volunteerplaintalk

Tag: hospice volunteering

  • Gobble, Gobble, Good God I’m Frazzled!

    pumpkin2
    Willow, a new volunteer manager for a small organization providing aid to the homeless population in her town, answered her phone the day before Thanksgiving. She had spent long hours that week, organizing and recruiting volunteers to help prepare the annual meal held at a local high school auditorium. Exhausted, her brain overloaded, she tried to muster up enough energy to sound human on the incoming call.

    The caller identified himself as Harry, the coach of a soccer team consisting of 15-year-old boys. “I’d like to get these boys involved in helping others,” he told Willow. “We’d like to come out and feed the homeless tomorrow.”

    Willow felt a throbbing in her forehead. “How many players are we talking about?”

    “Not the whole team, mind you, about 7 or 8.”

    Tears filled her eyes like the bubbles in a natural spring. The volunteer slots were set in stone. It had taken every fiber of her new volunteer manager being to accomplish that. She was bone weary and wondered, why did this man wait until now to call? How could he think that there was no coordination in putting together something so incredibly complicated? Why does no one understand?

    It’s happened to all of us. Often, people call at the last moment to help, especially at holiday times. After it happens, you begin to expect it and it is incredibly frustrating to have to tell a group of willing helpers that they are not needed because they procrastinated or called on a whim. They are, after all, potential volunteers. Granted, most might never volunteer again, but there’s always that little voice in our heads that sneers, “there goes a group that might just have been the greatest group of volunteers known to man. And you denied them. Tsk, tsk.”

    So, what to do if you are not able to just dust off those last-minute potential holiday volunteers? If you feel that a part of your job is to give people the chance to experience the deep, satisfying joy in volunteering, then you will feel a twinge of guilt or sadness when having to refuse someone, even if they called too late. We all know that holidays bring out the desire to help and that each “drop in” volunteer might become an advocate for our organizations.  Can we accommodate those late comers without making the holidays a nightmare for ourselves?

    Yes, there is a way. It’s not perfect mind you, but it’s better than feeling overwhelmed and guilty at the same time. And it takes implementing now.

    So that the future you is not caught in a holiday trap, prepare for the season right now. Before the holidays creep up on you, create some projects that last-minute folks can do. Don’t save the work that must be done but be ready with some extra projects that are off premises and not in direct contact with clients. (No background checks needed). You can invite these one time volunteers to become official volunteers at a later time.

    Start now by asking everyone in your organization for fantasy projects. Ask, “If you had 3 or 5 or 10 volunteers over the holidays, what could they do?” Does marketing fantasize about hundreds of distributed holiday flyers? Does the thrift store secretly salivate over a huge deep cleaning and resorting for the season? Does finance have a tired office that cries for a fresh coat of paint? Is there a corner where an extra decorated tree would look lovely? Do you partner with other agencies and can you ask them if they have projects? I’ve always been able to find a nursing home that was extremely grateful for some extra help during the season.

    You can also create your own meaningful projects. Go to social workers and ask if they have a family that needs Christmas presents because of financial need and then create a “gift tree” with the ages and sizes of family members on paper ornaments. Buying a gift for someone who is going through a tough time is a very satisfying introduction to volunteering. Don’t be afraid to create a project in which the participants will have to spend a bit of money. That never seems to matter.

    One time volunteers can certainly write holiday cards and wishes to older clients or children. They can have a card writing party off premise. Ask a willing volunteer to attend to explain how much these cards mean to your clients. The point is to be creative. You know the difference between meaningless work and projects that can actually enhance the holidays. Have an extra tree to decorate, or paper place mats to color (good for youth groups to do). Ask your existing volunteers if they would be willing to mentor a group when necessary. Stock up on craft supplies now.

    Then, when someone calls last-minute, instead of having to say, “sorry, but there’s nothing I can give you,” you can invite the late comers to get their feet wet by tackling a small but worthwhile project. If the latecomer says no, at least you offered something. I’ve had folks tell me that my organization was the only one  who even tried to place them. That good feeling can translate to future volunteers.

