volunteerplaintalk

Tag: volunteer retention

  • One Does Not a Plurality Make

    sheepDo you ever catch a staff member lumping all volunteers into a herd, like sheep?
    Richard graduated college with a degree in psychology. He took a job as a volunteer manager for a mid-sized organization that places volunteers in area agencies. Richard has plans to continue his education and will apply to the college of social work in two years. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate being a volunteer trainer and manager. I really do, it’s that I’ve had this long-term plan for quite a while. I hope, as a social worker, that I’ll be able to work closely with volunteers.”
    Richard recounted a team meeting that he attended a few weeks back. “It was one of our mandatory meetings for all staff. The CEO, all the senior managers and all of us workers were there. They had presentations, financial reports, and upcoming events. You know the type, there’s some rah-rah stuff where they tell us we’re the best at what we do, and then there’s problem solving talk about things we can do better.” Richard paused. “I was half paying attention, I gotta admit, then one of the marketers got up and started talking about the need for everyone to be more professional. People were raising their hands, giving advice and testimonials. One of the senior managers stood up and said that the volunteers we train ‘were not acting in a professional manner’. My ears started burning. What? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The volunteers I train were not professional?” Richard’s voice went up an octave. “I mean, she was basically saying I didn’t do my job. I take a great exception to that. And here’s the real kicker; no one disputed her!”
    Richard went on to say, “I mean, here’s a senior manager tearing down the volunteers in front of everyone. She painted a picture that all volunteers are unprofessional which is so far from the truth. It was demoralizing and completely bogus. Just because volunteers are an easy target is no excuse for her to foster that impression.”
    Ahhh, Richard, I’ve been down this road so many times. When people generalize about our volunteers, they do enormous harm. Most staff have very narrow views of volunteering; they know the volunteers in their area and sometimes they only come in contact with one or two volunteers. To broad brush an entire force based on here say or one isolated incident is devastating, insulting and frankly demoralizing. I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve had staff say to me, “the volunteers don’t know what they’re doing”, or “the volunteers aren’t very reliable”. In every case, the staff member heard these claims from another staff member who either exaggerated or recalled an isolated incident.
    So, I have learned to nicely confront the person who has painted the picture that our volunteers are sheep in a herd of incompetence. The outcome has been more awareness of broad statements. The last polite confrontation went something like this:
    Me: Sheila, I just wanted to ask you a question about something Dave told me he heard you say in your meeting yesterday. Dave told me that you said ‘our volunteers don’t even know who our CEO is’. Is that accurate or did he misunderstand?
    Sheila: Oh, well, I, I don’t remember exactly, but I might have said something about a volunteer receptionist not remembering the name of our executive director. It really wasn’t that big a deal.
    Me: No, but I would really like to follow-up with that volunteer so that I can make sure she will have the correct information. We wouldn’t want anyone to be embarrassed. Do you remember who that volunteer was?
    Sheila: Well, no, I mean I was told this by one of my staff, Corella who observed your volunteer forgetting in front of a client.
    Me: That certainly is distressing. May I ask Corella who the volunteer is so that I can give her the correct information?
    Sheila: Well, sure, I guess, but really it’s no big deal.
    Me: Thank you, I will follow-up with Corella. Our volunteers are an asset and we want them to act in a professional manner, and believe me, volunteers want to do a good job.
    Sheila: Ok, fine.
    Me: Can you tell me about all the other instances of volunteers not knowing the CEO’s name?
    Sheila: I, I don’t know of anymore.
    Me: Well, that’s certainly good to hear. Fortunately one incident does not mean the majority of volunteers don’t know the CEO’s name. But if I may, in the future, we would really appreciate your coming to us if you have a concern about one of the volunteers so that we can address it. It’s not helpful to air these concerns in a general meeting because it gives others the impression that we are not doing our jobs and that the volunteers are incompetent which I know you know they are anything but.
    Sheila: All right, I will keep that in mind.
    Me: Thanks again, you’ve always been so supportive of our volunteers and we appreciate your help in making everyone aware of the great work the volunteers do.
    Now if you think I don’t actually use that formal business speak, I most definitely do. In order to make my point, I remove all emotion, and speak in a very formal, direct, businesslike manner. My extreme businesslike attitude subtly points out their unprofessional treatment of our volunteers.
    I’ve done this ever since I became very tired of doing nothing about these blanket statements. Embarrassing a senior manager in a meeting by “correcting” his or her broad statements in front of everyone is often a career killer. But, one on one, we can point out the error and ask for help in recognizing the impact our volunteers make.
    Volunteers are not sheep, or children or just little old ladies with no skills, they’re a microcosm of the best our communities have to offer. Volunteers have earned respect, so let’s help our respective fellow staff members remember that.
    -Meridian

