volunteerplaintalk

Tag: hospice volunteering

  • The Robot Volunteer

    Cleaning-robotIf you’re a sci-fi fan or even just a fan of good old science, you know the advances being made in robotics. From the robot vacuum to the automated assembly line, we are seeing robots take over repetitive jobs. They’re everywhere; their little stiff knees are walking them into all aspects of our lives.
    So, I know you’ve imagined it. I know you’ve thought about it: The day when they create a robot that takes the place of volunteers. Here’s how it goes. You just program in exactly what task you want the Roboteer to perform and voila! The task is completed with no calling in sick, no lengthy vacations, no listening to it talk about it’s Roboteer life, no questions, and no job that you have to re-do.
    You need a Roboteer to mentor a child? Just program it to have a digitally compassionate voice. You need it to help set up an event? Just program it to go all day and never sit down for a glass of water. What about meals on wheels? Well, just program it to not only deliver the meals, but to spend 15 minutes giving the shut-in some socialization. And when the 15 minutes are up? It shuts down on that needy shut-in so that it is never off schedule. What a perfect solution it is. Why not? You wouldn’t have to pay volunteer managers and besides, volunteers are ancillary anyway, right? And they do repetitive jobs, don’t they?
    I’m picturing it right now. Somebody (not me, I’ve been laid off) gets a request for a volunteer to visit a patient in a nursing home. That somebody opens the closet, turns the key on a spiffy metal pal with a name like Compassion Nate 3000, and programs the coordinates in. The eyes open and it hums, “I am ready to serve”. Then it’s off to the nursing home, where it zips into the patient’s room. Our patient, Miss Aida, who has been dozing, wakes to see a metallic face peering down. Miss Aida starts screaming as Compassion Nate grabs her wrist and in a soothing electronic voice says “calm down, I am here to serve you” over and over. The patient continues to scream until one of the nursing home robots, Facility Friend 800 comes in and tries to remove Roboteer Compassion Nate. Nate, being the newer model, pulverizes Facility Friend, turning her into scrap. Miss Aida, now traumatized, is subdued by real humans.
    Well, if it comes to that, I’d like to offer a suggestion. I’d rather they make cyborg volunteers, you know, those creatures that are a combination of robot and human. And for the human parts, I’d like them to clone some of the volunteers I know. So if they can make the Cybunteer, here’s what I want them to do:
    Take a piece of Dottie, who will mentor any new volunteer. She just mentored two yesterday, at different times in different locations. “It’s important.” she says matter of factly.
    Add a piece of Bryan, who will drop everything and make sure a dying veteran gets a visit.
    Throw in a hunk of Jules, who calmly says “don’t worry, I can handle it.”
    Then put in a pinch of Anna, who always asks for detailed instructions, because “I want to do the right thing.”
    Maybe take some of Jerry, who although only 16, says, “I need to give back. I really believe we all should.”
    Oh, and steal some of Glynn who always arrives on time and asks if she can do anything extra.
    But don’t forget Jose, who always fills out his paperwork because “I know this is crucial to your reporting.”
    Top it off with a bit of Cara, who simply glows when she is with patients and families.
    If they can do that, we may have a suitable substitute for our human volunteers. Gone will be the mistakes, the anxiety of learning a volunteer role, the need for reassurance. Gone will be our jobs making sure that it all runs smoothly. Our great grandchildren will ask, “what’s a volunteer coordinator?”
    Ahh, the future. Or maybe, just maybe, volunteering will go the way of kneading pie dough, painting a waterfall on canvas or sewing a quilt. Machines can do those things, but we choose to do them, because they invoke feelings of connection and accomplishment. Which then makes me wonder. Can we separate the task portion of volunteering from the reward portion? Or is volunteering more about breathing in unison with a dying patient to establish that perfect moment of imperfect human connection? I’d like to see Robopanion 200 do that!
    -Meridian

  • Curiosity Does Not Always Kill the Cat

    curiosity-killed-the-cat_o_420039 I’m a curious person. Ok, my family says I’m downright nosey, but I think we volunteer managers have a real natural curious streak in us.

