volunteerplaintalk

Tag: managing volunteers

  • Looking Forward, Thinking Back

    new yearI have spent the last two days of 2013 calling volunteers who are no longer volunteering due to illness, taking care of a relative, moving, surgery, etc. etc. While it’s tempting to play with the shiny new toys, these volunteers are the scuffed skates, the soccer ball you have to pump up regularly and the doll whose hair can never look as good as it did in the box. They are time worn and valuable and connecting with them always makes me feel nostalgic for old times and honestly, sometimes old me.
    The new year is a time to look forward, and oh my goodness, those of us in volunteer management need to look forward just to keep up with all the trends. But if that is all we do, then we lose our roots. We lose what grounds us, what teaches us and what makes us good at what we do. I’ve met many folks who pooh pooh the notion that history is important. They want to just keep moving forward without looking back. I beg to differ. Our history enriches our perspective and lays the path so that we can move forward with knowledge and experience.

    And while I’m making grandiose plans to recruit hundreds of new, perfect volunteers, I sincerely hope that I have the foresight to value those volunteers who have been the pioneers, the ones who have taught me so much. Trends come and go, but the good old fashioned principles of volunteer management never go out of style. Here’s to you, the volunteers who give selflessly and continually. Thank you for a good year. I look forward to your wisdom in the future. Cheers!
    -Meridian

  • My Buy One Get One

    bogoYesterday we did some impromptu volunteer caroling after a holiday party. One volunteer, Clara tagged along and I watched her tentatively sing with the group. I thought she might be, like me, a lousy singer. We did some rousing renditions of “Let It Snow” and “White Christmas” and as we broke up to head home, Clara came up to me and said, “this did me more good than it did patients and families. I haven’t felt like participating in anything relating to Christmas for many years but somehow this felt right. I can’t tell you what a big deal this was for me.” I didn’t ask about her experiences that lead to her reluctance to enjoy the season, but she continued, “I felt like this group understood my emotions, which have always been mixed at best.”
    Clara’s experience was something I did not expect. But then, we get “gifts” like this all the time, those moments when, while trying to do a good deed, we end up with an unexpected side good deed. Now that’s the ultimate buy one get one!
    How satisfying that volunteers not only help our clients, but each other and us as well.
    Have a joyous and meaningful Christmas and a very wonderful new year.
    -Meridian

  • It’s a Wonderful Volunteer Manager Life ( Part 2)

