Tag Archives: hospice

Interview With a Volunteer: Ellie Part 2

10 Wednesday May 2017

Posted by in charities, NGO, non-profit, organizations, recruitment, Uncategorized, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer recruitment

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Part two of an interview with Ellie, a volunteer for 18 years with a hospice.

VPT: Let’s look at things in retrospect now. What advice do you have for volunteer managers? How can we keep someone like you?

E: I’d say that having someone a volunteer can count on is important.

VPT: In what way?

E: It’s trust. I trusted my supervisor and he trusted me.

VPT: You moved away. But you stopped volunteering before you moved. Was it because you were contemplating the move?

E: (pauses) No.

VPT: What was it then?

E: Things were changing.

VPT: In what way?

E: Well, my supervisor was taking on more and more work. I began to realize that when I needed support or a chance to talk, I may go to his office and he would not be available or at another location.

VPT: That support was important.

E: Well, yes, because I wanted to make sure that I was doing the right thing. I did not want to do anything wrong.

VPT: And so, you saw change happening.

E: Yes.

VPT: Ok, I am asking you to be honest here. As volunteer managers, we’ve all done this. We sometimes share our frustrations at the amount of extra work with our volunteers, although we don’t mean to do that. Did your supervisor start sharing his frustrations with you?

E: No, not at all. See, the type of relationship I had with my volunteer supervisor was so successful. He didn’t have to say a word to me. I instinctively knew that he was overburdened all on my own.

VPT: Do you think it is harder for new volunteers if they don’t forge that deep relationship with their volunteer manager?

E: I don’t know because I can’t compare it to anything I experienced. I would ask though, are volunteers getting what they need? I know I had it pretty good, and by the same token, I wonder if volunteers who don’t receive the same vote of confidence will stay.

VPT: So when did you decide to stop volunteering?

E: I had this patient, Joy, the sweetest lady you’d ever meet. I would go to her house and take her to do her shopping. We had so much fun together, But one day, I went to her house. I was tired, out of sorts I guess and I felt a bit like I didn’t want to go to the store. Joy said to me, Are you all right? Have I done anything to upset you? Well, I assured Joy that she could never upset me and I apologized over and over. I thought long and hard about that moment.

VPT: And that had something to do with your leaving?

E: I knew then, that I was done. How? It was my attitude and reactions that told me. I knew that it was time. I had nothing more to give. And if I can’t give 100%, then I’m not doing any good for the people I’m supposed to be helping.

VPT: How did that make you feel?

E: (sighs) It made me sad, because it had been such a good ride.

VPT: Eighteen years. That’s a long time. Did you feel any guilt over leaving?

E:  No, no guilt because I gave my all while I was there. It was just time.

VPT: How do you look back on it, now?

E: I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It was enlightening, rewarding, and was almost like a second carer.

VPT: What advice would you give to volunteers?

E: You get out what you put in. And, it is crucial to ask if you have questions and to share problems and experiences with your supervisor.

VPT: Any advice for volunteer managers?

E: Yes. Supervisors need to know that volunteers go through what I went through. They need to realize and look for signs that volunteers are going through a period of ineffectiveness and they need to address that. Nurture the volunteers you have.

VPT: Would you go back now that you’ve had some time off?

E: No. That is in the past now.

VPT: Thank you Ellie, for your honesty, your insights and your incredible volunteering.

E: My pleasure.

-Meridian

 

 

 

 

“It’s Good to Remember, Remember With You”

27 Wednesday Jan 2016

Posted by in bereavement, charities, dementia, NGO, non-profit, organizations, part time volunteer manager, Uncategorized, Volunteer, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer retention, volunteering good for you

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With his permission granted, I want to share a song written several years ago by Michael Becker, a talented singer and songwriter who strove to capture the connections volunteers make with folks suffering from dementia and Alzheimer’s disease. Mike spent many years not only volunteering with people at end of life but also inspiring new volunteers to follow their hearts.  I’ve been humbled witnessing Mike playing his song for patients, caregivers, family members and volunteers who quietly relate to that difficult journey through memory loss. As Mike says, “I’m just grateful to be able to share my experiences through my music.”

