volunteerplaintalk

Tag: committees

  • It’s That Time Again for New Words Added to the Volunteer Management Dictionary!

    This Year's New Words Added to the Volunteer Management Dictionary

    Well, it was the yearly meeting time again for the Committee to Define Volunteer Management. This year, the members decided to video conference instead of getting together in person because no one could scrape up the gas money to drive up and back. So, after three hours trying to get the program to work, they all finally called it a night and decided to email each other.

    Once again, none of them could really come up with a statement of less than 3,763 words to define volunteer management, so they decided to quit arguing over whether or not attending volunteers’ birthday celebrations constituted volunteer management and instead, they tackled item number 2 on their agenda and added new words to the volunteer management dictionary. Here are the terms added this year in no particular order of relevance: (or sanity)

    volsplaining: when someone who knows nothing about volunteer engagement but has a grandmother who has been volunteering for 31 years, explains that you “should go to the senior center and talk to those people. Ha, ha, they have nothing better to do.”

    voltriloquist: when a staff member speaks through a volunteer by taking advantage of the volunteer’s kind nature and manipulates the volunteer’s opinions so much that volunteer Betty says to you, “my gosh, have you seen how the records department is so overloaded? I can’t imagine how they get everything done. I try to help these poor, overworked people as much as I can. It’s such a pity they can’t hire more staff. You know, I should get a bunch of volunteers together and march up to the CEO’s office and complain. ”

    GVOAT: Greatest volunteer of all times-you know, you have one. And, sigh, you compare every volunteer to the gvoat. (yeah, wish they would all just be polite and earnest and have this twinkle in their eye when they speak…. oops, sorry, just thought about my gvoat for a minute)

    bogovol: Buy one, get one vol. Some volunteers travel in pairs; they might join as a pair or they might find each other during orientation. They just like to have a buddy to share in their experiences. The bogovol is great when filling requests for multiple volunteers. Also know as 2fervol.

    self-serve volunteering: Volunteering only to enhance a resume, pad a college application, or use the mission to further a goal. You know the ones. Their blinding white smiles and almost superhuman enthusiasm are too good to be true, but hey, you’re not one to judge so you just assume you’ve got a good one, and they arrive the morning of their first assignment, all perfect-looking and they slide a form onto your desk as they plead in their charming way, “can you just fill this out now instead of after I volunteer, it’ll save you time later and well, there’s a deadline to turn this in and I promise I will do everything I said I would do and time got away from me just a bit and besides, I know you don’t want me to miss my deadline, do you?”  Then BAM! No sooner has the ink dried on your signature, they’re out the door before you’ve dropped your promo pen back into your wizard pen holder. Also know as reputation robbers. There’s an old post about this topic here.

    volbot: pre-programmed robotic volunteer. Push the microphone icon, tell it what to do and blip, beep, they whir into action. Staff may not say it to your face, but, oh, they all want one. Need I say more?

    sVaddling: Babying a volunteer because she is friends with your CEO, or the niece of a board member so you’re stuck and you bend the rules and keep her all wrapped up in layers of protection. You can’t tell other volunteers that the reason you’re insulating her is because she will report you to higher management if her feelings are bruised so you just give her lots of slack. You say things like, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she turns in her paperwork, maybe it’s just hard for her,” and then you call her up and try to make her understand that paperwork is mandatory but she brushes you off and so you fill out the paperwork yourself. When the CEO passes by in the hall and says, “oh, hey my friend Annabelle likes volunteering but wants to know if she can change her day to Saturday, would you be a sport and come in this Saturday, you know, to make her fee welcomed,” you just clench your teeth and nod. Also know as kid glove volunteer.

    kudo-slap on the wrist: When wimping out of reprimanding a volunteer by setting a meeting and having all your policies ready and even your documented instances of the volunteer’s infraction of the rules and you’re wearing your best business suit jacket, the one you interviewed for this job in, and then Ba-boom! You’ve got the sandwich principle in your head, the one where you first compliment a person, then talk about their shortcomings, then end on a positive note, but you get started on the compliments and the volunteer is looking at you with those volunteer eyes so you go on about how wonderful they are and how you know their heart is in the right place cause gosh, they said that a new volunteer was dumb but trainable, right? You prattle on for so long while the volunteer’s face glows with the syrup of validation that you can’t bring yourself to actually reprimand them and instead, you hastily type up a commendation certificate which makes you end up in a worse place then when you started. (But the volunteer is happy as heck and proudly shows the certificate to all the other, stunned volunteers)

    vacant lot of praise: The throwing out of meaningless phrases like “we love our volunteers” and “we couldn’t operate without our volunteers.” (and when you point out that volunteers would like specific appreciation, you get a vacant stare.)

    egocorporate: A group of corporate vols who want to volunteer, but want you to arrange their involvement to benefit only them. Time-frame, task, juicy assignment all need to work for their day of volunteering. And so, you bend and bend and bend and then, on the day of volunteering, the 13 extra volunteers that show up because they were kind of shamed into coming, are standing around, checking social media and Ivan, a client’s family member who agreed to speak to the group about how the mission helped his family, can’t be heard over all the pockets of conversations and there’s not enough shovels to start that “garden of love” and half of the volunteers are in suits and high heels and it’s hot out and there’s not enough water so you run to your office and call a trusted volunteer who agrees to go out and get some water and then the corporate volunteers who are just standing around start leaving because they showed up, right and that’s pretty much all they agreed to and poor Ivan knows that everything he said fell on deaf ears and now you could kick yourself because you just probably lost this awesome speaker for future events and the garden is half dug and you have to clean up and now the water arrived, but everyone is gone, so your trusted volunteer is bummed and you missed your nephew’s birthday for this debacle and your brother is going to be mad, not to mention the “dirt hole of love” needs to be filled in.

    Well, there you have it! The committee called and asked me to include a round-up of last year’s words and you can see those words here.

    Thank you Committee to Define Volunteer Management. As usual, you did a great job! (wait, that’s a vacant lot of praise, isn’t it? I really should be more specific. Hey, committee, sorry, I meant you clearly have a talent for massacring words.)

    -Meridian

  • The Shackles of Compassion

    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.

    shackles

    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.

    -Meridian

  • A Life of Its Own

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    -Meridian