    george in barGeorgia stared at the monitor. “Why is she, I mean why am I crying?” she asked Clarise.
    “My dear,” Clarise clucked, “we’ll come back to that in a moment. Let’s look at what happened because you never had the opportunity to work here.” She pointed at the screen and it changed. An elderly lady had a handkerchief to her eyes, her hair matted to her cheek by tears.
    “That’s Helen Greene! She’s our volunteer Debra’s favorite lady. Debra told me all sorts of stories about Helen Greene.”
    Clarise shook her head. “Miss Helen never got the chance to have Debra as a volunteer. She never had a volunteer at all. She spent most of her time alone and lonely.”
    “What difference did it make that I wasn’t here?” Georgia pleaded. “Debra would have loved Mrs. Greene no matter what!”
    “That’s true my dear, but when Debra came to volunteer, you weren’t here to greet her. You weren’t here to spend that important time with her in the beginning, when she was so unsure of herself. Do you remember that?”
    Georgia thought back to the intense time she spent encouraging Debra. “I do,” she whispered.
    “Debra never did volunteer. All the people she would have helped never had her care. They went without.”
    Clarise pointed at the screen and a face came into focus.
    “That’s Jerry!” Georgia said excitedly. “He’s one of our best volunteers.” Georgia squinted at the images. Jerry was laying in a hospital bed. “What’s wrong with him?”
    “He’s had a heart attack dear. Remember the day you were talking with Jerry and he was having chest pains and you insisted he go to the Emergency room? You accompanied him until his wife could be with him. You weren’t there to help him and he had a major heart attack.”
    Georgia watched as Jerry’s wife came into the room and sat by his bed. She tenderly put a hand on his and laid her head on his arm.
    “Is he going to die?” Georgia asked.
    “I don’t know, my dear.” Clarise patted Georgia’s hand. Georgia’s eyes welled up with tears. “Jerry,” she murmured as the image dissolved into that of a woman staring blankly into space. “That’s Grace Tyne. The lady that suffered so much abuse that Doris is seeing.”
    “Doris is not seeing her,” Clarise said.
    “But Doris broke through to her,” Georgia interjected, “she was the only one who did.”
    “No one broke through to her, Georgia.”
    “But Grace was so hurt, so withdrawn.”
    “She is still. No one has been able to break through to her. You weren’t here to realize that Doris was the one volunteer who had the capability to do so. Doris doesn’t know Grace exists.”
    Georgia covered her face with her hands. Then she looked to see a man sitting in his small room. “Chad?” Georgia barely recognized him. He was disheveled and as he stared at the small television, his hands shook. “What’s happened to Chad?”
    george and mr gower
    “You were not here to see the possibilities in Chad, my dear Georgia. He was laid off and someone advised him to volunteer while he was looking for a job. The temporary person here took one look at his tattoos and dismissed him. He never got that chance to be valued.”
    Clarise stroked Georgia’s hair. She waved her hand over the screen and Georgia peeked to see all the volunteers she had recruited and trained and all the programs she had created from music to crafts to students and everything in between. Slowly the images of clients receiving services reversed and ran backwards and volunteers faded away, leaving clients without the benefit of volunteer help.
    “Isn’t there another volunteer manager that took my place?” Georgia asked.
    “There were many. No one took this position very seriously and they all quit, one after the other. The last person was Dale. He was an elderly man, sick and frail. No one had your passion nor your commitment dear. No one saw what you could see. This program did very little to actually help anyone.”
    The images fluttered and stalled. Then Georgia saw the first image of herself at the cubicle desk. She was crying as she spoke into her cell phone. “I want to try to work it out,” she was saying. “I don’t know if it will work. I know you have given up, but maybe,” her voice caught, “maybe we can try again.”
    george maryClarise looked into Georgia’s alarmed eyes. “You see, my dear, this may be the biggest tragedy of all. You chose to pursue a career that involved money and climbing ahead. Your heart told you to help people but you did not listen. You chose a life without the joy of helping others. You became obsessed with moving ahead. You became unhappy, driven, and you grew apart from your husband. You are successful, but not in the way that fills your soul. You see, dear, you’re in the same spot now, overworked, under appreciated and tired. But all you have to cling to is that next step ahead, that elusive better job. You have numbers and statistics and reports, but really, you’re not a numbers and reports person, are you?”
    “I don’t know what I am,” Georgia sighed. She was unable to look away. She watched as the her image sobbed, alone in an impersonal cubicle. She felt the crushing consequence of living a life that had little meaning. The sadness and desperation of being untrue to herself flooded her being and in that moment, she knew real failure.
    “No!” Georgia cried and buried her head in her hands. “I don’t want that life, I want mine!” She looked up, tears streaming. Clarisse was gone. Her office was just as she had left it the day before, the day she decided to quit. Her old computer, her notes and papers tacked all over the office were there again. She touched the worn spot on her desk and started to laugh. As she hugged her stapler, there was a knock at the door. It opened to reveal one of her volunteers, Julia peering in. At the sight of Georgia simultaneously laughing and crying, Julia asked with concern, “Is everything all right?”
    george gives clarence wingsGeorgia ripped up the resignation letter and dropped the pieces in her wastebasket. “It is now, Julia. It is definitely all right. Now, let’s concentrate on you. What can I do for you?”

    During this season of peace and joy. take care of yourselves and reflect on the ripples you create, the lives you touch and the volunteers who need your guidance.
    -Meridian

  • It’s a Wonderful Volunteer Manager Life (Part 1)