  • The Fabric of Volunteering

    weavingSometimes I think about the complexities of our jobs and am amazed at the interconnectedness with volunteers, clients, pairings and life stories. I don’t know about you, but I think the universe smiles kindly on what we do. Like the time I was asked to find a volunteer who could speak Armenian and the very next phone call I took was from a volunteer who worked mainly in the office but mentioned that she just returned from visiting her family in Armenia and yes, she spoke Armenian. The Universe clearly heard the request, but more often we spend thorough and thoughtful time assigning volunteers as we weave the fabric of human connection. Some fabric is soft and warm, some rough, more nubby with little pills of emotion. Each is a wondrous creation in its own way.
    But we are not creators only, no, we are part of that fabric. Maybe it’s a bit of our blood as we prick our finger with the needle or maybe there’s a strand of our hair that just happened to land ever so slightly into the cloth as it’s woven, but we are in there as well. Because the volunteers and us, well, we are woven together just as surely as they are to our clients.
    Sometimes I look at volunteers, feel the deep connection we have and marvel at how they teach and inspire me and how I hope I’ve given them something in return. I think maybe so. I wonder, as I talk to Betty, whose daughter died ten years ago if she imagines as she speaks to me what a conversation with her daughter would be like had she lived. Am I a substitute daughter? No, but maybe her ability to speak freely to me is a rip in time that mirrors what her conversations would have been like had her daughter survived. (Betty, are you telling me the things you would have shared with your daughter? I kinda hope so, because I feel so connected to you right now)
    As I listen to Ben speak of his battle with alcoholism I hear the regrets, not in words, but in unspoken pauses. Because we believed in him, Ben has flourished, his soothing demeanor forged from pain. He laughs freely, and to him, life’s fabric is whimsical, full of ducks with sunglasses. Fortunately, our patients can lean heavily on him; he’s borne his share of sorrows. I wonder if our relationship as volunteer and volunteer coordinator has a symbolic meaning, where I represent some of those people he disappointed all those years ago and perhaps our patients represent redemption.
    I think of Jolee, who lived with her mother for all of her life and when her mother died, Jolee retreated into a shell. She decided to volunteer and wants to hang around past her appointed time, because as she says, “I just love you guys. I feel so comfortable here.”
    But it’s not always us providing for volunteers. I remember a time when my kids were outgrowing me and I acutely felt the tug of parental letting go. It must have been evident, because one of my favorite volunteers, Paul, sat and had coffee with me one day. He Looked at me for a moment and said, “I want to tell you a story.” He told me about his son, Doug, who back in the early 1970’s, was just evolving into a free spirit. Paul, a decorated WWII fighter pilot, could not understand nor get along with his rebellious son. “It became impossible, the relationship between he, myself and his mother,” he remembered, “and so one day Doug got in my car with his knapsack and I drove him to the edge of the freeway near our house and he got out, not knowing exactly where he was going. As I drove away, I looked in my rear view mirror to see him, thumb out, his long hair whipping in the wind. It was the hardest thing I ever did.” Rugged Paul, misty eyed, smiled. “he went to California, later became a financial analyst and we reconnected. But that day, that day was so hard.”
    He had no idea how much his story enveloped me in a warm blanket of experience where I felt the okayness of being scared. Neither does Myrna know how much she weaves around me with her wicked jokes when things are stressful. She has been in remission for several years and though her cancer is just a conversation away, she always tries to make sure I’m doing ok. I am when she’s around.
    But that’s what fabric does. It blends together so skillfully that only on close inspection can you see the individual threads. I really feel meshed with the volunteers and their lives. And so, in some small way, I feel deeply connected to their work with our patients and families as if a few of my threads add a bit extra depth to their work.
    Together, we, volunteers, those we serve and I are a cozy wool, a cool blend of satin or a breezy colorful cotton, These may be fabrics that exist only in a slice of time, but they have a certain beauty, even if just for a moment.
    -Meridian