    One of the senior managers who went to a symposium (you know, where the information is so cutting edge), came back with a brilliant idea. (or so the person selling their product said). The idea is to have standard questions when interviewing volunteers. These questions have been thoroughly researched and are guaranteed to give us insight into the volunteers’ unwitting brains.

    Hmmm, I thought. Could this magic solution be the answer? Would it weed out the agenda driven, lawsuit creating nutcase while highlighting the cautious, yet perfect, stay with us forever while working 60 hours per week volunteer?  I thought, “why not”, so I took the questions and tried them out. Here’s how an interview went with a prospective volunteer, Ed:

    Me, smiling:  Why do you feel you would be a good fit for this organization?

    Ed: I want to help.

    Me, reading from the slick page of questions: How would you describe yourself as a volunteer?

    Ed: I’m someone who wants to help.

    Me, straightening my shirt, still reading: Where do you envision yourself as a volunteer in the next, say year?

    Ed: Actually helping people.

    Me, squirming a bit: Have you ever been asked to leave an organization you volunteered for?

    Ed: No.

    Me, squinting at the page: In other volunteer jobs, what would you describe as your biggest accomplishment?

    Ed: I helped a lot of people.

    Me, skipping questions now: What would you do if we did not accept you as a volunteer?

    Ed: I’d be disappointed, because I want to volunteer here, but I’d go somewhere else to help people.

    Me, scanning the page: What interests you about volunteering for our organization?

    Ed: The chance to help someone.

    Me, a bead of sweat forming above my eyebrow: What do you think could possibly make you stop volunteering here?

    Ed: I suppose if I didn’t think I was helping anyone.

    Me, putting the paper and formality aside: Ed, tell me a little about yourself.

    Ed told me about his career path, his years playing college football, his long marriage to his college sweetheart and her untimely death. He told me about his children, his neighborhood, his love of writing and his military service. He told me that his parents raised him to think of others and how they would make him and his brother do volunteer work as teens. Ed talked about his work as a plant supervisor, and how the men and women he managed were his heroes.  He spoke about one man who worked for him, who took in and adopted three disabled children. He wistfully said that he never encountered a happier family. He told me that his father, an immigrant from Poland, grew up dirt poor, but managed to work enough to put both sons through college. He chuckled when talking about how his mother would make pierogis and red cabbage for the retired school teacher down the street so that she would tutor Ed’s brother in math. He said that, now that he was retired, he’d really like to put his time to good use and help people.

    We talked about how he envisioned his volunteer work and funny, it meshed completely with my vision of him as a volunteer. We talked about finding the right spot for him, and I told him that he was exactly the type of person we were looking for. I felt the kind of comfort with Ed that you feel when you open the pages of a favorite novel. Now that the “interview” portion was over,  we talked about his writings and I found out that Ed enjoyed helping people tell their stories. I asked him if he could see himself doing that with our patients and families and he said that he could. Maybe, then, I suggested to him, we have a way to incorporate your interests with your volunteering. He said he would be glad to try. He just really wanted to help.

    I think we both felt a connection, not through measured questions, but through exploration and old-fashioned nosiness. I felt like we were chatting across a garden fence, coffee cups in hand. I think he will be a great volunteer.

    And, oh, I forgot one question from the crafted list: If you had to pick one positive aspect about yourself, what would that be?

    I’ll bet money that Ed would not have answered, “I have many positive aspects and facets and I am a person with rich interests, skills and talents and I genuinely want to help someone else.” So, being the curious type, I answered for him.

    -Meridian

  • Can Justice Truly Prevail?

    scalesLast week I had a phone conversation with the mother of a 16 year old prospective volunteer. It went something like this:

    She: My daughter, Olivia, needs 30 hours by the end of this school year.

    Me: Well, that’s quite a number of hours over the next three weeks. Typically, with student volunteers, we begin with orientation. Our student orientation for this summer is scheduled for the beginning of June. We may have to orient Olivia one on one since she needs hours before orientation starts. Would you be comfortable with that? I may have some time on Friday.

