I’m not telling you anything new when I say we all want our volunteers to be acknowledged and appreciated. We all want our volunteers to be treated with respect and looked at as integrals members of our teams. We all want volunteers to be thought about as contributors, not extra little worker bees. So, when that happens, are we, volunteer managers, not completely satisfied? Are we done? (Finally, the volunteers are treated as equals, I can stop clenching my teeth!)
Hmmm, if the answer is a hesitant no, what more do we want? (Besides world peace of course)
So let’s take a little trip if you will and look in at a volunteer manager, Josh sitting at his desk, answering phones, solving problems, listening to stories, making placements, (fine, for brevity’s sake, I won’t list all of the tasks going on) and a staff member wanders into his office. (for giggles, let’s say, a member of senior management) “Wow,” the senior manager says, ” I have to tell you, Ellen is such a great volunteer, she really did an excellent job last week. What a gem she is, you’re really lucky to have her!” Josh immediately smiles, looks up and agrees, “Yes, she is wonderful, thank you so much for acknowledging her contribution, I will certainly pass that along to her.”
The senior manager walks away, mentally patting herself on the back for praising a volunteer. There, now everyone’s happy, right?
Well, yes, but Josh has this nagging little feeling that not everyone and everything has been properly acknowledged. For him, there is a back story to that praise. Now, don’t get me wrong, we are all thrilled to hear our volunteers receive praise. So, then, what is that invisible behemoth of a back story lurking beneath the surface?
In the case of volunteer Ellen, what that senior manager did not know is that Ellen at first spent three months questioning whether volunteering was right for her. Josh allowed Ellen to observe other volunteers in action, invited her to educational in-services and arranged for Ellen to have her own volunteer mentor. Josh spent hours on the phone encouraging and motivating Ellen in order to give her exactly what she needed to feel comfortable. Although swamped with requests, Josh focused in the moment and saw in Ellen the potential to be a great volunteer. So when praise for Ellen also includes the phrase, “you’re lucky to have her,” Josh invariably remembers all his efforts beneath the surface.
Some volunteers are naturally great, some quickly develop into great volunteers and others need more mentoring. It is as much an art to recognize the volunteer who needs little mentoring as it is to find the right way to mentor a volunteer who is unsure. The yin and yang of volunteer management is a nuanced role that takes the eye of an artisan who dabbles in human potential.
When major events go off with no major problems, it’s the volunteer manager who has spent the time calling and recalling volunteers so that they know all the little things like where to park, whether they’ll need to bring water or sunglasses, the proper dress, directions to the event, who to check in with, where the bathrooms are located, and what they will be expected to do. All that work is never seen, only the fact that volunteers are on time and prepared.
Beneath the surface there’s all the time spent hearing volunteer concerns and the follow through in correcting a wrong or getting an answer. Beneath the surface, there’s all the work behind the scenes everyday that volunteer managers do, like dropping everything when a potential volunteer walks in off the street, skipping lunch to visit a volunteer in the hospital, staying late because a student needs papers signed to prove they’ve volunteered, looking up airline tickets for a volunteer who’s computer is broken, making a fuss over grandchildren who have come to visit, going with a volunteer to a doctor’s visit because her daughter lives in another town, looking at pictures of a trip when a report is due, saving that book for a volunteer who loves the same author, framing pictures of volunteers as gifts for their families, and bringing in garden flowers to share.
Beneath the surface of any excellent volunteer program is a volunteer manager who cares enough to work tirelessly with a mixture of raw gut instinct, mother hen tendencies and a passion for human potential. That tip of the iceberg did not poke through the water on its own for it is supported by a massive base of cultivation, patience, persistence and old fashioned sweat.
So, once we get the respect and acknowledgement for our volunteers down and once we are comfortable knowing that our organizations will always treat our volunteers with respect, then maybe we can start working on some recognition for our contributions and our everyday efforts.
It’s a lot to hope for, but I can dream big, as big as that iceberg base, can’t I?
-Meridian
Tag: hospice volunteering
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The Mass That Lurks Beneath the Surface
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One Does Not a Plurality Make
Do 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 -
The Fabric of Volunteering
Sometimes I think about the complexities of our jobs and am amazed at the interconnectedness with volunteers, clients, pairings and life stories. I don’t know about you, but I think the universe smiles kindly on what we do. Like the time I was asked to find a volunteer who could speak Armenian and the very next phone call I took was from a volunteer who worked mainly in the office but mentioned that she just returned from visiting her family in Armenia and yes, she spoke Armenian. The Universe clearly heard the request, but more often we spend thorough and thoughtful time assigning volunteers as we weave the fabric of human connection. Some fabric is soft and warm, some rough, more nubby with little pills of emotion. Each is a wondrous creation in its own way.