    george bailey Snow was falling in Bedford. Big heavy flakes muffled Georgia’s footsteps as she pulled open the front doors of her organization. Sighing, she entered the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. Clutched in her hand was her resignation letter.
    Heading for the CEO’s office, she ran her fingers over the paintings on the hallway walls. I’m going to miss this place, she thought. And I can’t even think about how much I’m going to miss the volunteers.
    The hallway was deserted. All the better to sneak the resignation under the executive’s door. She could slip it under and then head downstairs to sit at her desk and try to keep up with the overwhelming workload. She paused and thought about some of her favorite volunteers and how she knew she was letting them down. “It would be better for the volunteers if I just quit. I’m tired of trying. I’m not helping them at all,” she mouthed to the empty hall. As she stood staring at the Executive Director’s oak door, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking around, she saw a frail woman dressed in an old fashioned lace dress staring at her from down the hall. For a moment Georgia shivered and then a sense of calm came over her. “Can I help you?” she asked. The woman walked towards her, clear eyes sparkling in a time worn face. “I’m Clarise” she said, “your guardian angel.”george and clarence
    Georgia caught her breath. Was she up here alone with this crazy woman?
    Clarise smiled a smile of the ages. “You’re thinking of quitting, is that correct my dear?” She pointed at the rolled up resignation in Georgia’s hand.
    “How did you know?” Georgia whispered. She clutched the paper to her as her eyes welled up with tears and her frustration spilled over. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this. There’s just so much work, so many requests, and I can’t get to them all. I shouldn’t be here and I never should have started working here in the first place. I’m a failure.”
    “You think that would have been the right choice?” Clarise prodded gently. “I think we should make that happen, yes, I do declare, that is such a good idea,” and she waved her hand. ” There. You don’t work here. You never did.” She touched Georgia’s arm. Her fingers were electric. “Come, my dear, let’s take a walk.”
    In shock, Georgia followed the odd stranger down the hallway towards the elevator. Am I dreaming? she thought. They stepped out of the elevator just as the staff was filtering in for the day. Georgia nodded to the mingling staff members who looked at her with strangers’ eyes. No one said hello. “Come,” Clarise motioned for Georgia to follow. She brought Georgia to her office and opened the door. Georgia gasped at the sight of her bare office. Her computer and phone sat on an empty desk. The walls were devoid of notes, pictures, trinkets and tacked up letters. “Who stole my things?” Georgia cried as she opened drawers and touched empty shelves.
    “You don’t work here, remember?”
    Georgia whirled around. “What did you do?” She crumpled down on the corner of the desk. “Who are you?”
    “I told you, dear. I’m your guardian angel and I’m here to show you what life is like because you do not work here. Do you want to see?”
    Before Georgia could protest, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Georgia called eagerly. The door opened and a tall man with short hair and glasses peered in.
    “Charles!” Georgia exclaimed. “Please, come in. I don’t know what happened here, but this woman,” she pointed at Clarise, “this woman took all my things. And she’s talking crazy talk. I think she cast a spell on me or something.”
    Charles looked nervously from one woman to the other. “How do you know me? And what are you doing in Dale’s office? Do you have no shame? The man died. I was coming down to see if everything had been removed.”
    george at martinis why I outa
    Georgia’s voice trembled, “Charles, don’t you know me?”
    Charles frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you two to leave. I can call security if I need to.”
    Clarise stepped forward and put a hand on Charles’ arm. “That won’t be necessary, Charles. We’ll be out of your way in just a few minutes.” She looked up at him and for a moment he seemed to lapse into a trance. Then he snapped out of it and muttered, “fine, ok, just lock the door when you leave.”
    As Charles left, Clarise turned towards Georgia. “Well, it looks like we have some undisturbed time, dear. Now, let’s you and I look at your life since you don’t work here. Do you want to see?”
    Georgia’s shoulders drooped. “yes,” she said, resigned,”if it will make this nightmare go away.”
    “Good, come sit down.” Clarise patted the desk chair. She turned on the computer. It glowed, flickered and sputtered to life. Images flashed at rapid speed and then as they slowed, Georgia saw glimpses of her childhood, then school, then marriage and the parade of images slowed to show her getting a job in a large office. She saw herself sitting in a cubicle. She was crying.
    (to be continued….)

  • Name That Theme!