    She: She can’t come in Friday after school, she has cheer-leading. On Wednesdays, she has piano, and she has student government. This weekend we are out-of-town, camping. She can come in Monday at 5pm but I need her to be home by 7.

    Me: Hmmmm, Monday is not good for me, I have an appointment with a group on the other side of town. What does Olivia’s schedule look like for the actual volunteering?

    She: She can work some Saturdays and then I’ll give you a schedule of the few times she can be there after school. She may need to get the volunteering in on Saturdays though, which means 8 or 9 hours there. I’m assuming she can do some homework too.

    Me: We don’t typically have volunteers, especially students, volunteer that many hours at a time. It’s too intense and too much for anyone. (and me too, I thought angrily. I’m not coming in all day Saturday).

    Her: But that is the only way to get her hours in. She can’t come on Sunday and she has activities all week. You need to take her on Saturdays. Or don’t you accommodate volunteers?

    Me: Of course we do, but we also want our volunteers to be placed in situations where they won’t be overwhelmed. We want them to have a meaningful time.

    Her: Sigh. It needs to be on Saturdays.

    Now, if you are yelling at the screen, shouting at me to hang up (which is what I’d be yelling if I were reading this), then let me throw in a tidbit of information. This mother is the wife of a big donor. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Volunteer rules aren’t the same here, are they?

    Somehow, I had to give in and get Olivia her hours.  I know some might say, “heck, sign off on the hours. The kid won’t get anything out of volunteering anyway. Cut your losses!” Nah, can’t do that, somehow that just feels really wrong. And maybe,I reasoned, I could catch up on all the other piles of work on Saturday so I gave in and scheduled her. I got up that morning, a bit irritated, but determined to make the best of it.

    But it did sting that my time and effort and carefully crafted rules regarding volunteering, when weighed against a donation, well, just don’t matter as much.

    Sometimes we are forced to bend our rules because a prospective volunteer is the son of a senior manager, or the wife of a donor, or an attorney or whomever it is the organization does not want to upset. There are volunteers and then there are VOLUNTEERS if you know what I mean. It happens in the workforce too, so I can’t say we’re the only ones in the lopsided scale of the justice basket.

    Didn’t make it feel any better though. But, rules are meant to be broken and so I came into the in-patient unit and mentored Olivia. And guess what? You already know that she was delightful. She apologized for taking up my Saturday. We visited patients and she told me that she wanted to be a pediatrician. At one point, Olivia held a patient’s hand and softly sang in Italian, the patient’s native tongue. The 93 year old former WWII bride from Italy’s face relaxed as the gentle lyrics stroked her soul.

    Well, I could have missed that experience. I went home that afternoon satisfied. We didn’t stay 9 hours, we stayed 5. Olivia made such an impression on the staff that they will mentor her the next two Saturdays so I’m free to go back to my weekdays. Funny, I’m going to miss coming in with her.

    And you know what I learned? The scales of justice balance out because the universe is watching out for us.

    -Meridian

  • Come Here John Deere, I’m Too Busy Hoeing

    john deereSheila is a very enthusiastic volunteer manager I know. She works for a hospice and is always researching new ideas for her volunteers. When she attended a symposium last July, she brought several great ideas back to her organization. One of the ideas involved volunteers phone calling clients. Sheila was thrilled to contribute, to have another wonderful program for her talented volunteers and to help overworked staff. At least that’s what she thought when she offered to start the program.

    Now, six months later, Sheila is struggling. Staff at her organization “forget” to give her the names to call. They make noises about how they are “handling everything”. They brush her off when she asks for lists of clients. She’s tried to tell upper management, but they assure her that everyone is “on board.” Sheila spends a great deal of time chasing staff for the information and then has to send volunteers home early because there isn’t enough for them to do. Sheila is heartsick because she innately knows how much this program can do.

    It’s kinda like a farmer who has acres of fertile soil. One day he wins a John Deere tracker to replace the old back braking hoe he’s been using in the hot sun. The farmer smiles and then goes back to the hoe while the shiny new green tractor sits in the barn. It’s too much trouble to learn how to start it. He’s too busy to figure out how to drive it and besides, he’s used to just hoeing.