  • The Book and Its Misleading Cover

    judge book by cover“Three strikes and you’re out!” That’s my rule and I tell myself all the time, “don’t be a patsy; hold people accountable.” It’s not like I’m a pushover because I’m in the helping business anyway, is it? For cryin out loud, just because someone wants to volunteer, doesn’t mean I have to bend over backwards for them, right?
    Well, ok, there I said it. Sounds good on paper. At least it did until I had a call about two weeks ago from a college student named Justus. He left a garbled message for me about his fraternity doing volunteer work, and so I called him back and left him a super happy sounding reply. “Hi there, this is Meridian and I am so excited and can’t wait for you to volunteer with us!” Ok, no, my return messages don’t really sound like a used car salesman, but sometimes I wonder if there is too much desperation in my voice.
    On my desk I’ve always kept a yellow legal pad that chronicles the phone calls I receive and make. It is full of graffiti from color highlighters, shorthand and initials, like LM for left message, WCB for will call back, MA for made appointment. I can flip back and see anything that has languished a bit by the highlighted portions. When done, I line through them. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s better than all the post it notes I used to have stuck to everything (including my skirt as I walk away).
    For days I went on about my business and then when flipping back over my legal pad, I found Justus’ number with the LM indication. Hmm, he did not call me back so I called him again. This time he picked up and I introduced myself and reminded him that I had left a message. “Oh, right,” he said and hesitated so I added, “You called about volunteering with your fraternity.”
    “Yes, yes,” he said,”I got your information off the internet and would like to talk to you about our group doing some volunteering.”
    “Ok,” I said, “why don’t we meet? I can come up to your school when it is convenient for you.” There, see, I made it easy for him to get involved. I mentally patted myself on the back and recorded our appointment on my calendar. Done, good.
    Our meeting day arrived and I drove up to college and walked to the library where I plunked myself in the first set of easy chairs. I felt ancient, what with all the skinny jeans walking by, but I was “official” so I belonged there, kinda like the mom who polices the slumber party. I looked around at all the students and wafted back to my college days. Library, study, no difference except for all the devices. 9am became 9:15 then 9:30. Hmmm. I pulled out my phone and the slip of paper with Justus’ number on it and texted him. “Am in library, are you here?” At 9:45, I gritted my teeth and left, driving all the way back to the office, thinking of the work that had just piled up because I went on a wild goose chase for some college kid. Drat those irresponsible college types that don’t yet know how unforgiving the real world is!
