volunteerplaintalk

Tag: volunteer coordinator

  • So The Magic Number is Six

    into the sunsetI’ve always wondered if there is a magic formula to plot when volunteers would leave. I don’t mean something sophisticated enough to figure out when they might become ill, or have to move or get a job or take in a relative or anything like that. I’m talking about volunteers who have the opportunity to stay and don’t. I wish there was a handy dandy calculator that would tell me when they need to quit or take a break. Because I think it is true that all good things must come to an end, including wonderful volunteers. The honeymoon is over. The bloom is off the rose. The, well you get the idea. I’m thinking of Carla, who has been with us (me in particular) for six years. She’s tenacious, opinionated, a pitbull, organized, a whirling dervish of activity, a control freak, a friend, a co-conspirator, a great dependable worker. So, what’s the issue? I think we’ve reached her shelf life-that is, with me and my administrative duties anyway. I remember not too long ago how she was so proud of her five year service pin but after we pinned that on her, she started to display a certain bossy attitude. She ran the shop, ruled the roost and put the volunteers to work. It was both a blessing and a curse. She started to get involved in matters she overheard, and started to subtly insert herself into conversations that did not really include her. We talked about her life at home, about her chronically ill sister and how she could not get to see her often. We talked about retirement and aches and pains and about life’s twists and turns. We covered the obvious culprits for changed behavior, but nothing really seemed to be amiss. Yet, there was something restless about Carla. It was as if she was hearing the call of the coyote on the prairie. I wondered if maybe I took her for granted and so I praised her more, paid more attention. Then I wondered if all the praise I heaped on her for getting things organized gave her the impression that I thought she was done. Crazy, huh? And yet, there was that nagging feeling that the cowgirl in the white hat was looking to ride away.

    If you don’t believe me, let me share with you the comments that Carla has made six years ago compared to the comments she is making now.

    Six Years Ago:
    I can’t wait to get in here and help you get organized.
    Now:
    I know you can’t find it, you never can.
    Six Years Ago:
    Can I come in on Thursday to finish?
    Now:
    I’m taking a few weeks off. I need to revitalize.
    Six Years Ago:
    How do you keep such a positive attitude with all you have
    going on?
    Now:
    None of this is funny, you know.
    Six Years Ago:
    I love coming here.
    Now:
    So, what exactly do you have for me to do today?
    Six Years Ago:
    I feel useful, needed.
    Now:
    You need me, you know?
    Six Years Ago:
    Everyone here is so nice.
    Now:
    Everyone here is nuts.
    Six Years Ago:
    My pleasure.
    Now:
    You owe me big time for this one, right?

    See what I mean?
    So, last week she said to me, “I hope you don’t get mad, but I’m thinking about working with Allie in fund-raising. They really need help over there and I think I can help them get organized for the next event. I’ll still come here every other week and see what you have.”
    There you have it. Am I disappointed? Minimally, because I hate dragging things out, even things that have come to their natural end. And I believe we are at Carla’s natural end, with me, at least. I’m glad we have other areas for her to volunteer in, but if we didn’t, she would be gone.
    Do I feel guilty? Not in the least. I know staff members who leave faster than the jack rabbit that saw a dog. Unless we, volunteer managers actually do something to drive a volunteer away, then guilt has no place in our box of emotions. Volunteers too get tired, bored, or feel as though they have done what they’ve set out to do. And so, when volunteers ride into the sunset, having accomplished the very thing they came to do, we should cheer them on. Thanks for your time and service! You really cleaned up Dodge!
    She’ll do a great job over there. I can attest to that. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll ride back in when the wind blows my way. I hope so.
    Until then, anybody seen a cowpoke around looking to spruce things up a bit? I’m in need of one.
    -Meridian

  • Ah Ha!

