippant statements like “well, it’s just him, not you,” would serve no useful purpose. This is where some real volunteer management is necessary. We have to ask, “what are Jess’ expectations of volunteering? What are her methods of working with clients? Did we give her the wrong client, not only for her, but for him as well?”

    When working with volunteers, I was always adamant about telling them that a rebuff or client anger was rarely directed at them personally. The fact that someone didn’t eat a volunteer prepared dinner had almost nothing to do with the meal, but everything to do with the patient’s ability to eat.
    Brett says, “I tell the volunteers that the patient’s family is hyper aware of the meals that are made, that the family is touched by the extra care put into those meals. I tell stories about how a family member will get so excited because their dying loved one tried some creamy mashed potatoes. Because I’m here all the time, I can see the good that is being done. I try to impart that to my volunteers.” Brett connects his volunteers to the overall experience of volunteering, not just their own unique and personal experiences. “I tell them that not only does the family and any visitor notice the great meals, but our staff notices too. And my volunteers absolutely revere the staff, so that means a lot to them.”

    Do the cumulative good experiences outweigh the immediate bad experience? Hopefully so, because if a person comes to volunteer with the thought that they will make a positive impact in another person’s life, then a rebuff or a moment of disappointment can puncture that warm bubble.
    As Morrie Schwartz, the subject of Mitch Albom’s acclaimed book, Tuesdays With Morrie once said while telling the story of a wave who feared crashing onto shore, “you’re not a wave. you’re part of the ocean.”

    Our volunteers are part of an ocean of good work. Helping them see that is one way to soften any disappointment they may encounter. But our work doesn’t stop there in a warm fuzzy ending. Excellent and continued training about clients, situations and how to view volunteering is also in order. I remember a hospice resale shop manager who was having some challenges with her resale volunteers and their brusque nature towards the folks coming to the back door with goods to donate. “They’re not looking at them as people, so much as nuisances,” she lamented. I asked one of the bereavement counselors to do a workshop with the volunteers and she not only agreed, she made a real difference in their attitudes. She offered stories of how bereaved people view the items they are giving away. It sensitized the volunteers to look at donors in a different light. As one volunteer said, “it’s not just unwanted junk people are bringing in, it’s their lives in a box. We need to be mindful of that.”

    Because we can’t offer continuous training every day and every shift, we reinforce the connections in a continuing dialogue with each volunteer. An example would be saying to an assembly line volunteer feeding the homeless, “your work is amazing. Because you were here to prep those potatoes, we actually fed 200 people this time. And one gentleman said to me that this meal reminded him of a Sunday afternoon at his grandmother’s farm.”

    Volunteer work can be wonderful, messy, unpredictable, illuminating, satisfying and sometimes, disappointing.
    It’s the diligent volunteer manager that keeps each volunteer tethered to the mission and to the overall good work which keeps that bubble aloft.
    -Meridian

  • Volunteers Leading the Way

    treasure hunt“No,” I almost shouted, “you cannot volunteer in that area without proper orientation and training!” I stood, hands on hips picturing this person in front of me as no more than a child. “Why, you ask? Because it’s a requirement, that’s why.” I said in my best Mom authority voice. My hands trembled slightly. I did not care that this person said they had spent 30 years in management. I did not care that they had jumped through all of our other hoops, because what good is a volunteer who won’t listen? I plugged my ears to their simple questions. “I’m sorry, but you either come to the next training, or we can’t use you anymore.” The echo of my footsteps down the tiled floor bounced off the serene artwork on the walls. “I don’t have time for this,” I muttered. “Volunteers need to just get with the program.”

    No, this scene did not happen. Oh boy, I hope you didn’t think it did. But could it? Do we not box up our volunteers like overly taped goods on the way to China? We’ve added background checks, fingerprinting, drug testing and personality quizzes to ensure that crazies don’t wiggle in. We require training and signatures and photo IDs to prevent any “Lone rangers.” We vet and inspect and watch like hawks each one of our new volunteers. And the seasoned ones? Oh, I might have heard one mention something about religion or politics. RED FLAG! RED FLAG! Book the counseling room!

    Since we’ve got it all in control, we can’t let in anyone who might pose a risk, not only legally but also to the assembly line of our volunteer base. Keep ’em in check or all sorts of mayhem might ensue. Yes, we require and require some more and require even more. But what we often do not require is innovative thinking, problem solving, fresh ideas, and good old gut instinct. No, those things are best left to the all-knowing people in power and they will cling to that power even as the ship goes down or is rendered out of commission. While start-ups thrive on new ideas, established non-profits may hold on tight to the ways things have always been done. And that usually involves a line between volunteers and innovation. When is the last time you saw a volunteer sit in on an executive planning meeting?