    The next day I had a message from Justus. “I’m so sorry, something came up, can you call me?” “Grrr,” I sputtered as I dialed his number. He picked up and cavalierly apologized and asked to meet. “Well,” I said, “can you come here?” He agreed that he could make the drive and we set a time, 2:00pm, for that Thursday.
    Thursday at 2:00? You guessed it, no Justus. At 2:30 I got to serious work and forgot that I was stood up again. But he called at about 3 and said that something came up and could he meet me at 4:30 on Friday. 4:30 on a Friday? Oh, this will be a disaster, I told myself. Normally, I leave at 5:00 if I’m lucky and besides, every Friday at 3:00 I just literally lose all capability for rational thought. But, sighing, I agreed, while internally chastising myself for putting up with such youthful irresponsibility.
    Friday was tough, busy, full of problems and issues and at 3:00 exactly, the brain stopped functioning properly. I checked my calendar and groaned. Instead of winding down, I had to gear up for Justus, that is if he actually showed. At 4:20, I walked to the front lobby to see if he was dutifully waiting there, but it was empty. I returned to my desk and finished up. At 4:50, I got a call from the front desk volunteer, Jan. Justus was there to see me. “Thanks, Jan,” I sighed. “Send him back, please,” Since it’s hard to literally kick oneself, I punched myself in the arm for agreeing to the time.
    He came back and I waved to the small conference table near my office. “Nice to meet you ” I said, offered my hand and added, “you’ve got ten minutes.” He looked at me, saw my obvious annoyance and sat down.
    Justus folded his hands and without prompting, began to tell me about his childhood in Africa and his family’s emigration to America when he was twelve. He talked about the expectations his parents placed upon him and their unwavering commitment to serving whatever community they lived in. He explained how, when he was in high school, he started his own food drive to feed local families in need. He said that he was studying sociology and foreign affairs and hoped to be an ambassador some day. He had earned a full ride scholarship to college and was elected the first Junior year president of his fraternity. His tenure, he told me, would be about serving the community. He had three semesters to make it happen. “I want my fraternity brothers to work hard, to sacrifice. to appreciate all they have when others have so little or nothing. I want them to learn what my parents taught me.”
    I looked at the clock. 5:25. I wasn’t interested in going anywhere anymore. I was mesmerized by this young man. (and not in a creepy cougar way, so don’t even go there) At one point, I looked at him and said, “Who are you?” (no, really, I did say that and I got a smile) Clearly, I need to hear more. Mentally I made note that a whole lotta work was coming my way, but hey, how could I pass up this intriguing individual and the fraternity he is guiding?
    We shook hands and agreed that I would come out and talk to his group in two weeks. I’ll show up on time and forget about our shaky start. I’m past that silly book cover and having read chapter one, can’t wait to read more.
    -Meridian