    enlightenmentCarly is a new activities director at a large nursing home. Her duties also include managing their 20 occasional volunteers. When Carly was hired she received a good amount of training in providing activities. Her training in volunteer management consisted of being handed a list of names and numbers. She recently recounted something she discovered about volunteers over the holidays.
    “We’ve always had people asking to come in when the holidays are near I’m told. They want to volunteer to play music or sing or do something associated with Christmas. It’s the only time they will be with me, but I really don’t mind. All the extra help is appreciated and given the fact that I have to coordinate activities as well as volunteers, I have to admit, it is a win-win for me. I pretty much stay with them while they sing or play, so I don’t have to worry about lengthy background checks for a one time volunteer appearance.
    This past Christmas, I had two ladies who wanted to volunteer and play music for our residents. The first lady, Jewel, played the violin. She called me up one day and told me that she was driving by our nursing home and she wanted to meet me and play the violin for me. She sounded like it was urgent. I happened to have a few minutes free, so I agreed. She came in and told me she was basically still learning the violin but she had been practicing for some time and she played a few songs. It sounded quite nice, so I gave her a time to come back to play the following week. She called me two times before that to explain that her father had died in a nursing home in another state and that this was a tribute to him. She said that she was nervous playing so I politely listened and encouraged her to keep practicing. I felt like I was helping her too.
    The other lady, Melanie, was just visiting relatives for a month or so. She came in and said that she could play the piano fairly well. As it turned out, she is a music teacher with years of experience and skills. She asked me if she would be of help by playing and I told her of course. I set up a time for Melanie to come in and I think it was the day after Jewel was to be here.
    Jewel showed up and I took her down to the meeting room where we had a tree and decorations. I provided hot chocolate and the residents were sitting in their wheelchairs, some with family, some alone. We had cookies and several staff were on hand to help. Jewel brought out her violin and proceeded to tell us about how she began learning, how her father always loved the violin and how she had joined a group that was encouraging her to share her gifts with others. After several minutes, she began to play. I can’t remember what song it was, but she kept starting over. The residents and family members were getting restless and as Jewel started over again, a few residents motioned to our staff to take them out. Jewel did not seem to notice, but slowly, the room emptied. She was fairly oblivious to the audience, but continued to play as best as she could while they filtered out. I finally thanked her and she was giddy with pleasure at having played in front of so many people. I told her I would call her again later in the week.
    Meanwhile, the next day, Melanie arrived and entered the same set up. I think the residents and family were pretty disappointed, because not as many were present. Melanie opened the piano and greeted the audience. She thanked them for allowing her to play for them and asked them if there was anything they wanted to hear. She proceeded to play all the carols and songs they enjoyed. Everyone was singing along and crying and laughing and Melanie kept referring back to them to make sure they were hearing what they wanted to hear. Little by little the room filled up again and everyone clapped long and hard. Melanie thanked us profusely for allowing her the privilege of entertaining us.
    As we were exiting the room, Jewel showed up with her violin. I thought I would play again for a bit, she told me. I thanked Melanie and asked Jewel to accompany me to my office. I told Melanie I would love for her to come back if she was up for it and she agreed. I walked back to my office and closed the door and asked Jewel to sit down. I then told her that we already had someone lined up for today and that she could not just show up and expect to play. She seemed very upset with me. She again talked about her father and her practice and frankly, I’d had enough of her. I excused myself and told her I would be in touch. As she left, I was so shocked at the two different attitudes of these ladies. For one, it was all about her. For the other, it was all about the residents. I’ve not spoken to Jewel since but believe me I call Melanie often and she says she will come in every week until she leaves. If only Jewel were the one leaving and not Melanie, but sometimes, that’s just luck. I was just so shocked at how different the experiences were with these ladies. And it’s not like their talent made the difference, it was… well, it was their perception of their reason to volunteer that made the difference. Who would have known? From this experience, I think I will be just a bit more selective in the future.”
    Ah Ha!
    -Meridian

  • 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 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….)

