volunteerplaintalk

Tag: volunteer manager

  • Inspiration in a Cloud of Dust

    I attended a funeral a few nights back. Volunteer managers do a lot of that. We find time to be involved in a lot of family functions, births, deaths, graduations, citizenship ceremonies, and birthdays.

    I had to drive a good distance to this one. Nothing new, right? It was in the evening. Big deal. Didn’t know anyone there but the bereaved former volunteer. Check. It was important to go. Of course. I didn’t know the person that died. As usual. Was it one more event to wonder whether I had the time to devote? Yes.  And when I pulled into the church’s dirt parking lot, did I wish I had changed my shoes? Naturally.

    As I got out of my car, I fished for my phone which had fallen between the seats. I didn’t see that large truck speeding down the row of parked vehicles. I stood up and closed the door just as that truck kicked up so much dirt and gravel that it literally blanketed me with a gritty cloud of dust. I shook myself like a dog in water and headed for the church, dignity intact.

    Nigel volunteered with us over ten years ago. He had come here from England after the death of his first wife, a young woman whom he had tenderly cared for after eight years of marriage. His life as he knew it had been shattered. He happened to meet another lovely young woman on a holiday in the states and started coming to visit her. They would also take cruises together, or book tours in exotic places just to spend the time with one another. He could come over for short periods of time to be with her, but he could not come here permanently, unless they married.

    While on his first real stay here in the states, he decided to volunteer at hospice while his American girlfriend worked. That’s how I came to know him. Ten years ago, he was a man rejuvenated, a man alive again and he became an absolute favorite of the staff. After his six months here he had to go back. We kept in touch via email. Some years ago, he indicated that the American woman he loved, Kari, had some medical issues. A couple of years ago, he told me that it was cancer. Last year he told me that treatments were increasing. Two months ago, he told me that it was terminal and that he finally received a visa after all these years. He came here to this country to care for his love while she died.

    I listened to him in the church as he stood before a crowd of people who loved Kari. I listened to him speak of her as his love and how she rescued him from the darkest time in his life. I listened to him as he told of how she touched everyone with her smile and wit and love of travel. Not once did he mention the hardships they faced. Not once did he refer to all he did. Not once did he say that twice he spent years of his life in the hardest role there is; caring for someone you love as they die. Not once did he complain except for the void that now existed.

    For my part, my heart broke as I listened to him tell of how he and Kari were finally married just a month before she died.

    Will I complain again when faced with having to do the right thing? Yes, I will. There is only so much time and there are so many volunteers to attend to. Will I always be reminded that the right thing is the hard path for most everyone? No, sometimes that message is clouded. But as the dust settles, my imprint on the world is there. And most of the time, despite all the irritable complaining, I have to get a bit dusty to make an imprint at all.

    -Meridian

  • Vindication! So, why no joy?

    At the last DOVIA (Directors of volunteers in agencies) meeting, one of the volunteer managers, Judy, from another agency grabbed me and whispered, “I’ve got to tell you about Trina!”

    Trina is a volunteer who was let go by our hospice six months ago. She had volunteered with us for six years. Time and time again, we counseled Trina for overstepping boundaries. Time and time again, she would laugh and say, “You caught me!” or “oh, it was just a little misstep.” We would have let her go a long time ago, but she has a good heart and well, sigh, you know.  It finally got too much when she started insulting nursing home staff. It was time.

    She left unhappily and went to another agency. There, she made it clear that our hospice was unfair to her and we were all wrong and incompetent. Judy, the volunteer manager at this new agency was happy to have someone with Trina’s extensive experience. Judy would make comments to me at the DOVIA meetings about how well Trina was doing. I just kept my mouth shut.

    This last time however, Judy took me aside and just shook her head.  It seems Trina had been volunteering with one of their clients. Everything seemed wonderful. Trina reported on time, kept all her appointments and was enthused. However, one day Trina took it upon herself to accompany the client to a doctor’s appointment, where she identified herself as a family friend and not as a volunteer. She proceeded to insert herself into the medical care of this client. It appears that Trina did not agree with some of the decisions her client’s family had made. A big brouhaha ensued and Trina was promptly removed. Judy was devastated and the agency had a PR nightmare on their hands. “I never saw that coming,” Judy lamented.