    You, by virtue of being a volunteer manager, take care of everyone around you. Take care of yourself this holiday season by preparing now for those inevitable 12th hour but sincere calls to help. Your future self will thank you.

    -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

  • Defining Success

    coal miners wikipedia wikipedia

    The first time I met Alex many years ago, I noticed his manicured nails. He had the soft hands of wealth. His was not a gaudy proclaiming wealth, but an understated old mixed with new wealth. A retired corporate lawyer, with his much younger wife still working, he wanted to fill his days with something meaningful to do. He’d not had a hospice experience, but he’d heard that hospice was a good organization to volunteer for and he wanted to try it out.

    He stuck out in orientation. From his formal weekend wear to his lawyer inspired questions, he animated the sessions with his analytical take on things. The rest of the diverse but more laid back class was somewhat intimidated by him. (Me too if you must know- and yes I tell myself that I’m no better and no worse than anyone else, but heck, my clothes wouldn’t keep their shape like his did).

    After the six orientation sessions were over, I met with Alex in my office. He was polite and cerebral and together we formulated that with the help of a seasoned volunteer, he could begin volunteering in our care center.
    Alex called me often to ask questions. He would show up at my office door every time he came in to volunteer. Knowing that he was used to doors always opening  when he knocked, I allotted time for him. Was he smart? Oh my, I think I could have applied for 3 credits at a local college after listening to his measured thoughts.
    Since the care center staff had really never seen anyone quite like him, I was peppered with lots of questions and comments. “One of those successful types,” a nurse said one day. “He asks a lot of questions,” another said and added, “you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

    One day, a new patient, Lester came into the care center. A coal miner from West Virginia, Lester was in his late 80’s. His wife had died young and although he had no children, he had an old phonograph that played bluegrass music day and night. We all were used to walking past his room, hearing the lively strains of banjo, fiddle and mandolin drifting up and down the halls as if over the hills of a coal camp. As thin as a pick axe, Lester spoke of a time when his wife scrubbed his coal stained clothes until her hands bled and the chocking black dust laid upon the ground outside his camp house door.

    Alex began to visit with Lester more frequently. He sat in Lester’s room while the phonograph scratched out “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” and listened to Lester’s stories of moving from job to job until the mines became more mechanized. As time passed, Alex began to place his chair closer to lean over to hear Lester and I would observe him, elbows on knees, straining to catch the flooding memories. Then, one day, the absence of bluegrass music outside Lester’s door spoke volumes. Lester was actively dying and his phonograph had grown quiet. He had turned it off. Alex came to me and tentatively said, “I have an acquaintance who plays the banjo and knows any number of Lester’s favorite songs. Do you think I could ask him to come in and play for Lester?” We checked with the charge nurse and social worker and Alex was given permission to bring his friend in. By this time, Lester had not stirred from bed, but lay peacefully, quietly slipping away.

    I skipped a meeting that day, shut my office door and crept down to the care center. The stomping good sound of the banjo’s strings was glorious. I peeked into the room and saw Alex’s friend’s frenetic fingers pick that banjo, his eyes smiling at  Lester, who was now somehow sitting upright, a look of bliss on his worn face. Alex nodded to me from the very corner of the room. I wondered if Alex consciously picked the color of his shirt that day to blend in with the wall color.

    Lester died two days later. Alex and I sat in my office, the lack of music deafening. He did tell me that his friend was honored to be able to play for someone who breathed those mountain roots. Alex got up to go. It wasn’t the time to badger him with questions about how he was going to process this experience, not yet anyway. Right then it was time to silently let it all sink in.

    What makes a person successful? I’d say Alex pretty much had it all figured out.
    -Meridian

  • What’s Over Our Volunteers’ Shoulders?

    ironWe can’t follow our volunteers around every minute of every assignment. I know for you closet control types, this evokes the anxiety akin to your child’s first day of school. You stand outside the window pressing your nose against the glass trying to will the teacher and other children to be nice, but all you see is your breath clouding the view.