    LOLcats
    Ahhh themes. This week I have three themed get togethers for volunteers. Holidays are the easiest themes, because they are well, holidays, so yay, it’s a no brainer. The stores are full of holiday stuff to buy, maybe just pick a color or an elf or cute peppermint candy. “Brain, deactivate, the Dollar Store has it all in control!”
    It’s the rest of the year that gets so hard. There’s the annual luncheon. There’s volunteer appreciation week. And then there are meetings, educational in-services, celebrations, nominations etc. Food becomes second nature. I can whip out a pot of coffee, hot chocolate, and a plate of yummy cookies with my eyes closed and my brain wandering into that little boutique window I saw on the way over. I even have a cute apron that says, (don’t laugh) “I’m serving YOU this time.” Clever, huh?
    But every time there’s an event, it means figuring out what to call it, what to decorate with and what to say that ties it all in together. And what a lovely plethora of themes to choose from. You think LOL Cats is too cute? Let’s just look at some of our more common volunteer themes and the inexpensive ways we can decorate:
    There’s “VOLUNTEERS, THE HEART OF (insert your organization)”. Hearts are great. If you get them after Valentine’s Day, they are really cheap. And we all learned how to cut out hearts in kindergarten, so this is an easy one.
    There’s “VOLUNTEERS, OUR SHINING STARS”. Also a pretty easy one. There’s five-pointed stars to tape to the ceiling or you can staple clip art shooting stars all over the walls. My favorite is using movies stars. If you have a tween daughter, you can borrow posters of Justin Bieber or Katy Perry which costs nothing but then you’re living with an angry adolescent and it might take some bribery to make her happy again.
    There’s “VOLUNTEERS, OUR TREASURES”. I’ve seen some pretty interesting attempts at treasure chests. But this is a good theme if you have a lot of junk, fake jewelry around that you can scatter about the tables. If you’ve made a trip to Mardi Gras and gotten tons of beads for doing things you regretted the next morning, this is the theme for you.
    How about “VOLUNTEERING, A WORK OF HEART”. This clever play on words means you can put up random pictures of art work cut from that $1 art history book bought at a thrift store or you can raid your refrigerator door for some child art. Either way, it’s pretty cheesy so don’t plan on inviting the CEO.
    “VOLUNTEERS ARE THE DIFFERENCE”. Tough one, but you can get free pictures of before and after pictures out of magazines. There’s a lot of before and after pictures of face lifts, so you can showcase the incredible results on the walls. If a volunteer should ask why you chose pictures of face lifts, you can slyly say that “Volunteers give us a lift.”
    “VOLUNTEERS, A WORLD OF CARING”. Globes and atlases are fairly expensive so you might need to visit your local chamber for some free maps. That, and you can always swipe your son’s solar system science project for some additional punch.
    “OUR VOLUNTEERS ARE CHAMPIONS”. I love this one. We all have random sports equipment in our closets. Personally, I use my work out equipment. All the brand new tags are still on it.
    So, I was thinking the other day of some easy themes based solely on readily available and easy to get items. Here’s a few I might try.
    “VOLUNTEERS HAVE CARING IN THE BAG”. I have so many of those plastic grocery bags, I thought I could just staple them around the room. I can make a game out of trying to throw wadded paper in the bags to amuse them.
    “VOLUNTEERS, THE BRANCHES ON THE TREE OF CARING”. So, I can go into my yard and clip enough branches from my trees to scatter about the room. I might get scratched by a thorn or two, but at least it’s organic and free. Maybe afterwards I could start a small bonfire and we could roast marshmallows.
    “VOLUNTEERS: THE PAY STINKS BUT YOU GET CUTE LITTLE PARTIES LIKE THIS!” This is where I will use all the left over stuff from all the other cute little parties that I’ve given. Cheap, easy and a good way to clean my back room.
    “VOLUNTEERS: NOTHING CAN DESCRIBE HOW MUCH WE APPRECIATE YOU”. Yes, when all else fails, in keeping with the theme, I will use nothing. No decorations, no cute giveaways, nothing. I will act very avant-garde and when they leave, I will give each volunteer a handful of nothing while declaring “your worth is beyond paltry trinkets!” This probably would be the last time any volunteer comes to a function so I might have to save this one until I’m ready to retire.
    So, please enjoy the upcoming holidays for what they really are: The chance to not have to rack your brain to come up with a clever theme!
    -Meridian