  • The Disaster Clean Up Crew

    clean up crewMeg is a volunteer coordinator for a large health care system that specializes in patient rehabilitation. Her volunteers are involved in several programs, from spiritual care, and palliative listening to working with dementia patients. Meg is the lead volunteer coordinator with twelve years of experience. Recently, the marketing department contacted Meg and told her that they wanted “some volunteers” to be filmed in a short infomercial.
    “They didn’t give me a date nor time and place,” she said. “I emailed them repeatedly for concrete directions, but I never got an answer. Finally, one of the marketing staff. Gwen, came down at 4pm on a Wednesday and said they were ready to shoot Friday at 9am in our location. What do you need? I asked her and she told me they wanted volunteers working with a mock patient in a rehab room.”
    Meg sighed. “Gwen did however ask for our pet therapy volunteer, Sam, who owns Polo, a beautiful golden retriever. Gwen told me she loved that dog and how beautiful the dog would look on camera. So, I spent most of my Thursday pleading with volunteers to come to the shoot.”
    Meg paused. “You know how volunteers are. The don’t want to be on camera. But I got six volunteers, including Sam to agree to come in and be filmed.
    Friday came and I arrived early,” Meg continued. “I had fruit and coffee set up for the volunteers. They began arriving, Sam and Polo, Jerri who does amazing work journal keeping with patients, Clive and Betty, a couple who sing to patients, Jeravani, an international student who is studying physical therapy and Amelia, a volunteer who specializes in art. They were a great mix of volunteers. I gave a lot of thought to how volunteers would present on camera and I have to admit, this was a diverse group of excellent representatives. I was thinking the infomercial might encourage others to volunteer.”
    Meg went on, “9 arrived and we waited and then 9:30 and still we waited. I could see the volunteers checking their watches. They had places to be. At about 10, Gwen found us and said they were ready to start filming. Biting my tongue, I stood up and waved my hand over the group of fantastic volunteers sipping coffee and started to introduce them, but she stopped me and very nonchalantly said that the crew was behind schedule and that there was only time for, as she put it, ‘the dog shot.’”
    I could feel the anger and frustration in Meg’s voice and she went on, “I looked at Gwen, stunned. I motioned for her to join me outside the room, out of earshot of the volunteers. You mean our volunteers came in for nothing? And Gwen basically said, ‘we don’t have time for any extra shots because we already have more than enough. Sorry, just tell them thank you and maybe another time.’”
    Meg snorted an angry laugh. “yeah, I wanted to say, why don’t YOU tell them and why don’t YOU apologize profusely and why don’t YOU waste half a day trying to cajole people for nothing? No, you get to walk away, damage done and think nothing of it.” Meg stopped to take a breath. “It just makes me so angry!”
    Meg recharged. “Then, get this! Sam and Polo? Oh yeah, after I say goodbye and sorry to all the other volunteers, I find Sam and Polo in a mock-up patient room and one of the crew is being filmed holding Polo’s leash! I lost it. I went to Gwen and demanded to know what was going on. She kinda shrugged and said that the film crew set it up that way so for once in my life I stood my ground and said no. I told her that if Sam was not in the shot, then I was going to send them home. I was so mad, I didn’t care.”
    I could feel the anger balloon about to burst. “Gwen intervened though and Sam was filmed with Polo. So, at least I won a minor battle.”
    Then Meg grew philosophical, the way long time volunteer managers grow. “I wish our volunteers were given the same respect as others in our hospital system. No one would waste the CEO’s time. No one would be so cavalier about marketing’s time. But volunteers? They are a commodity. It’s wrong, just wrong. Although, it did feel so good to stand up for Sam. In fact, it felt great.”
    Meg’s voice changed, lifted somehow. “In fact, I think I’ll start doing that more.” The old spark in her voice returned. “Yeah, stand up for what’s right, what do I have to lose? And, maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop being the clean up crew.”
    -Meridian