Please enjoy

-Meridian

 

 

 

Defining Success

05 Wednesday Aug 2015

Posted by in charities, NGO, non-profit, organizations, part time volunteer manager, Volunteer, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management

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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

Confessions and Connections

01 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by in non-profit, organizations, part time volunteer manager, staff and volunteer relationships, treatment of volunteers, Uncategorized, Volunteer, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer retention

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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

Little Gray Lies

16 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by in non-profit, organizations, part time volunteer manager, recruitment, staff and volunteer relationships, treatment of volunteers, Uncategorized, Volunteer, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer retention

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you cant handle the truth“Ok, lying is bad, we need to be upfront, honest, transparent, blah. blah, blah,” said Jeff as he exhaled. “But sometimes, you just have to bend the truth to protect the volunteer. I found myself having to tell a little white lie not too long ago to a volunteer who did nothing wrong. You see, this volunteer, Hal, is a real stand up type guy. He’s honest, hardworking, well, you know the type, a guy you’d want for a next door neighbor.”
Jeff is a manager of volunteers who deliver meals to home bound seniors in a small rural enclave. “So, this particular client of ours, a lady who is getting other services besides meals delivered, called her social worker and accused Hal of stealing a statue from her hall table. Before I had the chance to question Hal, the social worker went to her house and found the statue, which had somehow found its way to another table. It was case closed. But she didn’t want Hal to come back and honestly, I wasn’t going to let him go back there anyway. So basically, I told Hal that the lady was moving and we had to take her off the route.”
Jeff paused. “I don’t like lying in any form, but why would I tell Hal the truth? For what, it was a mistake, so what could be gained by telling him? Would he not then be leery of all his clients? Would he wonder what accusation could come next? Would his whole experience be tainted?”

The other night, I watched a 1960s comedy in which the main character overheard his doctor on the phone speaking about another patient who was just diagnosed with a terminal illness and of course the main character thought it was him. Part of the misunderstanding came when he overheard his doctor say, “tell him? No, he doesn’t need to know, it will just upset him.” This reminded me of Dr. Eric Cassell, the author of “The Nature of Suffering” who candidly spoke about the days when he was a young doctor and did not tell patients they had cancer. “We didn’t do it because we were liars,” he said. Instead he asserts that they told little white lies to protect the patient from the truth, because the patient would ask what can be done and doctors had nothing to offer.

Noble little white lies: I have told them to volunteers too. Occasionally a family will not want a volunteer to come back. “She talks too much,” or “we just don’t get along,” or “he isn’t the type to enjoy my Dad’s jokes,” are just a few of the really benign reasons a family may not want the volunteer to come back. Did I pass that along to the volunteer? Nope, I like Jeff, shielded the volunteer from the non pleasantries of being dismissed due to a perceived character flaw. One volunteer innocently shared a personal story with a family and they were insulted. Their social worker told me that this family was highly sensitive and assured me that the volunteer did nothing wrong. I told the volunteer that the family found help elsewhere and that we would reassign him to a new family that needed his considerable talents more.

Kind, noble little white lies: In the old days, I, like Dr. Cassell, decided to use a white lie to protect volunteers from anything less than my idea of volunteering, which was unicorns and puppies. There were volunteers who, in my humble opinion, were not right for assignments, like speaking to a group, or representing us at a ceremony. I told myself that by noble lying I was sparring them from the knowledge that I didn’t think they were good enough for the job. But, as these falsehoods started to feel like an oil slick on my tongue, it began to dawn on me. What, really was I doing by telling these kind, noble white lies?

Self-serving, kind, noble white lies: One day, I had to counsel a volunteer on her behavior. This was a volunteer who worked on Sunday in a hospice house. As we all know, weekends are harder to fill than weekdays, so really, weekend volunteers pretty much have to set fire to the joint to get fired. This was not the first time I had heard a complaint about this volunteer’s behavior. I had spoken with her before, using my kind, noble white lie to shield the volunteer from the unpleasant accusations. After all, this volunteer didn’t deserve that, or did she? Ahh, the little annoying voice in my head wanted to know if I was being noble or (horrors) being selfish. Who, me, kind, noble volunteer manager, selfish? Was it really about protecting the volunteer’s feelings or was it more about having to replace this volunteer, a task that would take a lot of hard work? Was my lie so noble, so kind, so pure? (I hate you, little annoying voice.)