    I know this because I’m a control freak too and think that by hovering over the volunteers I can chase away the bad things that will make a volunteer quit. I’m the volunteer parent who peeks in while volunteer Johnny is working just to make sure no creepies are lurking in the corner. Call it a mother hen syndrome, a realistic approach based on history or just plain Volcontrol insanity; I make a living smoothing the creases in the fabric of volunteering. Nuts, huh?
    So, of course, when new volunteer Julie, a perfectly capable young woman was going to meet a new patient in a nursing home for the first time, I had to go along. After all, would she be able to find his room? Would the nursing home staff be kind to her? Would she feel thrown to the wolves by my absence?
    I agreed to meet Julie one afternoon after lunch. She was actually going to meet this patient, Ezra, and speak to him about writing down his life story. It’s a wonderful way to do a life review and also provide a real legacy for subsequent generations. The activities director of the nursing home, Cara, had mentioned that Ezra enjoyed reminiscing and was a perfect candidate for recording his life.
    Anyway, I met Julie in the nursing home lobby and we headed for Ezra’s room. He wasn’t there so we inquired at the nurses’ station and they directed us to the dining room where the residents had just finished their lunch. Ezra was there, in his wheelchair, sitting at a table by himself, sipping his juice. We sat down and introduced ourselves. I sat at Ezra’s left at the square, four person table and Julie sat at his right. I had a clear view of the hallway leading out of the dining room and could watch anyone coming or going. Ezra was absolutely delightful. With an elven smile and self-deprecating attitude, he assured us that his life was not interesting at all, but as we gently prodded, we found out that he had grown up in an orphanage, had taught himself to play the piano and worked in a traveling circus as a teen. His circus job was to help assemble and break down the tents, tend to the animals, learn and do magic tricks and sometimes fill in for one of the clowns. He married at 17, raised three daughters, graduated college at 33 and became a pharmacist and opened his own drugstore. Now, at 87, Ezra was succumbing to disease but his eyes lit up in the memories born of experiences that shaped his autobiography.
    While Ezra chuckled through a story about his wife’s overbearing mother, I happen to glance up and see a woman coming down the hallway towards the dining room. She was gracefully tall with dark hair and her casual clothes suggested a visitor. She locked eyes with me, her expression hostile so I looked away for a moment to escape her gaze.
    And then it hit me. The daughter claws were out. This was Ezra’s daughter approaching and she needed to know who was sitting down with her father. Tersely she put her hand on her Dad’s shoulder and introduced herself. “I’m Hannah,” she said, reaching for my hand. “And you are?”
    I introduced both myself and Julie and explained that we were there to begin a life stories project with her Dad. Hannah sat down and her eyes darted back and forth as she scrutinized us asking her father questions. As Ezra reminisced, Hannah slowly became animated, smiling at the stories. She began to interject, gently prodding her father for clarity and offering her version of events.
    We sat and chatted for two and a half hours, much longer than we had originally planned on staying. We could have stayed longer. As Julie and I got up, promising to return, Hannah shook our hands. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said.
    “Your father is a special man,” I said.
    “He is. All three of us, my sisters and I were so fortunate to have him as a father.”
    Julie assured Hannah that she would return soon to continue recording Ezra’s stories.
    As we left, I looked over my shoulder at Hannah, who was hugging her father and smiling broadly.
    Julie and I said goodbye in the parking lot. I thanked her and she thanked me for the opportunity. It always gives me a thrill when volunteers are grateful for the very jobs they do so well.

    While I tag along and look over the shoulders of volunteers to prevent made up disasters, I secretly really want to experience what they experience. It’s soul filling for me, and when you get to see a daughter animatedly tell you how much your time spent with her special father means to her, it gives you all the reason needed to do your job.
    With that kind of reinforcing experience, I’ll hover anytime.
    -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