  • If Volunteering Were an Olympic Sport

    olympicsI arrived in Sochi, Russia, thrilled to be part of the world’s greatest sporting showcase. Stepping out of the cab at the Olympic village, I asked one of the official guides where I could find the volunteer events. He scratched his puzzled head, grunted, “Huh?” and checked his elaborate map. He spent several minutes consulting a static Russian voice on his enormous mobile phone. While he shouted into the contraption, I soaked in the palpable excitement of the noisy Olympic crowd filtering by. I was giddy with anticipation. Finally, the world would see the wonderfulness of our volunteers.
    He got off the phone and showed me his map, drawing an X on an empty white spot. “There, you go there,” he said, then handed me the map and walked away. I followed the map, weaving my way in and out of colorful vendors and beautiful buildings until I was in an open field beyond the bustle of Olympic village. There, in the middle of the snowy field was a small industrial building with a hand-made sign that read, “Volympics”.
    Gleefully, I entered the building. There were maybe a few dozen people scattered about on folding chairs. Family members, no doubt. I nodded to some folks sharing a bag of potato chips as I settled into my seat.
    The first event was the “Booth Freestyle.” Team Major Illness Awareness and Team Animal Rescue had 10 minutes to sort through the enormous pile of random items piled in a corner of the building. The teams had to find a table, table cover and everything necessary to set up a booth showcasing their organization at a fictitious fair. You could feel the tension in the room, or maybe it was the lack of a bathroom nearby. The teams appeared. Team Major Illness Awareness looked nervously at Team Animal Rescue. Each four member team gripped the side rails and waited for the shot signaling the start. They sprinted or walked quickly, really into the arena, attacking the pile like I attack my closet after over sleeping. Finding the items they wanted, each team began to set up an attractive booth. Team Major Illness Awareness settled into making a giant macaroni sign on a poster board, their deft hands glueing the pasta into a giant heart shape. The captain of Team Animal Rescue shouted encouragement as the team stuck animal stickers to the tablecloth while drawing a huge smiling elephant on a white board.
    An element of difficulty was added when several Olympic judges, simulating organizational staff walked by shouting “hurry up” and refusing to answer questions. Team Major Illness Awareness arranged give away pens in the shape of a pancreas while team Animal Rescue created paw prints out of jar grippers. The clock ticked away the time and the crowd shouted “three, two, one” and the buzzer sounded. The judges conferred and awarded points for artistic interpretation as well as speed. It was close but team Animal Rescue pulled it out by putting up a cute picture of their Executive Director being nipped by a rescued chihuahua.
    I pulled out a granola bar while waiting for the next event. Office Downhill was an individual competition involving stuffing envelopes, data entry and filing. Rickety metal cabinets were wheeled into the arena while an old desk, obsolete computer and a mountain of flyers and envelopes on a card table were dragged into a corner. The first competitor, Museum Guide stepped confidently into the arena. She was given five files, a handful of data entry forms, and no instructions. When her time started, she ran to the file cabinets first, checking the names on the files, quickly sorting them into alphabetical order. She exuded confidence and I suspected she was a volunteer leader at home. She grabbed the file cabinet drawer and pulled but it would not open. It was locked! Panicked, she looked around then wisely searched for a key, finding it taped to the back of the cabinet. After expertly filing the information, she ran to the computer and pushed the button. It sputtered and slowly whirred, so she ran to the table and started stuffing envelopes while the computer booted. Her fingers expertly flew through the pile of flyers, and she ran back to the computer and finished entering the data. The time posted was 12:56:01. Hers was the time to beat. The next competitor, Thrift Store Volunteer, didn’t fare as well. She pulled so hard on the locked file cabinet that it fell over. She managed to complete the other two tasks, but was penalized for folding the flyers face out. The third competitor, Soup Kitchen Volunteer managed to find the cabinet key but shoved all the files into one drawer. He stuffed the envelopes cleanly, but ended up spilling the cold cup of coffee left by the judges on the computer desk. The data was soaked brown and unreadable. The fourth competitor, Hospital Gift Shop Volunteer, took one look at the scene, threw up her hands and said she never did office work in her life. And the final competitor, Youth Mentor Volunteer sped through the course, but got so frustrated with the lumbering computer that he threw it on the floor, therefore being disqualified. The dozen of us in the crowd cheered wildly for all the competitors as they took a bow. We waited in anticipation for the results. Obviously Museum Guide Volunteer was the winner, but the judges conferred and decided to give it to Soup Kitchen Volunteer because he was willing to work on a Saturday night.
    The medal ceremony consisted of a nice lunch for all the volunteers with a speech telling them how important they were to their respective organizations. I didn’t get the opportunity to speak to the volunteers, but I’m thinking that they were pretty great people who took their volunteering seriously.
    I left Sochi with renewed enthusiasm for volunteers and their incredible depth of talent. I think for a first Volympics, it was pretty good. I’m encouraged, because I heard some officials discussing the next one, and they are thinking about adding the De-Luge event, where volunteer managers are overwhelmed with requests, questions, tasks, phone calls, email, drop-ins, paperwork, problems, and spreadsheets. I may start training tomorrow.
    -Meridian