  • Thankful

    thankfulAs we approach Thanksgiving and I still don’t know if I will have the whole day off, thereby enlisting some family members to step up and stuff the turkey, I’m finding myself mentally slowing things down and actually thinking about what it is I’m thankful for.
    When it comes to my job, I’ve mentally deleted all the overwork and minutia and all that is imperfect and really thought about that which I am truly thankful for. Here’s is my list in no particular order.
    I’m thankful that I took a chance twenty years ago and “tried” this job. I’m still trying it on.
    I’m thankful that I’ve gotten to know thousands of people who want to give back. It’s like working in a bubble in some ways but I’ve gotten to see some remarkable people who fill me up with hope.
    I’m thankful that I’ve had a chance be creative, and that since there wasn’t much of handbook on volunteering at my organization when I started, I got the chance to help develop one.
    I’m thankful that volunteers are so open, willing to embrace the mission and that they put their volunteering lives into my hands. That’s a lot of trust. I hope I never lose their faith.
    I’m thankful that thousands of hurting people have been helped by our volunteers. I hope that in some small way, I’ve had a part in that.
    I’m thankful for co-workers who work hard to understand volunteers’ motivations and who ask for volunteer help, not demand it.
    I’m thankful for Shirley, a co-worker who, in the seventeen years I’ve known her, has never said an unkind word about anyone. Her charitable spirit is my goal. I fail miserably every day when I mumble about the injustice of it all, but I want to be more like her.
    I’m thankful for Jerry, my co-worker who I’ve known for nineteen years. He has my back and I have his. We don’t always agree, but we have a deep respect and liking for each other.
    I’m thankful for Pete, our volunteer who was in class ten years ago. When I need some free therapy, I call him up. We spend twenty minutes doing Bob Dylan impressions, imagining a world in which squirrels are smarter than humans, and talking about what life will be like when boomers get into nursing homes. That time talking to him is like a week at a spa.
    I’m thankful for Eva, who started as a volunteer five months after I started. She’s watched my family grow, I’ve watched hers. We are good, good friends. Not the boundary crossing kind, the lifelong kind.
    I’m thankful for all the giggling, lively groups of students. Since my kids are grown, they tend to teach me what youth looks like now. I think the future is in pretty good hands.
    I’m thankful for this evolving media. Before the widespread use of the internet, there was very little information on volunteer management. We all operated in silos so we had to “wing it” most of the time. Now there’s help and support out there if we look.
    I’m thankful that the vast majority of volunteer managers take their profession seriously and that every night they can go home, look themselves in the mirror and be proud of what they’ve done. Sleep well each night because you’ve made more of a difference than you know.
    I’m thankful for Dave, the captain. Even though he can’t volunteer anymore, he always calls me at just the right time to say hi and find out how I am doing. Coincidentally, he called me yesterday.
    I’m thankful for all that I have learned. I never would have had this education in another profession.
    I’m thankful for the nuances of life. If I have taken anything away from this job, it’s that life and people are many faceted, complex and fluid. Surprises always have a lesson tucked in there like fortune cookies.
    I’m thankful for my failures and successes. Both keep me moving.
    I’m thankful that my family understands how being involved in a mission is more than a nine to five job.
    Lastly, I’m thankful for the chance to share.
    Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
    -Meridian

  • The End of the Year Report

    bonding Last week I had the opportunity to shadow one of our volunteers. Leeta, a volunteer who visits nursing homes invited me to follow her around for a morning. I jumped at the chance because Leeta is one of those volunteers who is so quiet and reserved, that when she attended orientation, I sort of dismissed her in my head as not being a “sticker”. You know, those folks who will stick with it. I was wrong, thankfully and she’s been a sticker for eight years now.
    I arrived at the nursing home early and she was already there. Although I had been there many times, I wanted to see the facility through her eyes so she gave me a tour. I have to admit, I had never before noticed the impressive painting of the founder nor the cozy little blue living room off the first corridor. Our first stop was the room of a tiny woman who talked about her years making pasta at her husband’s restaurant. Her deft hands mimicked the motion as she spoke. Leeta smiled knowingly. She had heard the story many times before. We then spent time with a gentleman who set type for the New York Times newspaper. He is 103. He slyly told me he got the news before the world did. Now, that’s impressive.
    Then we came to a lady, Gwen, who was curled up in the hallway in her wheelchair. Under a collection of afghans, the world bustled around her as she sat among hurried staff and visitors on a mission. Though Gwen was deeply asleep, Leeta gently touched her shoulder. There was no response. Leeta whispered “Gwen” but nothing happened. Leeta paused for a second, watching intently then stood upright and I figured we were done. Nothing to see here. But instead, she walked into Gwen’s room and returned with a letter. “This was written by her granddaughter,” Leeta said as she unfolded the well used pages.
    Leeta bent close, her lips nearly caressing Gwen’s wispy hair. “Dear Grandma,” she began, “I love you very much. I was in school yesterday and my teacher told us about..” she continued. My eyes were fixated on Gwen’s face. At first she continued to sleep, but I saw a flicker, then a stir as she took the words in. Her eyes fluttered and then slowly opened at the words, “Mommy says hello too.” She turned, so slowly that time seemed to stand still and she saw Leeta’s face, just inches from her. She blinked and recognized and the most peaceful look came over her that for just an instant, I felt that all was well in the world.
    She drank in Leeta’s voice and kind eyes and the two spirits melded like batter for a decadent chocolate cake. Leeta stroked her hair and cheek and I felt tears spill onto my own.
    No one will ever get to know that powerful moment. No one, but I. And there, in that chaotic hallway, I felt the power of volunteering, the reason volunteers do what they do.
    Intimacy is borne from the establishment of bonds and our volunteers open their souls to that connection. They do it quietly, without thought of praise or recognition. But how we, volunteer managers, would love people to know about those intimate moments. How we’d love our fellow staff members to witness a volunteer’s humble gifts. How we yearn for senior management to be in that moment, to really grasp the nature of volunteering. How we wish prospective volunteers could feel that connection and understand how it would enrich their lives. How we want the public to see these tender moments so that they would stop caring about mindless celebrity sightings and start to embrace volunteerism.
    But therein lies the irony of intimacy. A hundred pair of curious, expectant eyes would shred that blanket of intimacy woven by our volunteers. And so it becomes our duty to recreate, to celebrate in song and tale the forging of spirit to spirit. We use words, images, videos, gestures and heartfelt testimony because we, as observers of volunteers, know their value. The intimacy of volunteering is a story that needs to be told and we continually struggle to find just the right words.
    Our jobs include showing the value of volunteers. Statistics, money saved, papers filed, number of calls made all show value. But what spreadsheet can show those intimate moments that mean everything to the recipient?
    I’ll continue to struggle to showcase the true value of volunteers to my organization because these are the things in this world that are so priceless. I just hope that all organizations, while combing through end of year reports, never lose sight of that which really matters.
    -Meridian