But we are not creators only, no, we are part of that fabric. Maybe it’s a bit of our blood as we prick our finger with the needle or maybe there’s a strand of our hair that just happened to land ever so slightly into the cloth as it’s woven, but we are in there as well. Because the volunteers and us, well, we are woven together just as surely as they are to our clients.
Sometimes I look at volunteers, feel the deep connection we have and marvel at how they teach and inspire me and how I hope I’ve given them something in return. I think maybe so. I wonder, as I talk to Betty, whose daughter died ten years ago if she imagines as she speaks to me what a conversation with her daughter would be like had she lived. Am I a substitute daughter? No, but maybe her ability to speak freely to me is a rip in time that mirrors what her conversations would have been like had her daughter survived. (Betty, are you telling me the things you would have shared with your daughter? I kinda hope so, because I feel so connected to you right now)
As I listen to Ben speak of his battle with alcoholism I hear the regrets, not in words, but in unspoken pauses. Because we believed in him, Ben has flourished, his soothing demeanor forged from pain. He laughs freely, and to him, life’s fabric is whimsical, full of ducks with sunglasses. Fortunately, our patients can lean heavily on him; he’s borne his share of sorrows. I wonder if our relationship as volunteer and volunteer coordinator has a symbolic meaning, where I represent some of those people he disappointed all those years ago and perhaps our patients represent redemption.
I think of Jolee, who lived with her mother for all of her life and when her mother died, Jolee retreated into a shell. She decided to volunteer and wants to hang around past her appointed time, because as she says, “I just love you guys. I feel so comfortable here.”
But it’s not always us providing for volunteers. I remember a time when my kids were outgrowing me and I acutely felt the tug of parental letting go. It must have been evident, because one of my favorite volunteers, Paul, sat and had coffee with me one day. He Looked at me for a moment and said, “I want to tell you a story.” He told me about his son, Doug, who back in the early 1970’s, was just evolving into a free spirit. Paul, a decorated WWII fighter pilot, could not understand nor get along with his rebellious son. “It became impossible, the relationship between he, myself and his mother,” he remembered, “and so one day Doug got in my car with his knapsack and I drove him to the edge of the freeway near our house and he got out, not knowing exactly where he was going. As I drove away, I looked in my rear view mirror to see him, thumb out, his long hair whipping in the wind. It was the hardest thing I ever did.” Rugged Paul, misty eyed, smiled. “he went to California, later became a financial analyst and we reconnected. But that day, that day was so hard.”
He had no idea how much his story enveloped me in a warm blanket of experience where I felt the okayness of being scared. Neither does Myrna know how much she weaves around me with her wicked jokes when things are stressful. She has been in remission for several years and though her cancer is just a conversation away, she always tries to make sure I’m doing ok. I am when she’s around.
But that’s what fabric does. It blends together so skillfully that only on close inspection can you see the individual threads. I really feel meshed with the volunteers and their lives. And so, in some small way, I feel deeply connected to their work with our patients and families as if a few of my threads add a bit extra depth to their work.
Together, we, volunteers, those we serve and I are a cozy wool, a cool blend of satin or a breezy colorful cotton, These may be fabrics that exist only in a slice of time, but they have a certain beauty, even if just for a moment.
-Meridian -
The Book and Its Misleading Cover
“Three strikes and you’re out!” That’s my rule and I tell myself all the time, “don’t be a patsy; hold people accountable.” It’s not like I’m a pushover because I’m in the helping business anyway, is it? For cryin out loud, just because someone wants to volunteer, doesn’t mean I have to bend over backwards for them, right?
Well, ok, there I said it. Sounds good on paper. At least it did until I had a call about two weeks ago from a college student named Justus. He left a garbled message for me about his fraternity doing volunteer work, and so I called him back and left him a super happy sounding reply. “Hi there, this is Meridian and I am so excited and can’t wait for you to volunteer with us!” Ok, no, my return messages don’t really sound like a used car salesman, but sometimes I wonder if there is too much desperation in my voice.
On my desk I’ve always kept a yellow legal pad that chronicles the phone calls I receive and make. It is full of graffiti from color highlighters, shorthand and initials, like LM for left message, WCB for will call back, MA for made appointment. I can flip back and see anything that has languished a bit by the highlighted portions. When done, I line through them. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s better than all the post it notes I used to have stuck to everything (including my skirt as I walk away).