    The other day I was talking to a group of our volunteers who work in one of the thrift stores. They had forged this great camaraderie with each other over the course of two years and they support one another through life’s challenges. One of them asked me to find the phone number of a new volunteer who just happened to train with them one afternoon. Although, this new volunteer, Hannah trained with them, she will be volunteering on another day with a newly put together team. “We want to call Hannah and invite her to one of our get-togethers,” they said. “We’d like to follow-up with her.”
    “That’s so nice of you,” I said, “I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”
    “Well,” they countered, “have you heard the story of how Hannah came to us?”
    “No,” I admitted, “I didn’t.”
    So they told me. It seems that Hannah was volunteering at another thrift shop for another organization. “Hannah was the right-hand girl for the shop manager. She volunteered three days a week,” they said. “But then, Hannah’s husband got sick and she had to stop for a time so that she could care for him. She said that during that time she never once heard anything from the shop or the organization. Nothing. No card, no call.” The team looked at each other and shook their heads. “When Hannah walked back into the store after her husband recovered, the shop manager said oh, you’re back, good. That’s when Hannah left.”
    I have to admit, I was taken aback. I did not know that about Hannah. But the team went one step further. “We feel like she was treated poorly and we want to make sure that she feels welcomed and needed here. So, we’re going to make sure that happens.” One of the team looked me right in the eye and said, “it’s the right thing to do for volunteers, you know that.”

    Not too long ago I was sitting and talking with a volunteer, Jim who I hadn’t seen for a while. He told me a story about visiting a nursing home patient. He said, “The director of the nursing home pleaded with me to come in on Saturday so that the patient would not be alone with a Saturday worker who made the patient uncomfortable. This worker reminded the patient of a man who had beaten and robbed him several years before. He would get really agitated when he saw this worker.” Jim shifted slightly. “For just a moment, I realized I should call in to see if that was ok, but then I knew: It was the right thing to do. I hope you don’t mind that I took that on myself.”

    Mind? While organizations may see their journey as a straight line, volunteers tend to be able to swarm over wide swaths of terrain, finding and seeking the right thing to do. If we can just relax our holds on them, just a little, imagine all the territory we can cover.
    -Meridian

  • Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!

    mustangThe open door policy, oh boy. If you oversee two or more volunteers, you know what I mean. Volunteer managers pretty much are required to have an open door policy, which is great for keeping informed but is also a killer of productivity. So says Celeste, a volunteer manager who manages more than one hundred diverse volunteers working in a thrift store. Her store is large and is open six days a week. Donations flow through the store all day long, and in between customer service, cashiering, straightening, receiving goods, sorting and pricing, her volunteers are bustling from the moment they arrive to the time they leave.
    “No one can ever question the dedication or work ethic of our volunteers,” Celeste says. “They come in when they have relatives visit them, when they have a slight cold, when they get done with doctors’ appointments. They’re amazing. See, we foster a real sense of team here, and part of that is my open door policy. Believe me, the volunteers are so dedicated, they stop in to check and see if we’ve sold a big-ticket item, or if we’ve got the manpower to sort through that large donation quickly to make sure the good stuff gets to the floor. They even keep lists of customers to call when certain types of items come in, like a particular brand or type of cookware.”
    While it sounds like Celeste has it made, behind the scenes it took a great deal of work to create such a well oiled team of volunteers. And with that team comes the challenges she faces maintaining that team. It’s not like Celeste can go into her tiny back of the store office and watch “Days of Our Lives” while eating power bars and drinking green tea. She, and her volunteers have created a system that works like a fine automobile with Celeste’s availability, encouragement and direction much like the wheels that carry the car.