  • Of Course I Remember You, Mr. Uh…

    overloaded truckYes, I can blame getting older or I can blame having too much in my head or I can blame Earth’s shifting magnetic poles. But it doesn’t matter because I have to face the reality. I can’t remember every name, every conversation and frankly, every thing I was supposed to check up on. Gobs of information filter in and then just fall out. Sometimes I feel like an old junk wagon rolling down the road, stuff flying off the top and into the street because it was never properly tied down.
    That’s the nature of volunteer management to me. We are like trucks and we have so much piled in the beds that no matter how we rearrange and organize, we can’t ever quite get it all sorted out unless we stay in our garages. I know when I leave my desk, I have people stop me everywhere to ask a question, tell me an important tidbit, invite me to a meeting, request a favor, pass on a message and so on. When you forget why you left your desk two minutes after leaving it, that’s volunteer management.
    But stubborn pride tells me on many occasion not to let on that I did not remember the fact that you asked me to check on your name badge yesterday or that you introduced me to your grandchild last year when she was visiting. “My, how she’s grown!” And changed a whole bunch, I might add.
    So, here’s a conversation I had recently with a volunteer I haven’t seen for two years.
    “Hi Rita, er, Freda! So nice to see you again! We missed you. Welcome back, its been what, four, no two, yes, right, two years already. My it seems longer! How’s your son, George, oh…, right, Craig and his family? Really, that’s great! And your granddaughter… no grandson, is he good? Doing well in school… no right he’s only three, wow, sure, and your husband Sidney? Oh, Rod, right, how’s Rod? Excellent. Are you feeling better… no wait, no you were not sick, right, you moved, yes, I remember now, was it cold in Canada …no, right, Bermuda. Not cold there, huh, ha ha! Well, we have your job visiting nursing home patients… what’s that, no you never did that right! But you wanted to… no, you wanted to do office work. Well we have many jobs here for you and would love for you to come back. Are you still living on the river…or, yes, the golf course, right, it’s River Crest, no, right Spruce View, nice place, I’ve always loved their clubhouse, they have the restaurant where you cook your own steaks, no, no it’s a breakfast place, right, love it. Well, miss you, you’ve always been a great volunteer and would love you back!”
    Yes, I can’t admit I don’t remember. I do, however remember running into a volunteer one time in the hall when I ventured from my desk and she asked me, “So, did you find anything out regarding our conversation last week?”
    I remember staring at her as if she had landed from Neptune. My brain froze. I thought, did we have a conversation about something? Was I in it? I know that I know you because your face is very familiar, but if my life hung in the balance, I have NO idea what we talked about. So pride of course stepped in and I hedged. “Well, now, I’m glad you brought that up, I was just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I thought about it a lot and was wondering if you thought more about it too. Uh huh, yes, well, since we’ve both been thinking about it, tell me your thoughts on it now.”
    Ok, I got really lucky and her response jogged my memory, or should I say reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out the item underneath the pile. Of course I hadn’t done anything about what we had talked about in the hallway last week. I had forgotten 30 minutes later.
    I can carry a notepad or a smart phone and most of the time I write on my hand. I have post its on my desk, two calendars, and multiple pads and binders of projects in varying stages of design.
    I think of the adage, if we could put a man on the moon…, but that’s not it. If we could design a truck with a huge, huge bed and all these little gnomes inside who would organize things as we drove down the road, then yes, I could get a handle on remembering things.
    Until then, I’ll sneak a peek at your name tag or ask a co-worker to discreetly go up and ask who you are and report back, or cough as I say your name, or hide behind the laxatives at the drugstore to avoid the embarrassment of not knowing you.
    Or maybe I’ll just have to admit I can’t remember. Nah.
    -Meridian