  • Soulplasty

    up periscopeI didn’t make an appointment to repair my soul, because I really never stop to think that I need it. Every morning, I can see in the mirror how a face lift would go a long way to erase crinkling lines, but my soul, well it’s hard to see, at least in the daytime.
    So, when, Hannah, a volunteer who roams the floor of a hospice care center came and got me, I wasn’t thinking about going under life’s knife, but then you have to know Hannah.
    So quiet, she sometimes melts into the carpet, Hannah, at just over 5 feet tall, is like a submarine in shallow water. Her radar is spot on and in between her torpedo jokes, she gets to the heart of a patient and family. When Hannah summons you to “see this” you’d better believe it’s beyond cute or nice or lovely. It’s soulplasty. She summoned me on Monday to hear about a terminally ill man in one of the rooms. “I’ve been invited to be in on the ceremony,” she said as if I knew what the heck she was talking about.
    “What ceremony?” I asked.
    “The wedding.”
    “Wedding? Who’s getting married?”
    “He is, the patient, George.”
    “Oh, wow, who is he marrying?”
    “His live in girlfriend. I’m waiting for the chaplain.”
    It didn’t surprise me that Hannah would be included in something so personal, so intimate, so life altering. She has this way of entering a room. She arrives, testing the emotional temperature with her eyes and ears, and becomes a part of the scene. She doesn’t throw out pleasantries, she’s all business and that business is the family in front of her. Her demeanor says, “I’m here and I’m all in no matter what’s going on.”
    Our chaplain arrived. I really wanted to ask to join the group, but of course that would be about me and not about the patient so I picked at a piece of peeling wallpaper down the hall waiting to hear.
    Hannah came out a short time later and nodded to me. It was done. I got some coffee and waited for Hannah to join me at a table in the lounge. She sat down and unwrapped her very long very chic scarf as if removing a part of a uniform.
    “How did it go?” I asked.
    She sat for a moment, processing and then spoke. “It was really good, he’s barely able to speak now, but he got the words out. He told her what he needed to say.” She choked up a bit and stopped. I could only just sit there and try to grab the emotions filling the room.
    “What about his wife?”
    Hannah smiled. “She positively glowed.” She twirled her scarf in her hand. “This was the one thing he insisted on, the one thing he had to do before he died.”
    “Was it for a religious reason?” I gently asked.
    “No.” She paused and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “He didn’t do it out of guilt, or responsibility, or some social expectation, he did it because for him, it was his own personal responsibility laid bare. It was out of pure love.”
    We both grew quiet. Then Hannah said, “Do you ever get a moment when everything seems to make sense?”

    Yes, I actually do.
    Yesterday I spent the day helping honor veterans for veterans day. As I stood in the cold room of a Navy Pilot, he softly said, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Tears filled his eyes, and he shakily reached for my hand. I got close and felt his weakening life through his grip. He looked up at me and for a moment everything melted away, the room, the facility, the world. I could feel the battles, now distant, the coming home, the hard work, the family and friends, the joys and the heartaches. His voice, just a whisper now held the power of eternity.

    It is this reparation of soul, whether we feel it firsthand or through the stories of our volunteers that give us sustenance. It is the interconnectedness of human to human to human and on that makes us do what we do.
    I’m taking my newly repaired soul back to work and know that it will get battered with stress and challenges. But, at least I also know that another moment of soulplasty will come my way just when I don’t know I need it.
    -Meridian