    Sheila spends half a day pinpointing the clients that should be called. She searches records, calls staff members and reads through lists. Staff seems perfectly happy turning it all over to her. So, the farmer, when given a tool to improve his life, expects John Deere to show up and run the tractor for him.

    Sometimes staff has no buy in. They can view volunteers as threats, or nuisances, or fluff. They won’t take the time to help a program grow and thrive. What a shame. It is everyone’s job in the organization to integrate volunteers and to enhance the work being done. What galls Sheila is that the phone calling ultimately helps the staff, but they are woefully uninterested. They are stressed and overworked. But what is she?

    She is close to giving up, but the work haunts her. Volunteers tell her how much the clients love the phone calls. Knowing you can do great things and not being able to is soul crushing. But not every organization always sees the benefit of volunteers. Sometimes they give lip service while secretly blocking volunteers’ involvement. How short-sighted they are. In the hands of a capable volunteer manager, volunteers change everything for the better if given the chance. How can we not take this affront personally?

    What does it say about any organization who does not treat volunteers as a valuable resource and lets staff get away with depriving clients of important services? What is the message when they don’t insist on volunteers involvement and just as importantly, what is the message when they don’t include volunteer managers in the planning and execution of services?

    We, volunteer managers are all shiny new John Deere tractors ready to change the face of farm work. How great that farmers can now spend more time on planning and experimentation now that they have a useful tool. But if they let it sit, unused, it will rust away. And they will continue to break their backs hoeing while other farmers reap the rewards.

    Volunteers talk. They talk to their friends and acquaintances. Are they saying, “yes, I signed up to help, but when I got there, no one had anything for me to do. I liked the volunteer coordinator, but she seemed stressed and unable to fix things for me. Such a pity.”

    Eeeck, how tragic. So, as managers of volunteers, we need to find a way to say to our respective organizations, “teach everyone to drive the tractor and let’s get to work providing the very best for those we serve.”

    =Meridian

  • The Virtuoso

    When I was in college, I had a roommate, Marcia, who played the flute in the orchestra. She practiced in our sparse living room while we all studied or made a community meal.

    Marsha loved the arts and would happily discuss Gauguin or my loves, Shakespeare and Wordsworth.  She also delicately sipped snifters of brandy. I pretty much thought Marcia was cultivated and when she set fingers to flute to practice, I let myself be swept up in the gentle notes. After all, I had taken two classes in music appreciation.

    One day, Marcia brought another flutist home. Jen was first chair, we found out later and together they filled the apartment with lilting strains. But when Marcia excused herself to get a drink of water, she left Jen to continue. Jen’s mastery hit me with a lyrical sledgehammer. I was hearing the same notes, but Jen’s were ethereal, haunting, full of the writer’s intent. Wow, I was experiencing pure talent.

    I just finished teaching an orientation class. I’ve done hundreds now and when I first started orienting volunteers, I was convinced that everyone could be taught the finer art of volunteering. With encouragement, I was certain they could all be Mother Teresa.

    I don’t think that anymore, just as I don’t think Marcia, my roommate could ever reach Jen’s level, no matter how much she practiced. As the flute became a magical tool in Jen’s talented hands, so does volunteering become masterful in only the hands of a few. You know them instinctively.

    They have this aura about them, a confident humility about their deep understanding of what needs to be done. Their volunteering fingers run smoothly over each task, producing a fabric of human art. There is a beauty to those moments when volunteer and client connect at a deeper level, and like music, it hangs in the air for a second, while you catch your breath.

    How do they do it? How is it that not everyone can create it and why can’t I find more virtuosos? I suppose it’s the same reason not everyone can be Mozart or Matisse or Pynchon.

    And so, as each class graduates, I am looking at them, wondering who will be the next virtuoso, if there is one in class at all. I’m hoping to come upon a scene in which a new volunteer is weaving a song so beautiful, it takes my breath away.

    I can orient them, lead them, encourage them and support them but I can’t create natural ability. I can only try and find it. And find it I will, because every time I am swept up in that perfect moment, I’m reassured that it is there, and once again I can behold mastery.