  • The Wound That Does Not Heal

    stomp computerMy friend, Ellie is the sole volunteer coordinator at a large hospital complex. She oversees 500 giving souls who run the gift shop, man the information desks, fill ice water, organize fund-raising events, staff waiting rooms, help cashier at the coffee shop and other as sundry jobs. The hospital auxiliary is the governing body for the volunteers, so Ellie does have help in the form of a volunteer hierarchy. Because she is the only volunteer manager, Ellie has to rely on educating the various hospital departments’ staff on how to work with volunteers. It is exhausting and Ellie tells me that some departments are exemplary at treating volunteers, while others just don’t get it at all.
    She said, “There’s medical records, who sadly use volunteers less and less because of electronic charting. But they still use them. The people in that department really like their volunteers. They know each of their volunteers’ birthdays, and when they are sick or have a family crisis. They treat them as people, not as pieces of equipment. They are a pleasure to work with and I find myself sending them the volunteer’s who are really great.”
    But Ellie has other departments to deal with as well. I talked to her on Friday and she said, “yeah, it happened. One of our really good volunteers, Peg quit. Peg works, or rather worked in accounting. She has mad business skills and is funny and smart. She loves this hospital because we took care of her husband while he was going through chemo. She knows how precise our records need to be and just wanted to help where she could. And,” Ellie’s voice rose, “they keep talking about volunteers with professional experience, so Peg is perfect for them. Or was.”
    Ellie paused. “About a year ago, several accounting managers retired and a whole new group were hired or promoted. They set a different tone, and the first time Peg came to me, I assured her that the new managers were just getting settled in. The second time Peg came, I paid them a courtesy visit. They all looked at me like I had two heads. This happened numerous times and because Peg had a long work history here, I knew it wasn’t her. It was them. They were unclear. They did not have the courtesy to call her if they did not have her work ready. They had their own territorial problems and tried to pull her into arguments.”
    Ellie sighed. “I talked to that department oh, maybe five times in the past year. At first they seemed genuinely willing to try to do better. But then, each time I would go to see them, they grew more and more uninterested. And the trouble is, their manager is a senior manager in the system. I asked my boss about recourse, but he just told me to do the best I can. ”
    I could hear Ellie tapping her pencil in the background. “Peg and I just talked. I offered, no pleaded with her to work in a different department like medical records where they would treat her good. She said no. She said she loved her job and it was just time to go. She said she knew that the people in her department wouldn’t change and she knew I did a great job trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed.
    I stopped begging her. I could see the decision in her eyes. She was ok with quitting. Funny thing is, I’m not. I’m mad, really mad. How dare they treat her like that. Do you think they will ever, and I mean EVER get another volunteer? Not from me, not on my watch.” By this time Ellie was ranting the way she needed to. “Who do they think they are? Volunteers are not equipment you use and throw away! They’re people with skills and feelings and very few needs. Peg didn’t need anyone to fawn over her. She didn’t need tons of attention or praise. She just needed a decent working environment and some basic courtesy.”
    Ellie drew a breath. “I know volunteers leave. They leave because they’re sick or they move or they change jobs or they retire or all kinds of things. But when they quit because of something that could have been fixed, I feel like we failed them. Our hospital failed them and I failed them because I could not fix it. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t quit because of something I did, it matters that she quit because of something I could not do.”
    We talked some more and I pictured Ellie with a wound that would not heal, not properly anyway. I wondered how many wounds she had like that. I know I have several faded scars that have never completely healed on my volunteer manager body. They are mainly from the feelings of failure when a volunteer leaves or is mistreated and there was nothing more I could have done to prevent it.
    I think we all have at least one or two.
    -Meridian