  • The Shiny New Coin

    JFK CoinThe shiny new coin, there is nothing like it. It actually has a scientific reason for its radiance. During the coin striking process, the mint luster is born. The coin isn’t shiny because the mint polishes it, it is shiny because the metal changes on a molecular level.
    David is a retired physicist. When he arrived at new volunteer orientation, I honestly did not know what to make of him at first. A giant bear of a man, his full white beard and shaggy head of hair made him look like a cross between Santa Claus and a guy who just stumbled out of the wilderness. His soft shoes and wrinkled khakis matched his sleepy voice. “I hope I’m not late” he said quietly as he joined the others. The other volunteers, who had already arrived looked up at him and then at me as if to say, “Who on earth is this guy? And what will we do with him?”
    Our class was fantastic as most volunteer orientation classes are. I love to watch the group dance around each other at first, then slowly as they learn their group rhythm, they take partners and switch as they emotionally swirl around the room, getting to know each other. As their comfort level increases, they relax and share opinions, histories, fears and hopes. It’s invigorating, educating and fulfilling all at the same time.
    I thought David might be the wallflower, awkward and shy, unable to garner a dance with anyone, but I was wrong. In his calm voice he engaged everyone brilliantly, doing an emotional tango with each member of the class. Before long, we had lively debate and discussion, tempered with genuine care for one another. We met four times and I know I came away feeling refreshed. I hoped the class members did as well.
    David called me several times before he was placed with a volunteer mentor and I got to know more about this shiny new coin. He had some experiences helping friends and relatives, but this was his first formal volunteering venture. We talked about questions he had regarding working with dying patients, and we talked about personal motivations. He was hesitant and hopeful and promised to call me after his first real experience.
    David called me this past Monday morning. It was about 9am and as with every Monday, the week seemed daunting so when he called I sat myself down and tried to focus. “Hi David,” I said, “what’s going on?”
    David asked me if I had time to listen and I of course said yes. With volunteers, any time is the right time. If we put them off, we’ll never carve out the precious time to hear what they have to say. As I settled in, David said that he mentored with a seasoned volunteer, Hal in a hospice house. He told me that Hal showed him around, teaching him all the little things that needed to be done. Then Hal brought David into a room with a patient, Mary. Mary, an 87 year old former cook from Ireland was lying peacefully, eyes closed in her bed, and Hal whispered a hello that hung in the air. He quietly told David that Mary did not respond to his voice but that he would often just sit with Mary so that she wasn’t alone.
    “Would you like to sit with her while I check on other patients,” Hal asked David and he agreed, but was somewhat nervous at his first real experience.
    David’s voice grew quiet, a breath in the line. “I don’t know what possessed me, but I sat close to Mary and looked at her face. Something took hold and I started singing softly. I sang “Danny Boy” to her and I don’t really ever sing, not much. I would imagine that she couldn’t hear me, but she opened her eyes and looked at me. And then she smiled, the most beautiful peaceful smile I’ve ever seen. When I was done, she closed her eyes again. So I sang another song and she opened her eyes again and watched me sing. Every time I would stop she would close her eyes, and when I would sing again, ever so softly, she opened her eyes. I can’t quite put into words, but I felt like we connected on a level so deep that time and place meant nothing.”
    “Wow,” was really all I could whisper, caught in the still moment.
    “Is it always like this?” David asked and I could picture him on the other end of the phone, his molecular volunteer structure lined up so perfectly.
    What could I say? “The possibilities are yours to find,” I told him. (Just like we found you, a shiny new coin.)

    My Monday melted away and I felt my molecules returning to their own luster. If I helped even just a wee bit in aligning David’s molecular volunteer structure, I feel honored and humbled and so fulfilled.
    As we mentor the volunteers in our care, think of their volunteering as a newly minted coin, forged by inspiration.
    The shiny new coin. There’s nothing like it.
    -Meridian

  • Nepotism Volunteer Style

    cat my spaceFrom the “Common Sense Observation Dictionary”: Nepotism=Hiring really obnoxious, unqualified people who are related to someone in power and cannot be fired so get used to it.
    Is nepotism really that bad and does it exist in the volunteer world?

    Well, you might have noticed that when the economy slows and there are very few jobs out there, it becomes all about who you know or who your Mom works for. Organizations are really not immune from nepotism. A job in finance opens up and before you can recommend a really awesome volunteer who ran a CPA firm for years, boom, a senior manager’s son who just graduated with a degree in ancient religions is sitting at the new desk. Now the finance department has to teach him everything from the ground up, while he continues to spend his lengthy lunch hour looking for a position in a museum.
    There’s the out of work husband, the newly graduated son, the recently laid off daughter. Family ties are never so strong as when the relative of a favored senior manager needs a job. At times you watch, feeling the helplessness, as the supervisor of this new employee has a hard time reprimanding him because he doesn’t follow rules or he just doesn’t do the work. And you muse, “what have we become? I thought we were an organization based on ideals.”