  • 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

  • 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

  • If It is Too Good to Be True…

    digging for goldCoretta is a striking 85-year-old artist. As she enters a room, images of her as a young, startlingly beautiful woman trail her like ethereal mists. Her blue eyes take one in from a perfect face and I feel like a mouse scrutinized by an eagle. Her husband Glenn, is a commercial artist and they have shown me pictures of his artistic product designs for major companies, most of them from the 1960’s. They shared these pictures to show me they are legitimate. Luckily, they seemed to like me.
    Coretta offered to design a journal for our use. The journals would be given to patients or family members who would like to record their thoughts. The journal would have poetic prompters to help them visualize things to say. Coretta has written short haiku poems to be incorporated into the sides of the pages, giving the journal a professional quality. She and I corroborated often about how to distribute the journal, types of patients and methods of discovering how the journals were utilized.
    As we worked together, Coretta told me in her breathy voice that she had gone to another agency and was initially welcomed with enthusiasm. She was going to paint a flowering vine for their lobby that would be filled with pictures of the clients served. She mused that it would be not only a lovely welcoming addition, but also a therapeutic exercise for the participants. Trouble is, as with many short-staffed, overworked organizations, no one at that agency could take the time to help her get started.
    Frankly, if I let myself say it, I’m also too busy for the fluffy projects. But, there was something about those blue eyes that compelled me to scratch out the time from somewhere. And besides, I have gotten a bit self-serving. I need breaks from all the minutiae that weigh me down. Coretta let me float for just a bit.
    My plan was to ask some very crafty volunteers to put these journals together and to begin by distributing them to select patients. Over the years, I’ve found that asking for permission to do a project takes forever, so by experimenting and proving that a project works, it makes it easier to sell. Anyway, we finalized her designs, complete with a Coretta sketch of a rose adorning the cover.
    She stopped in the other day to talk to me. As we were chatting, she said, “I have been thinking about this whole project. I’m certain that other organizations would like to have it for their clients too, so I think that I would eventually like to market it. That is, after we’ve seen how it is received here and after some modifications.”
    Boom, the eagle swooped in and ate me as I was nibbling some cheese. “Oh, how interesting,” I managed. Now, at that point, my brain started shrieking at me, “What!!!! Are you kidding???” And as I let those initial thoughts burst and flutter like confetti in my mind, I looked back into those blues and said, “Coretta, that is your prerogative. This is your work, your ideas, your poetry and art. You own that.”
    She nodded with an artist’s smile and I continued, “if you want to do that, then we absolutely can’t use it here and stamp our logo on it. It is yours and you are entitled to keep it and protect it. But I cannot in good faith continue with this project.”
    She studied me for a bit and said, “yes, well, I appreciate your honesty.” I could feel her talons caressing me, the me that spent precious time helping her. “I appreciate all your hard work and have thoroughly enjoyed learning about your organization.”
    I didn’t say anything to anyone, especially anyone (well, everyone if you must know) who has been making fun of me for wasting my time with this pompous (their words) lady. Honestly, they wanted nothing to do with her.
    See, here’s where I sometimes get myself into big trouble and then sometimes I uncover a golden volunteer nugget. I have to do more than just get to know people who want to volunteer. I have this weird side that feels like I’m digging for the next great volunteer. I’ll bet you have a side like that too.
    While I’m not sure what will happen, because Coretta may rethink and decide to give her works to us, but really, I doubt that will happen. Did I waste my time with her and did she just want to use me to develop a product to sell? Maybe, but I’m choosing to think not. I’m choosing to think that she had good intentions, at least at the start. And we all know that there are plenty of volunteers with good intentions that don’t continue for some reason. We can only move on.
    So, the question becomes, do we continue to dig, oftentimes alone for those volunteer nuggets even though we occasionally come up empty-handed? Until the day volunteer nuggets rain from the sky, I guess we’ll have to.
    -Meridian