For days I went on about my business and then when flipping back over my legal pad, I found Justus’ number with the LM indication. Hmm, he did not call me back so I called him again. This time he picked up and I introduced myself and reminded him that I had left a message. “Oh, right,” he said and hesitated so I added, “You called about volunteering with your fraternity.”
“Yes, yes,” he said,”I got your information off the internet and would like to talk to you about our group doing some volunteering.”
“Ok,” I said, “why don’t we meet? I can come up to your school when it is convenient for you.” There, see, I made it easy for him to get involved. I mentally patted myself on the back and recorded our appointment on my calendar. Done, good.
Our meeting day arrived and I drove up to college and walked to the library where I plunked myself in the first set of easy chairs. I felt ancient, what with all the skinny jeans walking by, but I was “official” so I belonged there, kinda like the mom who polices the slumber party. I looked around at all the students and wafted back to my college days. Library, study, no difference except for all the devices. 9am became 9:15 then 9:30. Hmmm. I pulled out my phone and the slip of paper with Justus’ number on it and texted him. “Am in library, are you here?” At 9:45, I gritted my teeth and left, driving all the way back to the office, thinking of the work that had just piled up because I went on a wild goose chase for some college kid. Drat those irresponsible college types that don’t yet know how unforgiving the real world is!
The next day I had a message from Justus. “I’m so sorry, something came up, can you call me?” “Grrr,” I sputtered as I dialed his number. He picked up and cavalierly apologized and asked to meet. “Well,” I said, “can you come here?” He agreed that he could make the drive and we set a time, 2:00pm, for that Thursday.
Thursday at 2:00? You guessed it, no Justus. At 2:30 I got to serious work and forgot that I was stood up again. But he called at about 3 and said that something came up and could he meet me at 4:30 on Friday. 4:30 on a Friday? Oh, this will be a disaster, I told myself. Normally, I leave at 5:00 if I’m lucky and besides, every Friday at 3:00 I just literally lose all capability for rational thought. But, sighing, I agreed, while internally chastising myself for putting up with such youthful irresponsibility.
Friday was tough, busy, full of problems and issues and at 3:00 exactly, the brain stopped functioning properly. I checked my calendar and groaned. Instead of winding down, I had to gear up for Justus, that is if he actually showed. At 4:20, I walked to the front lobby to see if he was dutifully waiting there, but it was empty. I returned to my desk and finished up. At 4:50, I got a call from the front desk volunteer, Jan. Justus was there to see me. “Thanks, Jan,” I sighed. “Send him back, please,” Since it’s hard to literally kick oneself, I punched myself in the arm for agreeing to the time.
He came back and I waved to the small conference table near my office. “Nice to meet you ” I said, offered my hand and added, “you’ve got ten minutes.” He looked at me, saw my obvious annoyance and sat down.
Justus folded his hands and without prompting, began to tell me about his childhood in Africa and his family’s emigration to America when he was twelve. He talked about the expectations his parents placed upon him and their unwavering commitment to serving whatever community they lived in. He explained how, when he was in high school, he started his own food drive to feed local families in need. He said that he was studying sociology and foreign affairs and hoped to be an ambassador some day. He had earned a full ride scholarship to college and was elected the first Junior year president of his fraternity. His tenure, he told me, would be about serving the community. He had three semesters to make it happen. “I want my fraternity brothers to work hard, to sacrifice. to appreciate all they have when others have so little or nothing. I want them to learn what my parents taught me.”
I looked at the clock. 5:25. I wasn’t interested in going anywhere anymore. I was mesmerized by this young man. (and not in a creepy cougar way, so don’t even go there) At one point, I looked at him and said, “Who are you?” (no, really, I did say that and I got a smile) Clearly, I need to hear more. Mentally I made note that a whole lotta work was coming my way, but hey, how could I pass up this intriguing individual and the fraternity he is guiding?
We shook hands and agreed that I would come out and talk to his group in two weeks. I’ll show up on time and forget about our shaky start. I’m past that silly book cover and having read chapter one, can’t wait to read more.
-Meridian -
If Volunteering Were an Olympic Sport
I arrived in Sochi, Russia, thrilled to be part of the world’s greatest sporting showcase. Stepping out of the cab at the Olympic village, I asked one of the official guides where I could find the volunteer events. He scratched his puzzled head, grunted, “Huh?” and checked his elaborate map. He spent several minutes consulting a static Russian voice on his enormous mobile phone. While he shouted into the contraption, I soaked in the palpable excitement of the noisy Olympic crowd filtering by. I was giddy with anticipation. Finally, the world would see the wonderfulness of our volunteers.