    With her open door policy though, comes a tiny percentage of volunteers who need more time and space than the others. “I’ve got these two volunteers, Irma and Jean,” Celeste says with a laugh. “They really take the open door policy to a whole new level. It doesn’t matter that I might have someone else in my office, or that I am on the phone, or that I’m really, really busy with bookkeeping, they come in and interrupt me ten times a shift. I think they just have no idea that I don’t have the time for questions like, ‘what happened to that green blouse with the stripes,’ or ‘did you know there’s two identical blue McCoy pottery pieces, how odd is that?’ I suppose it’s a compliment that they feel comfortable with me, but sometimes I feel like the mom who answers her phone and the kids immediately all need attention and start yelling Ma! Ma! Ma!”
    Celeste went on to say, “I’ve heard all the advice from so many people. Close your door, ignore Irma and Jean, leave the office when they are working, interrupt them and politely say that you have work to do, and ask them to please stay out of the office, but it’s easier said than done. Besides, Irma and Jean are great with the customers, and are always willing to work an extra shift when someone calls out. They’re indispensible really, so why shouldn’t I put up with a bit of inconvenience? Heck, I’ve got Joe, who is hard of hearing and makes the customers shout, and Marge, who puts women’s clothes in the men’s section, and Philomena who over prices knick knacks. Oh, and there’s George, who can never seem to remember to turn off the lights and Babe, who can’t see the rips and stains on clothes and puts them out. Am I supposed to nitpick all the volunteers? I can’t do that. We make it through each day with humor and positive thinking, and I appreciate each one of them. And to all those who think that I can make these volunteers eliminate their quirky habits, I say, you have never worked with volunteers. ”
    Ahh ha, how smart Celeste is. If we were to judge our volunteers on their shortcomings we’d have no volunteers. And all that well-meaning advice by those who don’t work with volunteers just does not make sense to us, because we know that perfection does not come without piecing together imperfection. Our volunteer teams are made up of real human beings with gifts and shortcomings. The well oiled machine we produce is vintage. It doesn’t have all the fancy new techie stuff and it may creak here and there and it may take a few minutes to warm up and the windows may hand-roll slowly, but it works. It moves down the street with the air of the artisans who created it. No, our machine was not mass-produced by robots, it was put together with the sweat of the volunteer manager who polished every piece. And in those moments when the throaty sound of that engine revs up, we know that our machine is unique and perfect.

    Let’s face it. A great deal of what we do is a trade-off, and a part of our volunteer’s “pay” is our overlooking of inconvenient things, like the volunteer who interrupts us, the volunteer who needs more of our time, and the volunteer who needs reminding over and over. Should those inconveniences that may look to an outsider like we don’t know how to “control” our volunteers, cause us to lose productive volunteers? I, for one, would rather not lose great volunteers just because they require a little extra of my time.
    Our volunteer teams are created by vision, artisan spirit and a heck of a lot of our time and effort. That well oiled machine is made up of restored parts, and we may have to work harder on some of those parts than others to keep them running properly, but they’re necessary parts.
    I’m off to work now, to drive in my lovingly restored well oiled and polished machine. I may have to do some maintenance and occasionally change out parts or stop for gas, but driving down the street, it is a thing of beauty.
    -Meridian