  • The Door Shuts

    132px-Vincent_van_Gogh_-_Worn_Out_(F997)This is a tough story to tell, partly because it’s hard to find those keeper nuggets of truth that help the rest of us navigate our jobs. Sometimes, I think things just are and maybe really these experiences are like everyday life. You can’t predict them and the only way to prevent them is to stop living.
    Cara is a wonderful volunteer coordinator with a big heart as almost all volunteer coordinators are. She’s been doing this for years, has mentored and seen at least a thousand volunteers come and go. She has wisdom and has honed her instincts like a blacksmith with a prized sword.
    Several years ago, Cara met a young woman, Gwen, who showed an interest in volunteering. Gwen was hesitant, but hopeful and Cara encouraged her, letting Gwen take small steps to find her niche. Gwen rapidly blossomed into what Cara describes as “one of the most gifted volunteers I have ever encountered.” Gwen was magic with clients and had a presence that allowed even the most downtrodden individual a voice. Words such as “angel,” “like my own grandchild,” and “my confidante” came floating back on waves of gratitude.
    Cara quietly mentored Gwen, preferring to stand back and let Gwen’s innate ability flourish. As they spent more time together, Cara learned that Gwen had a difficult childhood. She was estranged from her mother and Cara, ever the professional, did not step in to fill those missing shoes. Instead, she listened and encouraged, much the same as she did with all of her volunteers. But this one, this one was like the Derby winning horse in the stable. Gwen was worth the extra effort because the clients deserved the best volunteer help.
    As the years went on, Cara heard more and more about Gwen’s chaotic life outside the organization. She had a family and a job and troubles seemed to swirl around her in a cacophony of drama. But Gwen still had that touch with clients, and although Cara’s radar now went up, she carefully kept watch on Gwen’s volunteering.
    Occasionally, Gwen would drop in and cry for twenty minutes. Illness, fights with her husband, disagreements with her boss, run-ins with parents of her children’s classmates would knock her world out of orbit. Concerned, Cara suggested counseling and one day Gwen came into the office sobbing about her counselor. Cara immediately removed Gwen from any and all volunteering. She told Gwen to please concentrate on herself for a change. What Cara did not say was that she now thought Gwen an inappropriate volunteer.
    Their relationship morphed into Cara’s trying to help Gwen but with none of the volunteering. I asked Cara why she continued with Gwen and she said, “you know, it’s not that easy, just giving up on someone who hasn’t done anything wrong. Clearly she needed help and I had forged a relationship with her. I couldn’t just turn my back on her. And besides, when you see flashes of brilliance in someone, you can’t help but think that they are salvageable.”
    At some point, Gwen became angry with Cara, and stayed away for a bit, but then came back and Cara tried to help again. At this point, it had been two years since Gwen had done any volunteering. The second time Gwen got mad, Cara shut the door and now has no plans to re-open it. “I’m done,” she says. Does she miss the opportunity to help Gwen reclaim greatness? Not as much as you might think. She says, “it was like I could feel the flutter of a page turning. I feel finished, and I’ve done all I can. Besides, I have other volunteers to mentor.”
    I asked Cara if she thought once Gwen got her life under control, would she be able to return? “Honestly, no. I think that was a time in her life when volunteering fit and made sense. It will be impossible to recapture.”
    I’ve always thought that volunteers have a shelf life. Whether illness, moving away, disinterest or inability to function in the best interests of the client are the reasons, it won’t matter. When it’s time for a volunteer to stop, either by our request or theirs, then it’s time.
    Can we compare volunteering to art? I think so. Some genius is tempered with madness. I don’t think it’s a stretch to apply that to our brightest volunteers. I’ve seen them. Brilliant volunteers who paint masterpieces like van Gogh but are burdened with issues that often become too much. It’s sad and we walk a fine line between encouragement and interference. We want not only what’s best for those we serve, but also what’s best for the volunteers. Sometimes, even we can’t make that happen. We can only do the best we can with what we have to work with. And who knows how well service fits within a volunteer’s view of the themselves and the world. We have to be able to let that door shut when volunteering no longer works for the clients and for the volunteers.
    If we can’t, then we’ll go mad.
    -Meridian