He got off the phone and showed me his map, drawing an X on an empty white spot. “There, you go there,” he said, then handed me the map and walked away. I followed the map, weaving my way in and out of colorful vendors and beautiful buildings until I was in an open field beyond the bustle of Olympic village. There, in the middle of the snowy field was a small industrial building with a hand-made sign that read, “Volympics”.
Gleefully, I entered the building. There were maybe a few dozen people scattered about on folding chairs. Family members, no doubt. I nodded to some folks sharing a bag of potato chips as I settled into my seat.
The first event was the “Booth Freestyle.” Team Major Illness Awareness and Team Animal Rescue had 10 minutes to sort through the enormous pile of random items piled in a corner of the building. The teams had to find a table, table cover and everything necessary to set up a booth showcasing their organization at a fictitious fair. You could feel the tension in the room, or maybe it was the lack of a bathroom nearby. The teams appeared. Team Major Illness Awareness looked nervously at Team Animal Rescue. Each four member team gripped the side rails and waited for the shot signaling the start. They sprinted or walked quickly, really into the arena, attacking the pile like I attack my closet after over sleeping. Finding the items they wanted, each team began to set up an attractive booth. Team Major Illness Awareness settled into making a giant macaroni sign on a poster board, their deft hands glueing the pasta into a giant heart shape. The captain of Team Animal Rescue shouted encouragement as the team stuck animal stickers to the tablecloth while drawing a huge smiling elephant on a white board.
An element of difficulty was added when several Olympic judges, simulating organizational staff walked by shouting “hurry up” and refusing to answer questions. Team Major Illness Awareness arranged give away pens in the shape of a pancreas while team Animal Rescue created paw prints out of jar grippers. The clock ticked away the time and the crowd shouted “three, two, one” and the buzzer sounded. The judges conferred and awarded points for artistic interpretation as well as speed. It was close but team Animal Rescue pulled it out by putting up a cute picture of their Executive Director being nipped by a rescued chihuahua.
I pulled out a granola bar while waiting for the next event. Office Downhill was an individual competition involving stuffing envelopes, data entry and filing. Rickety metal cabinets were wheeled into the arena while an old desk, obsolete computer and a mountain of flyers and envelopes on a card table were dragged into a corner. The first competitor, Museum Guide stepped confidently into the arena. She was given five files, a handful of data entry forms, and no instructions. When her time started, she ran to the file cabinets first, checking the names on the files, quickly sorting them into alphabetical order. She exuded confidence and I suspected she was a volunteer leader at home. She grabbed the file cabinet drawer and pulled but it would not open. It was locked! Panicked, she looked around then wisely searched for a key, finding it taped to the back of the cabinet. After expertly filing the information, she ran to the computer and pushed the button. It sputtered and slowly whirred, so she ran to the table and started stuffing envelopes while the computer booted. Her fingers expertly flew through the pile of flyers, and she ran back to the computer and finished entering the data. The time posted was 12:56:01. Hers was the time to beat. The next competitor, Thrift Store Volunteer, didn’t fare as well. She pulled so hard on the locked file cabinet that it fell over. She managed to complete the other two tasks, but was penalized for folding the flyers face out. The third competitor, Soup Kitchen Volunteer managed to find the cabinet key but shoved all the files into one drawer. He stuffed the envelopes cleanly, but ended up spilling the cold cup of coffee left by the judges on the computer desk. The data was soaked brown and unreadable. The fourth competitor, Hospital Gift Shop Volunteer, took one look at the scene, threw up her hands and said she never did office work in her life. And the final competitor, Youth Mentor Volunteer sped through the course, but got so frustrated with the lumbering computer that he threw it on the floor, therefore being disqualified. The dozen of us in the crowd cheered wildly for all the competitors as they took a bow. We waited in anticipation for the results. Obviously Museum Guide Volunteer was the winner, but the judges conferred and decided to give it to Soup Kitchen Volunteer because he was willing to work on a Saturday night.
The medal ceremony consisted of a nice lunch for all the volunteers with a speech telling them how important they were to their respective organizations. I didn’t get the opportunity to speak to the volunteers, but I’m thinking that they were pretty great people who took their volunteering seriously.
I left Sochi with renewed enthusiasm for volunteers and their incredible depth of talent. I think for a first Volympics, it was pretty good. I’m encouraged, because I heard some officials discussing the next one, and they are thinking about adding the De-Luge event, where volunteer managers are overwhelmed with requests, questions, tasks, phone calls, email, drop-ins, paperwork, problems, and spreadsheets. I may start training tomorrow.