    How did I feel about that conversation? Ah, sweet vindication for me, right? If I’m truly honest, yes, for a moment, but then it hit me. I did not warn this other agency. Judy also did not ask, nor accept that I might have insight on her potential volunteer. She chose to believe Trina’s claims that my agency was incompetent and I chose to let her find out that Trina was a risky volunteer. In looking back, we both had chips on our shoulders, I think.

    I fear Trina will go on down the road and potentially harm another agency. Will she claim her experience at our hospice and at Judy’s agency? I don’t honestly know, but if she does, I hope that new agency will call for a reference. This time, I will make certain I give them one.

    -Meridian

  • So You Don’t Think You Make A Difference

    On some days, I don’t think it all matters. Granted those are tough days, and on those tough days, the thought of futility can set in. What difference does it really make? The vast majority of difference we make as volunteer managers, we cannot see. That makes it hard. We don’t see the person who, after the phone call telling them that a volunteer will come out and help, cries into their hands with relief. We don’t see the family who gets to make it one more day because we sent a volunteer who we personally trained and mentored correctly.

    So, we have to tuck those times when we do get that glimpse into how we matter away and take them out when times get tough. Then, we need to multiply that nugget by 100 or maybe 1000, because we don’t see our volunteers spreading what they’ve learned from us into the community either.

    Three nights ago I drove to a local shuttle bus depot to pick up my husband after a few days visiting his brother. He had taken the shuttle after flying into our closest airport. I sat in the car and listened to the radio. All of a sudden he came up beside the door and said, “Quick, you have to get out and come with me.” At my alarmed look, he added, “you have to meet someone.”

    Husbands, I thought. I’m in crappy clothes and now I have to meet some guy who probably golfed every golf course on the planet. So I got out and followed my husband to the shuttle bus where a lady came up to me. “This is my wife,” my husband said to her while stepping away to get his luggage.

    She looked at me and smiled. “I’m Sandy Duvall. Does that name ring a bell?”

    Whoa, I thought and my mind started to scroll. “Robert, the actor?” I weekly replied.

    “No,” she said kindly. “Jeremiah.”

    I stared at her face as the confusion dissipated. “No, seriously, you’re Jeremiah’s wife?”

    Sandy had been sitting in the row in front of my husband on the bus. The driver had called out all the last names and when she heard Swift, she wondered. Later during the ride, she happened to hear my husband chatting with the person next to him and heard the word “hospice”. So, she turned and asked him whether his wife worked there and when he said “yes”, she told him a story. He then told her that she would have a chance to meet me when they arrived at the depot.

    Fifteen years ago, Jeremiah Duvall rode his bicycle to our care center. He was only 62 years old and dying of cancer. He wanted to volunteer. He lived in another state with his wife, Sandy and was just going to be in our area for a few months. Sandy worked and could not come with him. He wanted to take the training, do some volunteering and then volunteer at a hospice where he lived. He made no bones about his illness and no bones about not letting it get in the way of helping others. I believed him instantly. Jeremiah was a one-in-a-million. I taught him nothing and he taught me so much. He taught me about grace and courage and living life to its fullest. Sadly, he took training, volunteered a few times and had to return home where he died within a month. To this day, when I see a bicycle parked in front of the care center, I think of him.

    In the middle of all the commotion of the returning travelers, on a warm, dark night, Sandy asked me, “do you remember the letter you wrote me after Jeremiah died?’

    I did and I do. I struggled to write that letter, to let this person whom I had never met know how special her husband was. I almost didn’t send it. I thought it was too much.

    With tears rolling down her face, she said, “I still have it. and I want you to know how much it meant to me. I told him that no hospice would let him volunteer because of his illness, but he insisted. Thank you for taking him. You have no idea what that did for him.”

    No, I didn’t know. But fifteen years later, on a crowded nondescript night, I got a gift. It is the gift of hearing that you have done the right thing and that it mattered. How I treasure that gift. I will take it out and turn it over in my mind when things are hard and I struggle to do the right thing. And I’ll never doubt my husband again.

    You don’t think you make a difference? You do.

    -Meridian

  • Are You Hearing This or Are You Just Listening Impaired?

    On Thursday I was fortunate enough to be in a room with 50 volunteers who were taking part in the National Volunteer Leadership symposium put on by the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization via the web. Throughout the day, these volunteers were attentive, focused and (horrors) POSITIVE. Why, horrors?