  • You Have Reached This Website in Error

    redirect-foldersWe’re so used to the computer prompt when we see it: You are being redirected to another site. “Fine,” we think and we simply ease into the new locale. But did you ever think about why and how we are being redirected? Neither do I, but I think there’s probably a back story there.
    Mary is a relatively new volunteer. She came to orientation like a firecracker tossed into a library. Mary introduced herself to everyone in the room before I could slip in my cute little icebreaker. During breaks, the class was talking up a storm. Usually it takes a session or two for that kind of comfort, but with Mary present, we cut to familiarity. She answered questions with stories, asked other participants to add more and before orientation was over, she had everyone’s number. Literally, she had all their phone numbers.
    Mary wanted to work with patients and families and so we paired her with a seasoned volunteer, Joyce in a hospice house. “Well, she is chatty,” Joyce reported back. “She really got to know a lot about me.”
    “But how did she do with the patients and families?”
    “Fine,” Joyce said. “She asked a lot of questions. She seems genuinely interested in the patients’ lives.”
    “Yeah,” I said, “that’s how I viewed Mary as well.’ Her chattiness is unique. She doesn’t chat about herself so much as she chats about your life as she gets to know you. It’s like having a great-grandmother who grills you each time you visit. It’s both soothing and nerve-wracking at the same time. I sensed that Joyce was holding back, so I asked her if she thought Mary had the potential to be a good volunteer.
    “Yes,” she slowly said. “The thing is, she might just talk too much when a family just needs peace and quiet. I’m not sure she can be silent.”
    “So, you think we shouldn’t put her with patients?”
    “No, I don’t think that. It’s hard to say. I think we should give her a chance.”
    Now, most of the time, folks like Mary settle down into volunteering and do a great job. As they learn from other volunteers, they adjust and adapt and it is thrilling to hear them say things like, “I’ve learned so much,” and “I’m getting the hang of it.”
    But, although Mary genuinely cared for each patient and family she encountered and asked appropriate questions, her chattiness continued.
    One day, a staff member tentatively approached me and apologized for bringing this up, but, it seems that Mary was in the room with a patient and family, over stayed her visit and pretty much chatted with them when all they wanted was to sit and be still. So we called Mary in and talked to her about her experience.
    “What a beautiful family,” Mary said. “I learned how each member of this family traveled over distances to get here to be with their father.”
    “That’s a lot of information you gathered,” I said.
    “Oh, they were so wonderful to talk to. I loved it.”
    We talked more and I finally said, “Mary, you also need to know when to exit. Families can be weary and although they love how you listen, they also need us to leave them alone too. Do you sense that?”
    “I do,” she admitted. “I don’t want to cause them any more pain.”
    So, she promised to watch out for over staying her welcome in patients’ rooms.
    The next week the charge nurse came to see me. “We’ve got to do something about Mary.” she said.
    “Uh oh, what happened?”
    “Well, one of my nurses observed Mary talking to a family member at the coffee station. The nurse had to rescue the family member from Mary so he could go see his uncle.” The charge nurse then said, “You know, this is not the place for her.”
    Well, I had to admit, after further talking with staff, the charge nurse was right. Mary’s exuberant chattiness was not suited for the quieter nature of a hospice house. What to do with her?
    An answer came quite unexpectedly. One of the bereavement counselors happened to stop by and we talked for a bit. He mentioned that he had a lady client who needed a special volunteer to be her bereavement friend. “She is so lonely, she really needs someone to pay attention to her and well, just socialize.”
    I jumped at the chance to place Mary and so I called her up and asked to meet with her. She timidly came in and asked if I was going to fire her. “No,” I said, “Why would you think that?” (I love that question, because clearly if a volunteer asks that, they have an inkling that something is amiss)
    “I talk too much,” she said. “I can’t help it and I know the nurses are mad at me.”
    “They’re not mad, Mary. They just want what’s best for our families.”
    “I know. I try to be quieter, but it’s hard.” She made a face like a little girl and for an instant, I could picture her in the principal’s office, being scolded once again.
    “We all have gifts, Mary and yours is your love of life.”
    “So, I don’t belong here, then.” She was resigned. I suspected that she knew we were in salvage mode.
    “No, but I would like you to consider a different role. One, in which you can be more yourself.”
    I told her about the bereavement assignment and let her know that it was equally as important. We chatted for quite some time and I assured her that we were going to work with her and that we wanted her to volunteer.
    We’ve been three weeks into Mary’s new role and she is doing well. We are getting positive feedback from our client and that is good. But I’m optimistically cautious. We’ll take it slowly and I think with more time and mentoring, Mary will make a good volunteer.
    If not, we can try another redirect.
    -Meridian