-Meridian -
You Have Reached This Website in Error
We’re so used to the computer prompt when we see it: You are being redirected to another site. “Fine,” we think and we simply ease into the new locale. But did you ever think about why and how we are being redirected? Neither do I, but I think there’s probably a back story there.
Mary is a relatively new volunteer. She came to orientation like a firecracker tossed into a library. Mary introduced herself to everyone in the room before I could slip in my cute little icebreaker. During breaks, the class was talking up a storm. Usually it takes a session or two for that kind of comfort, but with Mary present, we cut to familiarity. She answered questions with stories, asked other participants to add more and before orientation was over, she had everyone’s number. Literally, she had all their phone numbers.
Mary wanted to work with patients and families and so we paired her with a seasoned volunteer, Joyce in a hospice house. “Well, she is chatty,” Joyce reported back. “She really got to know a lot about me.”
“But how did she do with the patients and families?”
“Fine,” Joyce said. “She asked a lot of questions. She seems genuinely interested in the patients’ lives.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s how I viewed Mary as well.’ Her chattiness is unique. She doesn’t chat about herself so much as she chats about your life as she gets to know you. It’s like having a great-grandmother who grills you each time you visit. It’s both soothing and nerve-wracking at the same time. I sensed that Joyce was holding back, so I asked her if she thought Mary had the potential to be a good volunteer.
“Yes,” she slowly said. “The thing is, she might just talk too much when a family just needs peace and quiet. I’m not sure she can be silent.”
“So, you think we shouldn’t put her with patients?”
“No, I don’t think that. It’s hard to say. I think we should give her a chance.”
Now, most of the time, folks like Mary settle down into volunteering and do a great job. As they learn from other volunteers, they adjust and adapt and it is thrilling to hear them say things like, “I’ve learned so much,” and “I’m getting the hang of it.”
But, although Mary genuinely cared for each patient and family she encountered and asked appropriate questions, her chattiness continued.
One day, a staff member tentatively approached me and apologized for bringing this up, but, it seems that Mary was in the room with a patient and family, over stayed her visit and pretty much chatted with them when all they wanted was to sit and be still. So we called Mary in and talked to her about her experience.
“What a beautiful family,” Mary said. “I learned how each member of this family traveled over distances to get here to be with their father.”
“That’s a lot of information you gathered,” I said.
“Oh, they were so wonderful to talk to. I loved it.”
We talked more and I finally said, “Mary, you also need to know when to exit. Families can be weary and although they love how you listen, they also need us to leave them alone too. Do you sense that?”
“I do,” she admitted. “I don’t want to cause them any more pain.”
So, she promised to watch out for over staying her welcome in patients’ rooms.
The next week the charge nurse came to see me. “We’ve got to do something about Mary.” she said.
“Uh oh, what happened?”
“Well, one of my nurses observed Mary talking to a family member at the coffee station. The nurse had to rescue the family member from Mary so he could go see his uncle.” The charge nurse then said, “You know, this is not the place for her.”
Well, I had to admit, after further talking with staff, the charge nurse was right. Mary’s exuberant chattiness was not suited for the quieter nature of a hospice house. What to do with her?
An answer came quite unexpectedly. One of the bereavement counselors happened to stop by and we talked for a bit. He mentioned that he had a lady client who needed a special volunteer to be her bereavement friend. “She is so lonely, she really needs someone to pay attention to her and well, just socialize.”
I jumped at the chance to place Mary and so I called her up and asked to meet with her. She timidly came in and asked if I was going to fire her. “No,” I said, “Why would you think that?” (I love that question, because clearly if a volunteer asks that, they have an inkling that something is amiss)
“I talk too much,” she said. “I can’t help it and I know the nurses are mad at me.”
“They’re not mad, Mary. They just want what’s best for our families.”
“I know. I try to be quieter, but it’s hard.” She made a face like a little girl and for an instant, I could picture her in the principal’s office, being scolded once again.
“We all have gifts, Mary and yours is your love of life.”
“So, I don’t belong here, then.” She was resigned. I suspected that she knew we were in salvage mode.
“No, but I would like you to consider a different role. One, in which you can be more yourself.”
I told her about the bereavement assignment and let her know that it was equally as important. We chatted for quite some time and I assured her that we were going to work with her and that we wanted her to volunteer.
We’ve been three weeks into Mary’s new role and she is doing well. We are getting positive feedback from our client and that is good. But I’m optimistically cautious. We’ll take it slowly and I think with more time and mentoring, Mary will make a good volunteer.
If not, we can try another redirect.