    -Meridian

  • The Yin and the Yang

    I’m thinking about a volunteer, Barney who took orientation six months ago. Barney is a retired welder, a Vietnam veteran, a gruff guy who rides his motorcycle everywhere, even in the cold. In orientation he stuck out like a firecracker on a birthday cake. I honestly didn’t think he would do any volunteering. Silly me, I looked at the wrapper of him, not the Pastrami sandwich inside.

    Boy, was I wrong. Barney has turned out to be a “go to” volunteer. He accepts pretty much anything we ask of him, provided he has the time. He quietly takes his assignment with honor, then does it justice. I look at him and think of the archeologist, who spends weeks tirelessly digging, then finds an object covered with aged debris. The object is a find once dusted off and the search was worth it.

    Turns out Barney has a hidden talent that he never mentioned and frankly, I never would have guessed. He can play the harmonica. He started playing for one nursing home patient  and now they all ask for him. His bluesy New Orleans stylings get the fingers tapping, the mouths turned up in smiles, the eyes closed. He transports, soothes and frees. To step into a room filled with Barney’s music is to pierce the intimate bubble.

    I called Barney the other day just to thank him. Words were not coming easy to me. “Hey thanks for playing the harmonica, it’s really cool,” I could say or “Your music is just so inspiring, the patients feel like they’re floating in space.” How lame.

    Since I had nothing profound, I decided to just call and say hi. Barney answered the phone and said, “I’m really glad you called. I’ve been meaning to call you. I just wanted to thank you and everyone else for allowing me to volunteer. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

    Barney went on to hint that he has not had an easy time since Vietnam. He hinted at some periods of darkness and compared his self-image now to light. I never really got to make a phone speech about how much his volunteering means to us. It would have been, well, lame.

    What do we get with volunteers? We get them, the yin and the yang of them. I silently wept for Barney’s past hurts and took comfort in his present. Perhaps when Barney plays his harmonica, our patients feel the complexity of him and they can relate.

    I am so humbled that he has chosen to give with us. I think our patients see the yin and yang of Barney and take comfort in his “realness”. Realness is what they crave, not plastered smiles of a “do-gooder.”

    Is there joy without pain? Are there great volunteers without personal tragedy? Or are great volunteers really human complexities with heart?

    -Meridian

  • Beneath that Iceberg’s Tip is a Whole Lotta Ice

    “Where’s Craig? Where’d he go? What do you mean, he’s not coming in?” Sigh, if you have a moment,  I’ll try to explain it to you.

    Craig is a volunteer who is unique in every way, but good unique. He is dutiful, and soulful and there is just something about him that makes me feel really good. It’s obvious he gets it. I know when he says he’ll be there he will. I know when he strums his guitar by the bedsides of the terminally ill, his raspy voice connects. What a find, I tell myself. How did we get so lucky?

    But, after a short time and a long lasting impression, Craig had to quit. That’s the dangerous tip everyone sees. What lies beneath is a massive cold behemoth of ice that only I know about.  See, Craig lost his job, but that didn’t deter him from volunteering and after all, every unemployed person is eager to volunteer, right?

    But then his wife became ill and she stopped working. They had to move (not far) and Craig sold his car. He’s now an unemployed caregiver without transportation. His bills are not being paid on time. An independent man, Craig is on assistance. His spirit has been crushed. He doesn’t feel like helping someone else when he needs so much help himself and he doesn’t want to hear how good volunteering is for him, nor does he need time away from his problems. He’s broken and he has to fix himself.

    Craig is gone. And my sadness encompasses his problems, his broken spirit and the loss of a great volunteer. I can hope that he will return when things get better but somehow deep in that well worn gut I know that it will be a long, long time. I want everyone to understand his departure and to want to reach out to him, but I see the staff and other volunteers walking by and he asked me to keep all of this private. I will, but I want to TELL everyone. I want someone else to look over the side of the ship and see that destructive iceberg below the water line.

    I see the accusing eyes of the staff when they ask me, “Where’s Craig?” Did you do something to him, they wonder. Why did you fail to keep him?