Having to do the right thing is never easy. I reached back and straightened my spine and spoke frankly to the volunteer and to my surprise she did not quit. She took the criticisms seriously and promised to curb her brusque nature. But, did she actually change? Yes, not completely and not right away, but the complaints stopped. As I checked in with weekend staff on her progress, I found that she was honestly trying. I added a call to commend her for her efforts and after a time, she and the staff forged their own relationship. It took extra work, but it was the right thing to do, not only for our patients, but for staff and the volunteer as well.

Gray Lies: Do we tell lies to protect the volunteer or to protect us? I think in most cases, it is both. We may have a noble reason to shield volunteers from negativity, but aren’t we also shielding ourselves from the presumptive fallout? Honestly, we are. Are we bad people for doing that? No, we are just human. So why even bother to explore our reasons for these gray lies? Because if we value honesty, then we first and foremost have to be honest with ourselves. Why am I using noble lies? Am I relying on them to minimize conflict so that everything runs smoothly? Is that really my end game or am I just afraid to deal with confrontation and too weary to help fix it?

No Lies: Hmmmm. Will we ever get to this point? We can, if we have the best interests of our clients at heart, and if we truly view our volunteers as adults who can handle the truth. If we want our volunteers to succeed, we have to help them find success by working with them, not around, in back or detached from them. So, the next time I want to shield a volunteer from the truth, I’m going to have to examine if I’m really shielding myself.
-Meridian

Retinal Scan Anyone?

23 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by in non-profit, organizations, part time volunteer manager, prospective volunteer, recruitment, Uncategorized, Volunteer, volunteer background checks, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer retention

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Frankenstein (1931)Background checks. They have become a permanent part of our volunteer manager lives. Now, don’t get me wrong, I see the reasons for doing them, but they are not done by our waving the magic wand. Sometimes they don’t even get done for reasons out of our control after we’ve spent a whole bunch of time trying to set them up. Then the volunteer process drags on. And on and on until we forget we have a prospective volunteer or they give up. That’s frustrating for everyone.
See, I come from the early days, before background checks. (“Want to volunteer, fine, step up. I can’t imagine you have anything to hide.”) It makes me think back to one of the first volunteers I had the pleasure of working with, Joe McDermit. Joe was the kind of guy who did whatever he thought necessary, and he had already been volunteering for years when I came on the scene. Joe taught me (or should I say scared me) about the individuality of volunteers. A couple of weeks after I arrived, one of the staff members pulled me aside and said that she had seen Joe driving our patient down the road. “That wasn’t the problem,” she added, “but Joe’s passenger door was missing.” Well, I thought, isn’t this going to be an interesting job?
To be fair, I also remember the day I was talking to a family member and she asked, “are your volunteers back ground checked?” At that point, we had begun conducting the checks, so I could honestly say yes. That felt pretty good and I realized that we were going in the direction our clients needed us to go in. I’ve been privy to criminal records for a long time and they are interesting to read. There’s history, emotion and back story in every one of those reports. I really hate having to tell someone we can’t take them, but risk management is all about, well, risk. However we feel about it, we have to think in terms of liability. (Did you know that your volunteer was jailed for resisting arrest with violence when she hit that client? Hmmmm, explain that one. But she seemed very nice and sincere doesn’t cut it in a lawsuit.)
Fingerprints are another matter. Someone has to actually capture the volunteers’ fingerprints. Did you know that our fingerprints are hard to record when we get older because our skin is drier? Of course you know that. You’ve had those complaints. What if the person conducting the fingerprinting is not nice to the volunteers? What if the fingerprinting person goes on vacation or is back logged? Then volunteers have to wait and they may lose interest. What if they are afraid of what might show and they bring you “proof” that charges from 1988 were bogus? (Sadly, these things don’t go away willingly, the information sticks around to make a life miserable).
I’m thinking that in the future, we will have to do drug screening too. Will this make it difficult for volunteer managers to recruit folks? Probably. I know a volunteer coordinator whose volunteer mentioned that she smokes marijuana occasionally at home and she does not live in Colorado. What to do with no mandatory drug test? What about background psychological information? How about those folks who have spent time in a rehab, or mental facility or are recovering addicts? Will we be testing or searching for that as well?
So, on that note, I’ve decided that when I retire, I’m going to go into the business. I imagine there’s a ton of money to be made in checking out the backgrounds of volunteers. I’m going to call it VolunCleanse, the all-inclusive volunteer background check. I’m going to buy an old tanning bed and refit it with all the equipment I need to guarantee that pesky potentially lawsuit inducing volunteer is clean. Here’s how I envision working with a potential volunteer:
“Hello, Jake, so you want to volunteer at the library, do you? Well, let’s just see whether or not you can pass this highly sensitive cleansing test. Think you can fool the cleanse o meters? Get into this state of the art deception detecting unit and just try to keep information from me. Muahhaaaahaha!”