  • One Does Not a Plurality Make

    sheepDo you ever catch a staff member lumping all volunteers into a herd, like sheep?
    Richard graduated college with a degree in psychology. He took a job as a volunteer manager for a mid-sized organization that places volunteers in area agencies. Richard has plans to continue his education and will apply to the college of social work in two years. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate being a volunteer trainer and manager. I really do, it’s that I’ve had this long-term plan for quite a while. I hope, as a social worker, that I’ll be able to work closely with volunteers.”
    Richard recounted a team meeting that he attended a few weeks back. “It was one of our mandatory meetings for all staff. The CEO, all the senior managers and all of us workers were there. They had presentations, financial reports, and upcoming events. You know the type, there’s some rah-rah stuff where they tell us we’re the best at what we do, and then there’s problem solving talk about things we can do better.” Richard paused. “I was half paying attention, I gotta admit, then one of the marketers got up and started talking about the need for everyone to be more professional. People were raising their hands, giving advice and testimonials. One of the senior managers stood up and said that the volunteers we train ‘were not acting in a professional manner’. My ears started burning. What? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The volunteers I train were not professional?” Richard’s voice went up an octave. “I mean, she was basically saying I didn’t do my job. I take a great exception to that. And here’s the real kicker; no one disputed her!”
    Richard went on to say, “I mean, here’s a senior manager tearing down the volunteers in front of everyone. She painted a picture that all volunteers are unprofessional which is so far from the truth. It was demoralizing and completely bogus. Just because volunteers are an easy target is no excuse for her to foster that impression.”
    Ahhh, Richard, I’ve been down this road so many times. When people generalize about our volunteers, they do enormous harm. Most staff have very narrow views of volunteering; they know the volunteers in their area and sometimes they only come in contact with one or two volunteers. To broad brush an entire force based on here say or one isolated incident is devastating, insulting and frankly demoralizing. I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve had staff say to me, “the volunteers don’t know what they’re doing”, or “the volunteers aren’t very reliable”. In every case, the staff member heard these claims from another staff member who either exaggerated or recalled an isolated incident.
    So, I have learned to nicely confront the person who has painted the picture that our volunteers are sheep in a herd of incompetence. The outcome has been more awareness of broad statements. The last polite confrontation went something like this:
    Me: Sheila, I just wanted to ask you a question about something Dave told me he heard you say in your meeting yesterday. Dave told me that you said ‘our volunteers don’t even know who our CEO is’. Is that accurate or did he misunderstand?
    Sheila: Oh, well, I, I don’t remember exactly, but I might have said something about a volunteer receptionist not remembering the name of our executive director. It really wasn’t that big a deal.
    Me: No, but I would really like to follow-up with that volunteer so that I can make sure she will have the correct information. We wouldn’t want anyone to be embarrassed. Do you remember who that volunteer was?
    Sheila: Well, no, I mean I was told this by one of my staff, Corella who observed your volunteer forgetting in front of a client.
    Me: That certainly is distressing. May I ask Corella who the volunteer is so that I can give her the correct information?
    Sheila: Well, sure, I guess, but really it’s no big deal.
    Me: Thank you, I will follow-up with Corella. Our volunteers are an asset and we want them to act in a professional manner, and believe me, volunteers want to do a good job.
    Sheila: Ok, fine.
    Me: Can you tell me about all the other instances of volunteers not knowing the CEO’s name?
    Sheila: I, I don’t know of anymore.
    Me: Well, that’s certainly good to hear. Fortunately one incident does not mean the majority of volunteers don’t know the CEO’s name. But if I may, in the future, we would really appreciate your coming to us if you have a concern about one of the volunteers so that we can address it. It’s not helpful to air these concerns in a general meeting because it gives others the impression that we are not doing our jobs and that the volunteers are incompetent which I know you know they are anything but.
    Sheila: All right, I will keep that in mind.
    Me: Thanks again, you’ve always been so supportive of our volunteers and we appreciate your help in making everyone aware of the great work the volunteers do.
    Now if you think I don’t actually use that formal business speak, I most definitely do. In order to make my point, I remove all emotion, and speak in a very formal, direct, businesslike manner. My extreme businesslike attitude subtly points out their unprofessional treatment of our volunteers.
    I’ve done this ever since I became very tired of doing nothing about these blanket statements. Embarrassing a senior manager in a meeting by “correcting” his or her broad statements in front of everyone is often a career killer. But, one on one, we can point out the error and ask for help in recognizing the impact our volunteers make.
    Volunteers are not sheep, or children or just little old ladies with no skills, they’re a microcosm of the best our communities have to offer. Volunteers have earned respect, so let’s help our respective fellow staff members remember that.
    -Meridian

  • Little Shop of Horrors

    little shop of horrorsBette is a volunteer who works in a large resale shop. She came to me the other day asking for my help because she had no one to turn to. It seems the shop manager, a paid employee, has been, in Bette words, “bullying the volunteers.” She said it took a lot for her to seek help but the other volunteers are looking to her to fix the atmosphere. Unfortunately, the resale shop’s parent organization has no volunteer managers, so there is no one to run interference for the volunteers. The shop manager has no experience working with volunteers; she has retail experience working with employees. And therein lies the problem.

    Can “regular” staff work well with volunteers?  Sure, I’ve seen it happen many a time. There are employees who respect their volunteers, praise them, look out for them, and make them feel a valued part of the team. They keep their volunteers coming back and seldom have problems with them. Usually, though, they work with just a few part-time volunteers. Then there’s Bette’s shop manager, Carey, who treats her volunteers like bottom of the rung employees. Behind their backs she calls them “lazy” or “incompetent” while failing to encourage them. They are about to revolt.

    Bette reluctantly handed me a piece of paper. On it she had penned a resale volunteer’s list of rights. It took her hours to compose it. I thought it profound and well done. Here it is:

    As a  volunteer who freely gives of my time and abilities, I should be:

    1. greeted sincerely at the beginning of my shift and at the end and told what a good job I did.

    2. treated with the utmost respect and sincerely thanked for my contributions.

    3. made aware that the organization is proud of the work I do and grateful for my service.

    4. able to freely express my concerns without being made to feel as though I am a nuisance.

    5. considered an integral member of the team and a component of the organization’s overall mission.

    Bette loves her work and her shop. She has bonded with the other volunteers and wants them to succeed as a team. She is willing to stand up to make that happen. And what she really, really wants, is to be managed by someone who understands how to manage volunteers.

    -Meridian