    No I didn’t do anything and I can’t really tell you why he’s not here except to give you some generic reason. You see, we’re navigating some pretty rough seas and there are plenty of obstacles to volunteering. The water hides them from your view but volunteer managers see them lurking everywhere. And beneath every tiny icy tip is an iceberg.

    -Meridian

  • Uh Oh, The Back of the Head

    Jo is a really generous person and a great volunteer. She lives alone with her dog, Sally (a toy poodle). She is a widow and has children that live in another state. She is full of life and laughs easily. She is a breath of fresh air.

    The other day Jo came in for her weekly volunteer duties. It was after Christmas. Only one family member, her son could make the visit to see her, and he had to go back right away. She said it was really nice to see him. As Jo turned to go, I noticed the back of her head, or her hair to be more specific. It was all matted, like she forgot to comb that part. “No!” my mind shouted, “not Jo!”

    See, that’s my visual cue, my telltale sign, my notice to start watching. Now, it’s possible Jo didn’t get enough sleep or she was just worn out from the holiday or maybe she just forgot. Yeah, that’s what I tell myself with all of them. But then I notice them asking the same question over and over, or the not remembering who works in the office or sometimes a general confusion. The guys might have a spot on a previously immaculate shirt or wear two different socks. These are the warning signs, subtle yet unmistakable.

    They are failing. They, too are only human and capable of getting older. “No! I want them to stay the same!” They are so comfortable, so dependable, so like a warm blanket on a frosty night. I don’t want to replace them with someone new, someone who doesn’t know the job, who doesn’t have the commitment, who doesn’t make me smile. But most of all, I don’t want to see them fail, to be another one who can’t come in anymore and who chalks it up to life, who takes things in stride and honorably slips away. It reminds me of Bobbie who developed ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and kept coming just like my tears.

    “Ouch“. I don’t want to sit at another bedside and pat a hand and talk about how much her volunteer service meant. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to put into words how I felt about each one of them. I kissed Jay on the head and he whispered “I love you.” I held Heloise’s hand and she stroked my cheek. I sat beside Ben and said “hi” and his body stirred. And so many others.

    Did they know they were more than just volunteers? Did they know that they inspired me and made me a better person? I think I’ll not take the chance with Jo and tell her while she is still volunteering. It will humble me and that’s not bad. And although she doesn’t comb the back of her hair, I will continue to cherish her and to be grateful for the opportunity to know her.

    And yes, I will be at her bedside when that time comes. She deserves that and so much more.

    -Meridian

  • When Will I Learn?

    So I have this unwritten rule that I break every so often. The rule is, “make every person who wants to volunteer go through the proper channels.” I always get burned when relaxing that rule and then I promise myself to never break it again.

    Yup, did it recently and here’s what I learned about myself. A just early retired baby boomer, Stephen came in and wanted to explore his options. He volunteers for a gardening club and for a no kill shelter but he wants to volunteer with people too. He has a great deal of time on his hands and wants to put it to good use. (I’m listening, Stephen). We spent a good hour and a half talking about how he needs to do something meaningful with his life. (You’re singing my tune, now).

    Since I did not have any structured orientations coming up in December-holidays I’ve found bring out mainly people who want to volunteer just on Christmas, the rest are pretty busy with their holiday plans, so the next orientation will not be until January. Stephen wanted to start “right away.” Now, these two words normally send red flags, but there was something about Stephen. (I wanted to HELP him-nice of me, huh?).

    I set up a quick one on one training with him and showed him some videos, etc. I made sure to tell him that this was a “special training” and that I “believed in him”. (I’m really full of it, did he really believe that?)

    I made him promise that he would take the full orientation when it was offered and he promised. (I’m really proud of myself by now). I then told him he could shadow another volunteer in a care center so that at least he could “get started”. (what I saint I am).

    Stephen shadowed a really good, seasoned volunteer. I called to see how it was going and talked to him and his mentor. We set up another time to shadow. (see, I follow through well). After the second time, his mentor told me that Stephen seemed very quiet and a bit overwhelmed. (no, that couldn’t happen, could it?) I called Stephen and left a message. The next day, I got an email (email? I thought we were sympatico!) from Stephen that simply stated he did not think this volunteering was a good fit for him. (what! after all I’ve done!)