So, Jake lays down in the tanning bed and the large lid creaks shut. I throw the switch and tell Jake to place his hands on the crackling lid above, thus capturing his fingerprints.
Needles come from the side and his DNA is extracted while his hair is sucked into a hole in the bed and a few strands are pulled out with follicles intact. Oops! Maybe it was more like a clump, but the bleeding is mopped up with a sponge that serves as a specimen. A retinal scan flashes across his face while truth serum is administered into his mouth as he yells “ow”. As the truth serum takes effect, a monitor shows him Rorschach blots and he is instructed to quickly identify each image. A silky voice intermittently asks, “are you sure you don’t see something sinister from your past?” After the serum has settled, Jake is subjected to a series of questions probing his background. A biometric scanner notes how many sweat beads pop up on Jake’s brow. Then Jake is left to recover while some soothing music is played and he drifts off the sleep for a few minutes. At some point in the future, there will be a memory erasing device to wipe away all the unpleasant thoughts from this assault on human dignity. I’ll be charging big money for this service. After all, good volunteers are clean volunteers.
For now, though, we’ll still try to assess volunteers by our old methods, like interviews, observing, and careful cultivation. But at least we won’t have to worry about their past lives, because risk management is here to help. Always minimize the risk.
I’m forced to think of a conversation I had with a thirty something woman who had a mess on her background check. “How’s a person who has changed her life around supposed to catch a break?” she asked me and I had no answer for her. Inside my head, I pictured Joe McDermit cruising down the road with a client hanging out his door. But, you know, those clients absolutely loved Joe and so did I.
I looked at this young woman and knew that if I took her, I would be violating every liability no-no there was. I also knew that I was a part of the society that wasn’t giving her a second chance. I offered her some volunteer work that didn’t involve patients.
Now, I have no say over background results. They go through a large clearing house where trolls in overcoats throw darts at a board for all I know.
Step into the VolunCleanse machine. It knows all, but doesn’t care.
-Meridian

Oh, What We Don’t Do

16 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by in non-profit, organizations, part time volunteer manager, staff and volunteer relationships, tough jobs, treatment of volunteers, Uncategorized, Volunteer, volunteer appreciation week, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer retention