    Nepotism extends to volunteering as well, so henceforth, I will refer to them as “nepoteers.” Cindy, a volunteer coordinator said, “One of my senior managers has a daughter who needs hours for scholarships. Now, I am happy to take this student, but the senior manager waited so long that her daughter can’t come to orientation and can’t really follow the path I have set out for students. Now, I have to fast track the daughter to help out the senior manager. It’s really not that big of a deal, but it’s irksome that because it’s a senior manager, I have to bend the rules.”

    Does a nepoteer need court ordered community service hours and it’s against your policy to accept them, but you come to find out that a manager really needs a favor from you and so you accept their relative? Do you have strict rules regarding volunteer training or age limits and you end up bending rules to help out a favored employee? Do staff members say, “But, even though she’s 12, she’s incredibly smart and mature, and oh, by the way, she needs to be here all day, every day during summer and really needs to be busy.”
    I am recalling the time a friend of mine, Megan, who was a volunteer coordinator for a very short time, accepted a nepoteer who was 15 and the daughter of her organization”s CEO. Megan remembered, “Evie, the 15-year-old, would show up for her shift and then sneak out the back door and meet her boyfriend. I chased after her twice and then got up the nerve to report her to her mother. Do you know what her mother’s response was? She said, ‘yes, I knew she would try to sneak out, that’s why I brought her here. I can’t leave her alone. So, whatever you do with her, don’t let her sneak away.’”

    Just as staff sometimes has to adapt to a nepotism employee, we sometimes have to adapt to a nepotism volunteer. The challenge for us is twofold. We dream at night that the nepoteer rats on us and tells the high-ranking manager that we are incompetent. On the other hand, we realize that if this nepoteer is ambivalent about having to volunteer, but for some reason has to, then what can we get from them to help our clients?

    I remember reading a blog a few years back in which a young man talked about having to do community service. He spoke of his experience at a volunteer site and at first made fun of the volunteer coordinator and her “niceness.” Oh did that make me mad, but as he wrote further, he came to begrudgingly appreciate the mission of the organization. Wow, I thought, kudos to that volunteer coordinator.
    That day, I realized that I was being horribly judgmental when faced with nepoteers. I was dismissing them because I thought the reason they came was not a good enough one. I was building a barrier because I figured they couldn’t possibly do good work as their motivation was not pure. But heck, I realized that all the other volunteers come with so many different motivations and I didn’t prejudge them, so prejudging the nepoteer was hypocritical and unfair.
    So the next time I was handed a nepoteer, a 14 year old male who needed to complete service hours, I made myself welcome him. Daniel shook my hand, scanned everything on my desk, from the disarray of papers to the pink glass elephants and worry doll (given to me by volunteers traveling to exotic lands-please take me next time) and said, “my Mom told me you were a busy lady.” I smiled. He turned out to be one of the most engaging young students I have ever met. He was able to chat with anyone, regardless of age, culture and prejudices. He would bounce in and tell me physics jokes and we had a good friendly sports rivalry. He gave me numerous computer tips, and baked cookies in his young Renaissance man style.
    Was Daniel a coincidence or was Daniel dropped in my lap for a universal lesson? Had I treated him with disdain, would he have been a different nepoteer?
    What I learned was that volunteer motivation applies to nepoteers as well. Their motivation may be to complete an assignment, check off hours or fill time. We see these reasons to volunteer all the time in other volunteers.

    And maybe not all nepoteers will be a Daniel. Maybe not all nepoteers will suddenly become so engaged that they win a volunteer award.