  • Doing the Hard Stuff Because I’m Clearly It

    clear vision I have to fire a volunteer. The first time I had to fire a volunteer was sheer torture. My palms itched so bad and my stomach felt like the volunteer in question had reached in and gleefully begun to twist my insides. How dare she act in a manner that MADE me have to do this? Why couldn’t she be a good little volunteer like all the other good volunteers? Why did she have to go and tell the people at her church about a client’s private financial status?
    Honestly, as a newbie volunteer coordinator, it never occurred to me that firing a volunteer existed. That was bogey man stuff, not reality. My original boss way back in the day never fired a volunteer, so I was left to dive off the cliff without knowing what rocks lie below. And I didn’t know whether to wear a wet suit or armor.
    I have to be honest, it didn’t go well. I babbled something about privacy and confidentiality and threw in a measure of “I’m sure you didn’t mean to say that the client was dirt poor,” but all in all it went horribly. She left, most likely confused, because I told her how wonderful she was, while firing her. Contradictions rained down and I had no umbrella.
    That night I dreamt that she came back, completely unaware that I had dismissed her. I had to fire her all over again. While that did not happen, I could see how it might have, given the fact that I told her she was a great volunteer. (What?)
    The second time I had to fire a volunteer, (which thankfully did not happen until two years later) was in some ways worse than the first. It conjured up memories of the original debacle. Unnerved, I searched for answers. The internet was just starting to yield expert advice and I found some theoretical help there. But I needed personal help. How was I (loveable, kittens and flowers me) going to fire this volunteer?
    I was tasting yesterdays lunch.
    Quite accidentally, if there are accidents, I found myself at a good friend’s house that evening. Her husband, a gentle man in private and a shark in business overhead me discussing my upcoming day of horror. I caught him listening and thought, “oh boy, he’s probably fired hundreds of people and thinks I’m some sort of cry baby.” Instead, he came over, sat down and asked me these pointed questions.
    “Did this volunteer violate your rules more than once?
    “Yes, several times and we’ve given her the chance to correct her behavior.”
    “Do you, personally, think that she needs to be dismissed.”
    I had to think deeply about that, but then I answered, “yes, I do. I don’t believe she is willing to change.”
    “Then,” he looked me straight on and asked, “who is the best person to dismiss her? Who will deliver the message in such a way that she does not feel wrongly accused and who will make her realize that your clients come first while protecting her dignity and self-image?”
    I knew the answer. I had known it all along. I just never had thought of it that way. “I am.” I whispered.
    “And,” he added, “I never fire anyone. I have a conversation with them about how my company and their expectations do not match. I’m clear, don’t get me wrong, but I dismiss them and wish them well. You can point out a person’s good traits but make it clear that there is not a place for them in your organization.”
    With that he went back to his home office.
    My friend smiled. I could see more clearly why she married him in the first place.

    So, how do you do the hard stuff? Because of my friend’s husband, here’s the way I look at it now. If it has to be done then who better to do it than someone who feels some emotion about it; who better to deliver a tough message than someone who doesn’t want to do it? Do I want senior management to dismiss our volunteers? No, not really. It would be easier for me, but in every case, I realize that I’m the right person for the tough job. I will twist it over and over in my head to find the right words. I will have somewhat of an established relationship with the volunteer. I will call upon my years of volunteer involvement and treat this person with respect. I will do it justice, at least to the best of my ability.
    Not every volunteer will work out. Some will not be appropriate on day one.
    I know volunteer coordinators who like to use the “I’ll just not call that volunteer and they’ll get the idea eventually” tactic. But who benefits from that tactic? Only the coordinator who chooses to avoid the situation. Not me now. Let me talk to the volunteer and be clear. Volunteers deserve that and I’ve known volunteers, who after discussing concerns, turn out to be good volunteers. And on the flip side, I’ve had former volunteers call me years later because they were never clearly told that they did not fit in the organization. How cruel is that when you think about it?
    So, as hard as it might be, I’m going to have the conversation. And I’m going to feel the pings in my stomach and not shirk my responsibility. I’m It.
    I will be kind and I will be clear.
    -Meridian