    Staff these days are bankrupt of positivity. Everyone is overworked, everyone is stretched too thin, everyone would like to do more on the job, but can’t. It is the grim reality of the hospice industry and most likely of every organization out there. Complaining is the norm. Stress related time off from work is the norm. Passive-aggresive behavior is a coping mechanism. Cynicism rules.

    Our CEO, to his credit, stepped into the room for a short time. He introduced himself to the volunteers and listened as I led a group discussion. And out of the blue, one volunteer commented, “you know, what I take away from this national presentation, is that the volunteer end of our organization is doing everything pretty well.”

    Whoa! Can you say that again? Can we tape you saying that? Another volunteer chimed in (without prompting, I swear), “you guys in the department really do a great job getting us information” to which there were nodded heads all over.

    The volunteers feel good about not only their jobs, but about how we are managing them. The morose feelings of being abused were lacking in this venue. The atmosphere was uplifting and positive and the comments were thoughtful and heartfelt. So, why am I frustrated?

    Did you hear that, Mr. Executive Director? No, did you REALLY hear that? In a lot of ways, managing volunteers is akin to managing staff, although it’s in many ways harder. Instead of paying outside consultants, looking to some mythical “expert” in another state, or creating more focus groups that don’t include volunteers or volunteer managers, how about for once, looking internally at a program that has results? Is this too novel an idea, or is it that, once again, you heard the comments and have mentally patted us on the head?

    Are we professionals who are doing a very difficult job well, or are we just lucky? Is that how our upper management team view us? Why not ask us how we get those results? If you don’t like the answer, fine, but at least be just a teeny bit interested, ok? Maybe there is a nugget of wisdom in how we do what we do.

    Sigh. It’s hard living in a fantasy world, one in which volunteer managers are appreciated. And no, I don’t mean treated as though we are really good at the fluff.
    I mean true respect for the human resources professionals and management experts that we are.

    Oops, I feel that cynicism creeping in. Maybe I’ll go do something passive-aggressive like sticking my head in the next manager’s meeting and saying something like, “oh sorry, I thought I heard cries of help coming from this room, but I guess you don’t want to acknowledge what you have right under your noses.”

    ehhhhhhhh, maybe not.

    -Meridian

  • Do you know your volunteer’s grand dog’s birthday?

    I have a good friend who is a volunteer coordinator. I meet her at the DOVIA meetings in my area and have for quite a number of years. She is a wonderful volunteer manager. Honestly, I was always amazed at how much information she had in her brain about her volunteers and I would feel inadequate when she would tell the group about the touching little extras her volunteers received. During Thanksgiving she gave them crafted (by her) little turkeys with a poem about thankfulness. Over volunteer appreciation week, she took each volunteer’s name and wrote a “wish” for them, taking into account each volunteer’s personal life situation.

    The last time we talked, however, she seemed a bit frazzled. Actually, she was extremely frazzled. One of her volunteers had just come out of the hospital and was having problems with recovery. Another volunteer’s son was in a car accident. Another volunteer’s husband just had surgery. Another volunteer just had to go out of state to see a friend whose daughter gave birth and the baby is in intensive care. Another volunteer, if I remember correctly had just taken in a neighbor whose house burned, but not completely, although the fire department would not let him stay in it because it was inhabitable.  And, she was just invited to a volunteer’s daughter’s dog’s birthday party. And oh, did I mention that the dog had cancer?

    Whoa! My head was spinning. Do I know these things about my volunteers? Yes, for the most part. Have I been invited to their personal events?  All the time. Yesterday, I went to a nursing home to see a volunteer, and then back to our care  center to visit with one of the best volunteers I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.  Another one is battling cancer, but he wants to keep things private. Another one is having problems with his legs and circulation and not able to come in right now, but he has his daughter drive him over and we go out and chat with him in the car. And on and on and on.

    But I sensed with this wonderful volunteer manager a desperation. Keeping up with every volunteer’s personal life is really hard. Where do you draw the line? When do you drive yourself crazy? What is the fine line between healthy involvement and over involved?

    I honestly don’t know. Case by case? Some volunteers need more, some less?
    I know volunteers have quit because they did not get enough from our organization when they felt they needed it. I know that some volunteers feel hurt when we make a fuss over another volunteer even if they don’t express it. I know some volunteer feel so close to us that they become more like friends. While nothing is ever perfect, I do know that volunteer managers try hard to get as close to perfection as possible when working with our volunteers. We nurture, cajole, mentor, protect and care. Sometimes, it can be overwhelming. What do you think?