    But maybe, if our treatment of nepoteers is no different than our treatment of volunteers, they may do some good work and leave a friend to the mission.
    -Meridian

  • Confessions and Connections

    tinkertoySometimes our view of the volunteer world can be shaken. We read that a volunteer harmed a vulnerable person. We find that a volunteer was hiding a checkered past or we observe a volunteer behaving in an unseemly manner.
    We send a volunteer out to do a good job and when we hear nothing to the contrary, we assume that everything is rolling along smoothly, because everyone realizes the worth of a volunteer and will welcome that volunteer, right? At least we hope it happens that way until we hear a confession sometime later…
    Kaya, a hospice volunteer coordinator was speaking to a former volunteer, Jayne. Jayne has been battling a chronic illness that prevents her from volunteering but, when healthy, was one of the most called upon and successful patient volunteers.
    In between all the catching up, Kaya and Jayne chatted about a few of Jayne’s favorite assignments and most interesting patients and families. She provided respite care to families in homes and brought companionship to nursing home residents.
    Kaya said, “Jayne played by the rules, turned in paperwork on time and always was cognizant of her representation of the mission. But at one point Jayne asked me if I remembered assigning her to see patients in the Golden Oaks nursing home.”
    Kaya hesitated. “Yes, I said, I remember that, but I also remember that you couldn’t go back because of the cleaning fluid they used. It gave you respiratory problems. But then Jayne told me that wasn’t true at all, that she lied to me and asked me if I wanted to hear the real story. I, of course said yes and she told me this story.”
    Kaya shook her head, but she continued, “Jayne said that she went to visit a patient at Golden Oaks, a 90 some year old lady who had end stage Parkinson’s disease. She said she was in the room with the patient when a staff member came in with a lunch tray and told Jayne to feed the patient. Jayne said she told the staff member that she was not allowed to feed patients and the staff member got mad and demanded to know why she was there in the first place if she couldn’t really be any help. Jayne said she kept her cool but another staff member, who appeared to be a supervisor came into the room and basically said the same thing.” Kaya stopped for a second. “I can’t tell you how shocked I was to hear that. First of all, how dare someone treat a volunteer that way and second of all, I thought of all the good these volunteers do for patients and how Jayne could have just as easily up and quit after that. I wanted to ask why Jayne didn’t tell me when it happened, but I reconsidered. I didn’t want to make her feel like she had let us down, not after all the good work she has done. But it makes me wonder what other situations occur that volunteers are unwilling to tell me.”

    tinkertoymazeVolunteer managers construct intricate helping structures. While we may be the hub or first connector for our volunteer helping structure, we must rely on other connectors (other people) to extend out further. The further you build out, the more fragile the structure becomes. Any volunteer that reports directly to the volunteer coordinator is being engaged by someone who knows how to cultivate volunteers. The further out on the structure the volunteer goes, the more the volunteer manager must rely on the soundness of new connectors (other people) interacting with the volunteer. Do these new connectors understand the volunteer’s role? Does a new connector know how to engage a volunteer? Is the new connector aggravated at having to monitor a volunteer on top of other duties or perceive a volunteer as a nuisance?
    While we understand that we cannot control every situation and every person a volunteer interacts with, we understandably can worry about our volunteers when they are being engaged by other people unknown to us. And, after spending a great deal of up front time mentoring a volunteer, it is disheartening to think that a callous comment or flippant attitude can quickly ruin that.
    When I started accompanying volunteers on their first assignment and introduced them to the key stakeholders, I found that some of these problems were minimized. One of our roles as volunteer managers is to educate other people on how to work with volunteers. The skills needed to retain volunteers are second nature to us, but aren’t all that obvious to everyone else who may have stressful jobs and responsibilities that prevent them from seeing the volunteer picture.
    This approach takes more work on our parts, but it’s necessary, both for the mission and for the volunteer. As we extend our helping structure out, we need to personally check on the connectors being used, to ensure soundness and strength.
    After all, the delicate structure we create is a thing of beauty and support for our clients. We don’t want it to fall.
    -Meridian

  • I’m Going to Be Locked in a Room With a Naked Man?