-Meridian -
First, Do No Harm
A prospective volunteer, Judy came to one of my orientations last month. She eagerly embraced the topics, participated in class and repeatedly told me how much she “owed” us for caring for her husband. She is passionate, ready to work and a strong woman. She and her husband owned a business that she now shares with her children. She has artistic abilities, is educated, well spoken and incredibly smart. She is that volunteer we dream about when we’re not having a nightmare that all the unfinished work has fused together into a giant smiling clown with a pillow and is suffocating us in our sleep. (You do have that dream, too, don’t you?)
I spent a good two hours with her one on one in a private interview a week after classes ended. We talked about her abilities and talents, her ideas and plans to help and all the folks in her business circle she knows that she can enlist to help too. So, what could possibly be wrong with this perfect volunteer?
Did you guess she’s moving? Nope. Did you guess she’s really crazy? Nope again.
Although we spent time talking about all those wonderful things, we spent 90% of the time talking about her husband’s illness and death. He died four years ago and to our credit, we took wonderful care of him. Judy passionately talked about losing a husband so early in life, the shock, the quickness of the rare disease, the legal issues surrounding a business and a lone position in life with friends encouraging “getting back in the dating game.” She had already started a support group on Facebook, has reached out to the community for research funds and would love to be able to help other young widows. Her ideas are lofty, her desire to help of the highest noble thoughts. Her energy is infectious and I wanted to reach into my drawer and pull out my checkbook.
Our conversation reminded me of John Walsh, the host of the TV show, “America’s Most Wanted.” Mr. Walsh began his crusade after his son, Adam was brutally murdered. It’s what experts call instrumental grieving, the throwing of oneself into a cause. It’s truly amazing to watch someone do that, to see their resolve, to feel their calling. These people are remarkable. They turn despair and tragedy into benefits for the rest of us. I know if my husband were to fall ill to that disease that took Judy’s husband, I would want her coaching me.
But, I cannot, in good conscience, put Judy with patients, family members or the bereaved. It matters not that she really, really, really wants to help. It matters not that she is full of passion and energy. But it does matter that in the three times we’ve talked, everything always comes back to her experience.
I’ve witnessed raw, unrelenting grief before. I’ve seen potential volunteers so fired up that they speak in a machine gun volley that shoots down every thought that does not apply to their situation. I’ve watched eager people grasp onto volunteering like a life-preserver in a sea of molten pain. I feel for them, because, just like every other volunteer, I get to know them and to know these volunteers is to know heartache. I so want to help them work through their grief, but my first loyalty is to the clients at hand. And they need volunteers who are sound, mostly healed, or at least healed enough to put aside their own lives.
And so, as the conversation wound down, Judy looked at me and breathlessly asked, “do you think I can do this?”
“Not yet,” I answered truthfully. See, I’ve learned over the course of so many years that it’s much kinder to be honest. Then I added, “I’m thinking that you will be wonderful with our patients and families one day and we are incredibly fortunate to have you. Right now, I hear some hurt and we don’t want this work to add to your hurt. You’ve been through so much.”
“I know. It still hurts and I trust your judgement.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I just need to help.” I could see the dam about to break but she quickly stuck another emotional patch on the crack that threatened to burst.
What a burden to trust me, I thought selfishly. I’m fallible, running on instinct and gut. I want to be wrong about you, to just let you come in and get whole again.
Here’s where volunteer management is on a whole other level from standard HR. Just like HR, we have jobs to fill and we head hunt for the best people for the job. But we don’t reject people. We don’t pick and choose. We try to find a place for everyone, and it takes hard work to find places for everyone. I will find a place for Judy. We will start small and away from the clients. I want to see her succeed as a volunteer and to mend her deep wounds. It will take time, observation, mentoring and caution. That’s what I signed up to do.
But first, I will do no harm, not to Judy and not to our clients.
-Meridian -
There are No “No-Brainers”
David is a social worker and part-time volunteer coordinator for a small hospice. He coaches and encourages about 20 volunteers while providing psychosocial services for 40 nursing home patients. He jokes that he’s perfect for the volunteer manager position because “I just can’t stop offering to do things.” He has been mentoring volunteers for almost a year now and enjoys that aspect of his job. “I feel like I can really place volunteers with a patient, because I have first hand knowledge of what that patient is about. I can really connect with the volunteers too, because we both see the same people. I feel like it’s a win-win.”
A few months ago, David was approached by a lady, Ruth, who owns Jingle, a therapy dog. Jingle is a mixed breed rescued dog and the story of how Ruth adopted him during a Christmas storm touched David’s heart. “It was awesome, and petting Jingle while Ruth told me his story made me realize how much our patients would love having him visit.” Together, David and Ruth came up with a schedule for Jingle to visit patients in a small nursing home that specializes in working with dementia residents.