    -Meridian

  • Would You Place Your Mom in This Situation?

    So, this patient complains a lot. The family is never happy. The Son keeps making veiled threats about his friend, the lawyer. The house is messy and you have to step over quite a bit of “stuff” to get into the house. Outside there are several big dogs in the backyard, and sometimes they come in. The house is located down a gravel road and you have to get out and open a large wooden gate to drive through. The family smokes and oh, there is no air conditioning.

    The funny thing about the above scenario is I have placed volunteers in these types of situatiosn for many years. It was always a badge of courage, a reason to help the toughest cases. Volunteers are troopers.

    But now add to that, and I quote, “this family has a history of violence. The son has been arrested numerous times for drug possession. There is a host of guns in an unlocked cabinet in the home. The spouse is in drug rehab. They really need a volunteer to sit with the patient while the neighbor takes the spouse to court ordered drug rehab.”

    Ahhhhhhhh, ok, let me go down my list of available volunteers and see which one is either a) crazy, b) self-destructive or c) gullible.

    The “good old days” of volunteerism are gone. We buried that model years ago. We now live in a world of risk assessment, liability, changing family dynamics and new volunteers who honestly KNOW all of this.

    Hmmmm, so I say to the person requesting this mythical robot of a volunteer (with a bullet proof vest) “would you be comfortable placing your mother or father in this home?” Of course the answer is “I never thought of it in that way.”

    Yes, well, our volunteers happen to be someone’s mother, father, son, daughter, best friend, what have you. They are actually people, with good hearts, who expect us to place them carefully and wisely. So, next time you forget that, ask yourself if you would like to see your mom get hurt in the home of a stranger. If you are not there to protect her, who will?  Oh, right, the volunteer department will!

    -Meridian

  • A Little Chilly in Here?

    Just an update. The volunteer who left in a snit did come in on Tuesday and not only did not say more than a few words, she left after about 30 minutes saying through clenched teeth, “well, that’s all I have for work today.”

    Sigh. Was I angry, no, frankly I’m fresh out of big emotions. Was I rude to her? No, we know we have to be neutral at all times. She came the day after Monday, a day spent literally sorting out problems and walking the middle road. Bad timing for me, I was exhausted.

    I spoke to her as usual, praised her and thanked her for her work. What I really felt was deep disappointment. Although we are not unrealistic and not Pollyannas, don’t you just wish that volunteers would come for reasons that are helpful and REMAIN for those same reasons. Often we worry so much about volunteers coming for the “right” reasons, that we get blindsided by those who develop other reasons to stay. They disappoint us to the core.

    Even on our worst days physically, spiritually and emotionally, we have to remain upbeat, caring and willing to step outside of ourselves for a great cause we believe in. We sort of expect that from our volunteers and when one we have relied on gets angry with us, that is hurtful. It’s about the mission, don’t ever forget that. Maybe I need to tell her more often how her work is affecting the bottom line. I will do that, but at least next Tuesday, I’ll be prepared. I’ll bring my coat and drink hot chocolate.

    -Meridian

  • Digging the Trench

    There seems to be a general consensus that we should elevate volunteers to that “next level” which is leadership. Now, while I tend to agree that we have great prospects out there, those with skills, training and backgrounds, we also have to temper the leadership with some good old fashioned “grounding”.

    My example?  I have a volunteer who helps me directly. She’s been helping me for four years now, doing a mountain of HR type paperwork in the office. Little by little I turned more and more over to her because she a) wanted it. b) is very organized and c) it needed to be done- the trilogy of a great volunteer fit!

    What I’ve noticed more and more lately is what I call, the “entrenched syndrome.” She’s entrenched and by that I mean, feeling so comfortable, almost job-like that she wants to be privy to conversations that don’t involve her input, wants to run me and my work (that’s not so bad, actually) and wants to lord over other volunteers. Ah, that last one is the tough one.

    She has two set days to come in and do her work, but she chooses to “drop in” on other days when other volunteers come in which makes for chaos. She wants to not only see what they are doing, but instruct them and frankly, be in charge. I’ve gently asked her to remain on her days, but there is always a reason to come in on the non-scheduled day, “I was in the area,” “I wanted to finish that work,” etc.