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mascot Sometimes, don’t you just wake up on an otherwise lovely morning and stare at the universe and ask why?
Last Monday, the start of volunteer appreciation week, I woke up with a cold. Not just a sniffle mind you, a full-blown, sore throat, low-grade fever, laryngitis cold. Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. So, what does a volunteer manager do when faced with issues that keep good people home? Yep, we walk it off and go to work. After all, the volunteers are counting on us, and we feel this deep responsibility to our organizations, our volunteers and our work. Lame, huh?
So, after fistfuls of cold medicine (pinks and whites, no blues, they put you out) I attended all the events planned. In between balloons I sipped cough syrup while greeting volunteers. At night, I went to bed at 8pm (with the kindly help of the blue pills) and hoped the next day would be better. But the human body is a funny thing, it requires rest while healing. And rest is to volunteer appreciation week as dieting is to the doughnut shop.
Now during that week, there’s one big event. It’s a luncheon at a hotel complete with cloth napkins and those huge claustrophobic banquet walls. You would think that a luncheon would be easy, but it’s not. There’s seating and lists of who’s coming and checking people in and parking issues and who’s eating what and special diet requests and greeting and finding their fellow volunteers so they can sit with them and hearing how bad traffic is and listening to ‘how about moving this thing closer to me’ and fussing over emeritus volunteers and making sure the speaker has the proper sound and smoothing over hurt feelings because we don’t have you on the list and admiring new dresses and ties and stopping to answer an inane question by a staff member who is attending (no offense, that’s mean I know, but really guys, can you not help?) and pressing staff members to get in there and mingle for cryin’ out loud, and making sure coffee is served quickly and intervening when the wrong food comes out and well, you know.
So, I have this thing; I guess it’s a reputation or myth or something. But I am the one expected to get the party started if you know what I mean.
Yeah, I’ve dressed up in costumes, done skits, sung (and I can’t sing, not a note), did break dancing and the riverdance, once did an entire improv skit on why Daffy Duck is smarter than Donald Duck, worn outrageous outfits, sat in a lazy boy while in the bed of a pickup truck tossing out flyers, (don’t ask), worn various colored wigs at events, and brought my rubber chicken purse for good measure. You know, you’ve done it too. (fess up). Well, I’ve got the dancing started in lunches past and the volunteers loved it so of course they want to dance this year too. “Oh no, no one else can start the dancing, we want the warm familiar feeling of Meridian starting the dancing.” (now, I’m picturing myself doing this when I’m like 80 and all the millennial volunteers whispering “what the heck, is that woman having a seizure, should we call 911?)
By this time, I’m having a coughing fit, the pills have worn off and my throat feels like the bottom of the pop corn maker at the movies. The trio that is entertaining has been playing soft background music during lunch when I see a volunteer sneak up to the keyboard player and whisper in her ear. The trio immediately launches into the beginnings of Ike and Tina Turner’s “Rollin on the River.” It is a slow, slow industrial build up and everyone is pointing at me. So, what am I, a good volunteer manager supposed to do? I slowly walk onto the floor, taking my rightful place in the universe and begin to sway to the iconic introduction. After a moment, I turn around and look at the keyboard player and playfully ask in a throaty voice, “Is this all you got?” She smiles at me wickedly and returns, “No way, but can you take it?”
“Bring it” I shoot back and turn to the room full of expectant volunteers. (what the heck am I doing, a voice says that sounds oddly like my dear departed mother. I should be home in bed).
There is a pause and then boom, the fast and furious Tina Turner version wafts over me to fill the room. As if a volunteer manager switch has been flipped, my legs are flying and I am whirling around and around on the dance floor. I’m oblivious to the crowd who is yelling. But heck, this is what I am supposed to do. This is what they have come to expect and within 30 seconds, they’ve flooded the dance floor, laughing and pointing at each other. Ah, they are having fun.
Even though my chest hurts and I know I will pay for this tomorrow or probably the rest of the week, I dance on. My uninhibited crazy dancing is more than just a wacko spectacle. It is my signal to them that we’re family, we’re comfortable with each other, that we can be our lunatic selves with each other. It’s also a subtle way to say, “take a chance, don’t be embarrassed, we don’t judge.
So, after volunteer appreciation week, here’s to all of you who work with volunteers, you, who got there at 5am to start decorating, you, who stayed up late making goodie bags, you, who carefully created posters and printed pictures, you, who drove miles to find the right balloons and you, who danced like lunatics.
Here’s to you, who find that this week’s work is bigger than you anticipated and to you, who are sore and maybe just beginning to feel that scratch in your throat. Let’s try to get some rest, and take care of ourselves, at least a bit. Let’s look at our weariness as a badge of courage or conviction or maybe just craziness. And perhaps that extra picture you decided to put on the poster meant everything to that one volunteer.
Then, see, it was all worth it.
-Meridian

The Fabric of Volunteering

12 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by in organizations, part time volunteer manager, staff and volunteer relationships, thankful, Uncategorized, Volunteer, volunteer appreciation week, volunteer coordinator, volunteer management, volunteer retention, volunteering good for you

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weavingSometimes 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

Happy Volunteer Appreciation Week Ben!