    personal shopperOh, those odd requests. You know, the ones that can either make you cry or seek therapy. We get them all the time and our volunteers can sometimes just walk into them. The other day, I was talking with one of our retired volunteers, Greta, who, for 12 years provided respite in the homes of terminally ill patients. Completely nonplussed, Greta would take the assignments that no one else would or could. She particularly loved working with men whose care giving wives needed time to shop or visit relatives or even take a nap in the next room. Some of the male patients cared for by Greta had dementia or Alzheimer’s, which made for a challenging time.
    She recalled the day we sent her to a patient’s home and she met with the man’s wife who calmly instructed her to lock herself in the bedroom with her husband. “He tends to wander,” she said. “And oh, he usually walks around naked.”
    Luckily, Greta, a retired psyche nurse and case manager, had already been to odd request-ville and survived. Completely unfazed, she would coax the patient to dress himself.
    She talked about another patient she dubbed “Bad Brad.” Bad Brad would flush anything and everything down the toilet if he got near the bathroom. Greta put a stop sign on the bathroom door. “I just looked at everything as doable,” she said. “And if I couldn’t, well, you heard about it!”
    We all get the out of the ordinary requests.
    There are the unusual requests for volunteers who can sing in Olde English, or volunteers that have no sense of smell.
    While odd requests may seem like a hardship, they are actually a chance to step back and think outside the box, even if you cannot fill the request exactly as it was put forth. That’s when bargaining can be used, because we ultimately want to help our clients. “Maybe I don’t have a volunteer who plays “Bringin in the Georgia Mail” on the fiddle, but I do have a volunteer who has a fine collection of bluegrass cds.”

    Mindy is a volunteer coordinator who has always tried very hard to fulfill every volunteer request. She has meticulously paid attention to exact needs and worked hard to find the perfect volunteer fit. “But lately,” she says, “I’ve found myself wanting to be involved in the requests before I begin to fill them. I’m finding that the more I speak directly to the clients, the more I can get a sense of the type of volunteer they need. And I can offer the type of volunteer I think would work for them and the volunteer who is actually available. It’s made my job so much better and given me a proactive way of filling needs. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

    Being proactive is an excellent tool for not only managing the amazing volunteers we have, but for showcasing the skills and possibilities of the volunteers who may not have a current assignment. We don’t have to wait for invitations to planning meetings. We can ask to be included. We can come with a menu of volunteer services and offer to plug volunteers into the spots that we know we can fill even when there is no request. Think of it as akin to being a personal shopper. Personal shoppers get to know their clientele and because they also know all the designer clothing lines, they can offer the outfits that flatter their clients’ body types.

    Mindy continued. “I know who my volunteers are and what they are capable of. The rest of the staff in my organization can’t possibly know all I know about them. So, I figure, I can offer the volunteer service I know will work, versus constantly rejecting the requests that I can’t fill. The more I am proactive, the more respect our volunteers receive, and the more I can place volunteers who have a skill or passion in situations that are enjoyable for them. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

    Mindy reinvented the way volunteer involvement is utilized in her organization. She stills receives traditional requests for volunteers, but now, she has taken on an activist role in promoting and controlling the ways her volunteers are assigned. “I’m trying to play to the strengths of my volunteers. They come with varied skill sets and I want to see those skills used.”

    Volunteer management can be a passive position (receive requests, then fill them) or it can be an active position (seek ways to use the volunteers available based on their interests). On the surface this may seem like a no-brainer, but when Mindy stepped back and took a look at the way things were done in her organization, she really had an epiphany. “I had requests that were difficult to fill and I had volunteers who were not being utilized in the most advantageous way. It became clear that I needed to step my role up and become a part of the request process. I’m using the volunteers more efficiently now and I feel so much better about my work.”

    Our roles can and need to expand. For instance:
    Staff: Do you have a volunteer to stuff goodie bags?
    OR:
    Volunteer Coordinator: I see you’re putting together a brochure for services, I happen to have a volunteer who is a graphic designer. I think he could be persuaded to help you with that.

    Because we’re somewhat like that personal shopper, we know our inventory of volunteers and how each one can enrich the ways our organizations serve our communities which will eventually lead to volunteer managers sitting at organizational planning tables.

    Me? If I could afford a personal shopper, I would. They’re really good at their jobs and frankly, I’m not so great at picking out flattering outfits. Maybe staff members who put in requests would appreciate a knowledgeable personal shopper for volunteers too.
    -Meridian