“Everything seemed fine at first,” David recalls. “I went with Ruth the first time and introduced her to the activities director, Lynn. Lynn was very welcoming and showed Ruth and Jingle the activities room and the nurses’ station. David was secretly thrilled at having introduced some alternative therapies into the volunteer program. “I always felt like if I could just have the time to do the volunteer program some justice, I would have some real neat therapies going on. I realized shortly after I started that volunteer management takes time and real effort. There’s more to it than I ever imagined.”
After several weeks, Ruth started missing her scheduled days. David would call her when he could to check in. She said she had forgotten, or something had come up. “I was starting to get worried,” he said. “I tried to coax the real reason out of her, but she wasn’t forthcoming. I was really confused.”
One day Ruth came into the office and asked to see David. She and Jingle settled into his small space and Ruth offered this explanation. “I think we are going to stop seeing patients for a while,” she said as she stroked Jingle’s head. “It’s just not working out the way I thought it would. The patients who we see, well, I don’t know how to put this, but they really don’t seem to get much out of our visits. They don’t seem very enthused when they see Jingle and well, he’s not excited to go there.”
“Oh,” David said was the best he could muster. “I’m sorry you had that experience.” David said that when he recovered, he offered to send Ruth and Jingle into a different facility. He said he tried very hard to explain that his patients might not outwardly seem engaged, but Ruth was adamant. Ruth left and said she would be in touch in a few months and meanwhile, she was going to continue to visit a Children’s hospital nearby.
David was stunned. “I honestly never in a million years expected that,” he said. “There is no doubt in my mind that the patients got so much from her visits. I just felt so helpless trying to make her see that, but I couldn’t. I really don’t know what I could have done better. It bothers me a lot that I thought this was a no-brainer and it was anything but. Maybe I need to spend more time with new volunteers, but I just can’t.” David paused. “Clearly volunteers are much more complex than I thought. I mean, the ones who were already here and working, I thought everyone new would be just like them, but I was wrong.”
We’ve all experienced the seeming no-brainer. The volunteer who is a veteran will enjoy working exclusively with veterans. The volunteer who had an experience like our clients’ will be perfect working with our clients. The volunteer who needs hours for whatever reason will do what we ask to get those hours. None of these situations are no-brainers because, frankly there are no no-brainers. No volunteer can be pigeon-holed into a role. At least, not for long.
You’ve had volunteers like this: The mother who wants her child to volunteer and thinks he’s the next Einstein. The man who is humble and seems lonely but secretly wants to be a motivational speaker. And the dog owner who looks you in the eye but sorta speaks to you through her dog. Each volunteer is a complex human being with needs and desires. Sometimes they have issues, hang-ups and funny quirks. But, as we place volunteers in positions, we rely more heavily on understanding the motivations and needs of each and every volunteer than our counterparts in the realm of paid employees do. We are literally human resources on steroids.
I can only assure David that we have all been down that road. Why do volunteers stay? Well, I’ve yet to see a chart that explains it, because it’s the individuality of volunteers that we cultivate. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t tenets by which to manage volunteers. There are, but as long as we keep in mind that each new volunteer has their own path, we will be less likely to drop square pegs into round holes.
Now that’s a no-brainer!
-Meridian -
I Wish She Had a Volunteer
A story that is circulating about a terminally ill woman, known as the Layaway Angel, really made me start to think about all the clients we serve.
Layaway AngelAn excerpt from the story reads:
“Everybody wants to go back to school with new clothes,” said Store Manager Joyce Beane. “Now 16 more families can do that.”The families had all fallen behind on their payments.
Enter the Back to School Angel.
“She was here about 15 minutes. She paid off 16 the layaways in cash, about $3,000. Then she said I’m not feeling well I need to leave,” recalled Beane.
My first thought, (as a manager of volunteers) was, wow, I hope she is on hospice and I hope she has a volunteer. It sounded like she entered the store alone and I immediately pictured in my head a smiling volunteer accompanying her, helping her walk up to the counter. I thought about this lady’s last days, maybe sans family and friends and how a caring volunteer could sit with her, reminiscing about her life and doing, well, what a volunteer does best.
I thought about that until I stopped thinking like I had my office phone in one hand and the computer keyboard in another.
It’s ingrained (and I mean cemented!) into our cranium that we “see” the potential for a volunteer. Scrape a knee? A volunteer can bandage that right up. Need some Twinkies? I think a volunteer can run through that Quickie Mart just fine. See, that’s how we view the world. How do our volunteers fit in to help?