    She even screens volunteers in her own mind, telling me of the appropriateness of each one who comes through the door. Hmmm, I don’t remember asking her what she thought.  And what she doesn’t remember is that our jobs are to place volunteers, not throw them to the curb if they are wearing the wrong blouse. (Ok, that’s an exaggeration).

    So, last week, I politely reminded her that on the day she’s not scheduled, we really would like her to not come so that the other volunteers had a space to work and so that I could give her the attention she deserved on her days. The cacophony of voices on days when too many volunteers are in is like a hammer to the head, actually.

    Well, she left but in a bit of a snit. I sent her an email again praising her work, telling her how valuable she is and asking her to understand. We’ll see. If I’m being selfish, I really don’t want to train someone new, and I genuinely enjoy her and am so grateful for her contribution. But, she has to bend just a wee bit too.

    So, I’m asking her, please, come out of trench and into the fresh air and light!

    -Meridian

  • The Hard Part

    Just visited a volunteer in the hospital on Friday. This is something we all do routinely; visit in the hospital, attend funerals of spouses, send get well cards and flowers, mourn the passing of relatives and bring casseroles to homes. Our volunteers are more than just unpaid help and the more we nurture them for duty, the more we get personally meshed in their lives. Unless we are stone cold beings, we are affected greatly by the things that befall our charges. They hurt, we feel. And because we have so many more part-time volunteers, we have more human element on our plate than any HR manager. It is our burden to bear.

    This volunteer has inoperable cancer. Now, working for a hospice, this doesn’t come as some huge surprise. He was losing weight. He was worried and scared. He knew before they told him, but being a private, independent person, he kept us at an arm’s length until he was sure. Now, he let us in. He talks about quality of life. He wants to continue to volunteer. His son was touched by how well we knew his Dad, how we had inside jokes with him, how we reminisced over 12 years of service. His Dad is more than the guy who works on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He’s as human to us as a member of our family. And so we prepare ourselves to walk this last journey with him. Tears, loss, and hurt will be our companion. To care is to feel and when you manage volunteers, your feelings are open at all times. We bare ourselves emotionally because we care that these people get something out of their volunteering and so ultimately, we care about them.

    All the encouragement, the jokes, the listening, the training, the feedback, the inquiring, the answering, the building? That was easy.

    Now once again, comes the hard part: The goodbye.

    _Meridian

  • Volunteer Manager=Volunteer!

    Oh, one of my friends, who is a volunteer coordinator went and did it. He offered to “help out” with an event. You know how this goes. Someone from a department calls you and asks for help with something and before the words dry on your lips, you’re in charge. Is there a secret birthmark on our foreheads that magically appears once we become volunteer managers?  Does it say “ask me, I’ll do anything” and is it visible only to everyone else?  It must be, because we are all viewed as gophers, dumping grounds, catch-alls, happy to please everyone minions.

    Maybe the word “manager” in our title is wiped clean by the word “volunteer”. Or maybe everyone thinks we are so accomplished and brilliant and capable that they freely want us to be in charge. Ok, I lost my mind for a moment.

    My friend offered to help out and therein lies his problem. To him, “help out” meant an hour of set up and that would be it. To the other staff member, it meant, “ok, I’ll move on to the next event, because this one is taken care of.” She honestly thought that not only getting all the volunteers, but set-up, take down, coordinating with the facility, procuring the supplies and negotiations with the event planner was part of his “help.”

    When he told me this, I have to admit, I laughed and said, “what were you thinking?” He shook his head and agreed. We’ve both been down this road more times than a Dunkin Donuts coffee run in the morning.

    Eventually, it got straightened out, but not until after much extra work on his part. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter how clear we are with other staff members. They will try and dump their responsibilities on us especially if they feel stretched or stressed. I know a volunteer coordinator who is continually letting others dictate her job. She is miserable and no wonder. She has no time to cultivate volunteers, to creatively grow her program and to actually enjoy her job. Her day consists of cleaning up after everyone. I know I couldn’t do that for long and not end up on the front page of the newspaper for having gone nuts and torching the lobby.

    We have to be our own best friends and allies. While our jobs speak of the possibilities and wonderful work volunteers can do for our organizations, I don’t think it also includes all the “pack mule” stuff our fellow staff expect of us.

    While we continually use the phrases, “I’ve got the perfect volunteer for that job” and “I think we can help you out with that”, we also need to never be afraid to say “No, that’s not part of my job.” If we don’t, we will all end up torching the lobby!

    -Meridian