18 Wednesday Apr 2012

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It’s volunteer appreciation week and there are all sorts of festivities going on. The volunteers are so gracious about being thanked; it’s a love fest!

There’s a volunteer, Ben whom I just love. He’s an old union steward, grouchy, snarly and full of Ben-isms. Whenever he sees me coming, he screws up his face and asks, “Oh! what brings you down from your lofty office?”

When I answer in my most sweetest voice, “to see you Ben, of course,” he follows up with “probably on your way to another pointless meeting.”

I love sparring with Ben. He comes to do the job, take jabs at me, and then goes home. He’s prompt, hard working and funny as all get out.

Yesterday he made a comment about how easy my job was. “Really?” I said, my inner hackles up. “what makes you think it’s easy?”

“C’mon,” he sneered. “you tell people where to be and then you go have coffee.”

Hmmm, that does sound a bit like my job.

I said, “Ben, how many different managerial styles are there when it comes to volunteers?” I know how much he detests management and mumbo jumbo about styles.

“One. show up!”

“Ok,” I said, ready to play the game. ” how about Jerri? Do I use the same style with Jerri that I use with you?” Jerri is an elderly lady that volunteers at the same time Ben does.

“Well yeah!”

“She wouldn’t come back if I talked to her the way I talk to you.”

He shifted. “Ok, well, that’s just her.”

“Well, what works for her might not work for you, or the next volunteer. We don’t have pay hanging over their heads. We have to actually be engaged with volunteers.”

Ben looked at me hard. I had stopped playing the game in his mind. “I gotta go, my times up.” He went for his jacket. “You go back to your meetings now, don’t let me stop you.”

“I will. And Ben? Happy Volunteer Appreciation Week.”

“Load of crap.” he said as he left.

I love you Ben.

_Meridian

 

Sometimes It’s Not Good

12 Sunday Feb 2012

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I had a lady come in the other day wanting to volunteer. I asked her to sit down and the first thing she said was, “I have to keep busy, I just have to get out and do something.”

Ok, let’s take a deep breath here and find out why you have to get out and keep busy. Our vulnerable patients or clients should not be the steps on which you climb to your happiness. I asked her one question and it was like opening the top of a shaken coke as she told me about her situation and why she so badly needs to join us. It turns out that her husband is in a nursing home, is declining and the staff at the nursing home told her to go volunteer, it would be good for her. (Maybe they are getting weary, I don’t know).

She told me that she was at his side four and five days a week. Based on her experience with her husband, she thought she could do some good for someone in a similar situation. She looked exhausted, emotionally and physically. She appeared fragile, and her emotions welled up during her pitch.

I asked her if she had tried volunteering at something completely different from her situation, trying gently to explain that spending her free time with people who  reminded her of her husband would be burdensome. I asked her about volunteering in schools or with animals.

She said she had tried other volunteering but it wasn’t “it”, didn’t help, and made her feel depressed. Upon further questioning, she said she volunteered with an animal shelter, but her job was to take the puppies to local nursing homes. She also volunteered for meals on wheels, taking meals to elderly shut ins. That made her feel horrible.

I took a chance and asked her if she saw a pattern in her past volunteering and her desire to help critically ill patients. She thought for a moment and said, “yes, I think I see what you mean. I’m doing the things that remind me of my husband’s condition.”

We parted with an invitation to come back sometime in the distant future. If experience serves me correctly, she will probably never come back, or do so many years after her husband dies. I could be way off on this one, but hey, it’s a guess.

It bothers me when people advise others who are going through some rough patches to “keep busy by volunteering” for the organization they are currently being helped by. Well intentioned people need to realize, not only does the person volunteering risk magnifying their situation, but they risk using other clients as cry towels or mood boosters. It’s not fair to anyone in these situations, not even the poor volunteer manager who has to sort it all out and keep real harm from happening.

Yes, volunteering is good for you, but not when it’s only a salve for a wound. The wound needs to heal properly or that volunteer will bleed all over the clients.

-Meridian