But then I don’t know this woman. I don’t know her condition, her life history, her wants, needs, pet peeves or personality. Maybe she wouldn’t want a volunteer. Maybe she’s super independent and wants to be alone. Maybe she’s a person who doesn’t need help. (Whoa, that’s not possible, is it?).
Then I started thinking about all the volunteers who tell me how much they learn from the people they serve. Maybe a patient is using a volunteer, Jose to just sit with him while his wife goes to the store. Jose, who is trying to perfect his English, ends up learning that the patient emigrated from Italy and struggled to learn English, but managed to raise six kids who all became successful. Or Claudia, who while visiting a patient learns that the patient lost a child many years before. And Claudia, who had also lost a child, finds a deep connection with this patient, finding solace in her visits. Or the volunteer, Karen, who was just laid off, volunteers with clients who survived the great depression.
Honestly, who benefits more from the relationships that are formed between volunteer and client? Volunteers always say they get more than they give and they are probably right. Those who volunteer doing the one on one work get hooked and want to do it again and again. It’s an addiction to soul candy. And ironically, the ones who get the most from their volunteering are not the needy ones nor the selfish ones. No, the ones who get the most are the ones who approach it with humility, by putting the focus on the client. The more they do that, the more they reap the rewards. Those who go looking for soul candy are usually so distracted by their own needs they miss the trail of candy bits that leads them to the dish. So, when I look at that story, and think like a volunteer manager, I wish she had a volunteer because I try to imagine the help a volunteer can lend to her journey. I have to admit though, I don’t know what that might be.
But can that Layaway Angel teach a person lucky enough to volunteer for her something profound about life? Hmmm, it sure seems so.
Therefore, I stand by my original wish. I wish she had a volunteer: But maybe someone to teach. I kinda wish it were me.
-Meridian -
Go Ahead, Be Brutal
No, I’m not masochistic. Not even close. My little world is filled with kittens and marshmallows shaped like flowers and moonbeams streaming through the forest. (after all, why else would I be in this job?) But, I also don’t want volunteers to lead me on. You know, tell me that I’m wonderful, that you want to spend time with me, buy me flowers… (oh wait, that’s a different conversation, oops).
But in volunteer management, I court the volunteer, right? I woo them with tales of how wonderful it will be, I walk beside them, listen, adjust, mentor, guide, run interference, and heck, put a bunch of time in, making sure volunteering will work for individual rewards. After all, it’s what volunteers want, right?
So, here, I think is my biggest frustration. I’m thinking of Yancey who had/has such potential. She is young and vibrant and full of compassion. She paid strict attention in training, and bright eyed, couldn’t wait to start. She was mentored by seasoned volunteers, and is truly magical with patients. She writes comprehensive reports. She passed every background test. She is perfect. Well, was. That is, until she just stopped.At first, I assigned Yancey to a volunteer friendly nursing home. Both of the two current volunteers were leaving, but for different reasons. They had built a great relationship with the nursing home staff and together, they introduced Yancey to the patients and the employees. It seemed like a good fit. Yancey was excited. I called her frequently, answered any questions and assumed things were working out.
Two months later, she stopped sending in reports. She did not return my calls, nor did she answer emails. Then an email I sent bounced back at me. Still no word. I checked with the facility and they had not seen her in weeks. I finally, reluctantly removed her name from our list and started searching for another volunteer to take her place.
Was I mad at her for not wanting to volunteer anymore? No. This is, after all, volunteering. Would I judge her for her reason to stop? Absolutely not. If volunteering isn’t adding to someone’s life, they shouldn’t be doing it. Did her stopping ruin my life? C’mon.
But, do I wonder what happened? Would I rather hear the reason even if it means finding out I failed her somehow? Absolutely. How else can I correct a situation or behavior if I don’t know about it? I suspect that Yancey couldn’t fit volunteering into her busy lifestyle, or more accurately, volunteering with those patients wasn’t rewarding enough to fit into her busy lifestyle.I could have told her that this is not my first experience. I’m used to volunteers leaving for so many different reasons. At least for some, I know why. That helps. For others, they float away like an unfinished manuscript dropped in a river. If only….
I may pen her a letter but I truly wish I could have spoken to her and offered her something else or a more flexible schedule. It may have worked. But if not, at least I could have assured her that she was welcome back at any time in the future. I could have told her that she was a good volunteer and that she needn’t be embarrassed about quitting. I suspect that may be the case.
But I don’t know. I wish I did.
-Meridian
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