    I think after a week or so, I will call him and offer the normal path to volunteering. (which I should have done in the first place). And if he refuses, then I will chalk this one up to breaking my own rule. (love it when you get that reinforcement).

    Next time, I will be more careful. (who am I kidding?) No, really, I need to stick to that which I have learned over the years. If volunteering is worth doing, it’s worth doing it correctly. And if managing volunteers is worth doing, it’s worth doing correctly too.

    Man, I’m tough.

    -Meridian

  • Letting it Show

    So, Monday morning at oh, about 8:45, a prospective volunteer, Josh pops into the office. Unfortunately for me, I have an office that is accessible from the street. No receptionist buffer, no long trek to get to me; I’m smack dab in position to be the first breathing being you encounter. Now, this is not just any nutso morning. No, this is the morning after an entire week, including Saturday, all day Sunday and Sunday evening of continuous events culminating in a huge one on Sunday.

    Why would I come into work on Monday after such a week? Smaller events were happening Monday and there was much to still be done. Anyway, there was also a meeting involving volunteers that was to start at 9am and I knew that the volunteers would wander into my office because they had not been informed as to where the meeting was being held.

    So two staff members were in my office while the volunteers poked their heads in, asking questions about the meeting. In the midst of it all, Josh walks in. The staff members finish their conversation and leave. Josh, who I had spent an hour and a half in a walk-in meeting the week prior, asks me, ” I was cleaning out my library at home and wanted to know if you could use some books for the patients to read?”

    Are you kidding me? Do you walk up to a fireman who is unraveling a hose and ask if he likes apple turnovers?

    I let it show. I let all the stress and overwork and bleary eyed tiredness show. In all my years, I’ve not done that but once or twice (ok maybe more, but not a lot) and every time I’ve felt really exposed. No, no, gotta have this cool, collected persona. The volunteers don’t need to see the stress and the work, that’s not their burden. I apologized to Josh and explained that this time was not an ideal time (which is why I explained to him last week that I could not contact him until later this week but he did not listen) Sigh, so I ended up spending another 30 minutes with Josh so that he did not leave with the feeling that he was a pest or a burden.  (Isn’t he though-so far, I mean?)

    Josh is a retired early, very cerebral man with no partner, children or other relatives close by except a mother in a town a few miles away. He told me initially that all the “fun” stuff he was supposed to do in retirement was starting to get old. After an hour or so, he told me that he thought he could really fit in with us and that I used “the type of words that made sense to him”. These words I used were “meaningful experience”, “journey”, “path”, “not just a number”, etc.

    So, Josh is a person who will be a really good volunteer. He just caught me at my worst on Monday. There are people who will, when poking their head into the office, say “oops, I can see you’re really busy” and people who don’t or won’t see it at all. That’s where the stress trap lies.

    Snapping at Josh is just as much about me as it is about cleaning up the relationship with him. I created my own problem by letting stress show. I had to spend another amount of time I honestly wasn’t prepared to spend answering his questions. I will have to call him the end of this week and be prepared to have an action plan with him or he’s gone.Volunteers can give us lip service by saying they understand we are busy, but the truth is, they want our time. And they need our attention.

    Now, the question is, “do we stop recruiting volunteers when we are at our own personal maximum?” No, we don’t, because there is always that perfect shell hidden amongst the broken ones and as we walk the beach, we are trained to look down.

    If Josh is indeed that perfect shell, he will overlook the stress and insanity on Monday. I sincerely hope he will, for our patients’ sake, for his sake, because I know we can work together and he will do great things and ultimately for my sake, because, even though I know I’m human and sooo incredibly capable of failing, I want to think, somewhere, deep, down inside, I’m a fairly good volunteer manager.

    We’ll see. It’s not showing today. A good night’s rest takes care of that. Or maybe, that little voice after a chance encounter with a prospective volunteer jolted me back to reality. Take it easy and try not to let it show.

    -Meridian