  • 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

  • There are No “No-Brainers”

    square-pegDavid is a social worker and part-time volunteer coordinator for a small hospice. He coaches and encourages about 20 volunteers while providing psychosocial services for 40 nursing home patients. He jokes that he’s perfect for the volunteer manager position because “I just can’t stop offering to do things.” He has been mentoring volunteers for almost a year now and enjoys that aspect of his job. “I feel like I can really place volunteers with a patient, because I have first hand knowledge of what that patient is about. I can really connect with the volunteers too, because we both see the same people. I feel like it’s a win-win.”
    A few months ago, David was approached by a lady, Ruth, who owns Jingle, a therapy dog. Jingle is a mixed breed rescued dog and the story of how Ruth adopted him during a Christmas storm touched David’s heart. “It was awesome, and petting Jingle while Ruth told me his story made me realize how much our patients would love having him visit.” Together, David and Ruth came up with a schedule for Jingle to visit patients in a small nursing home that specializes in working with dementia residents.
    “Everything seemed fine at first,” David recalls. “I went with Ruth the first time and introduced her to the activities director, Lynn. Lynn was very welcoming and showed Ruth and Jingle the activities room and the nurses’ station. David was secretly thrilled at having introduced some alternative therapies into the volunteer program. “I always felt like if I could just have the time to do the volunteer program some justice, I would have some real neat therapies going on. I realized shortly after I started that volunteer management takes time and real effort. There’s more to it than I ever imagined.”
    After several weeks, Ruth started missing her scheduled days. David would call her when he could to check in. She said she had forgotten, or something had come up. “I was starting to get worried,” he said. “I tried to coax the real reason out of her, but she wasn’t forthcoming. I was really confused.”
    One day Ruth came into the office and asked to see David. She and Jingle settled into his small space and Ruth offered this explanation. “I think we are going to stop seeing patients for a while,” she said as she stroked Jingle’s head. “It’s just not working out the way I thought it would. The patients who we see, well, I don’t know how to put this, but they really don’t seem to get much out of our visits. They don’t seem very enthused when they see Jingle and well, he’s not excited to go there.”
    “Oh,” David said was the best he could muster. “I’m sorry you had that experience.” David said that when he recovered, he offered to send Ruth and Jingle into a different facility. He said he tried very hard to explain that his patients might not outwardly seem engaged, but Ruth was adamant. Ruth left and said she would be in touch in a few months and meanwhile, she was going to continue to visit a Children’s hospital nearby.
    David was stunned. “I honestly never in a million years expected that,” he said. “There is no doubt in my mind that the patients got so much from her visits. I just felt so helpless trying to make her see that, but I couldn’t. I really don’t know what I could have done better. It bothers me a lot that I thought this was a no-brainer and it was anything but. Maybe I need to spend more time with new volunteers, but I just can’t.” David paused. “Clearly volunteers are much more complex than I thought. I mean, the ones who were already here and working, I thought everyone new would be just like them, but I was wrong.”
    We’ve all experienced the seeming no-brainer. The volunteer who is a veteran will enjoy working exclusively with veterans. The volunteer who had an experience like our clients’ will be perfect working with our clients. The volunteer who needs hours for whatever reason will do what we ask to get those hours. None of these situations are no-brainers because, frankly there are no no-brainers. No volunteer can be pigeon-holed into a role. At least, not for long.
    You’ve had volunteers like this: The mother who wants her child to volunteer and thinks he’s the next Einstein. The man who is humble and seems lonely but secretly wants to be a motivational speaker. And the dog owner who looks you in the eye but sorta speaks to you through her dog. Each volunteer is a complex human being with needs and desires. Sometimes they have issues, hang-ups and funny quirks. But, as we place volunteers in positions, we rely more heavily on understanding the motivations and needs of each and every volunteer than our counterparts in the realm of paid employees do. We are literally human resources on steroids.
    I can only assure David that we have all been down that road. Why do volunteers stay? Well, I’ve yet to see a chart that explains it, because it’s the individuality of volunteers that we cultivate. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t tenets by which to manage volunteers. There are, but as long as we keep in mind that each new volunteer has their own path, we will be less likely to drop square pegs into round holes.
    Now that’s a no-brainer!
    -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

  • 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