volunteerplaintalk

Tag: volunteer

  • The Virtuoso

    When I was in college, I had a roommate, Marcia, who played the flute in the orchestra. She practiced in our sparse living room while we all studied or made a community meal.

    Marsha loved the arts and would happily discuss Gauguin or my loves, Shakespeare and Wordsworth.  She also delicately sipped snifters of brandy. I pretty much thought Marcia was cultivated and when she set fingers to flute to practice, I let myself be swept up in the gentle notes. After all, I had taken two classes in music appreciation.

    One day, Marcia brought another flutist home. Jen was first chair, we found out later and together they filled the apartment with lilting strains. But when Marcia excused herself to get a drink of water, she left Jen to continue. Jen’s mastery hit me with a lyrical sledgehammer. I was hearing the same notes, but Jen’s were ethereal, haunting, full of the writer’s intent. Wow, I was experiencing pure talent.

    I just finished teaching an orientation class. I’ve done hundreds now and when I first started orienting volunteers, I was convinced that everyone could be taught the finer art of volunteering. With encouragement, I was certain they could all be Mother Teresa.

    I don’t think that anymore, just as I don’t think Marcia, my roommate could ever reach Jen’s level, no matter how much she practiced. As the flute became a magical tool in Jen’s talented hands, so does volunteering become masterful in only the hands of a few. You know them instinctively.

    They have this aura about them, a confident humility about their deep understanding of what needs to be done. Their volunteering fingers run smoothly over each task, producing a fabric of human art. There is a beauty to those moments when volunteer and client connect at a deeper level, and like music, it hangs in the air for a second, while you catch your breath.

    How do they do it? How is it that not everyone can create it and why can’t I find more virtuosos? I suppose it’s the same reason not everyone can be Mozart or Matisse or Pynchon.

    And so, as each class graduates, I am looking at them, wondering who will be the next virtuoso, if there is one in class at all. I’m hoping to come upon a scene in which a new volunteer is weaving a song so beautiful, it takes my breath away.

    I can orient them, lead them, encourage them and support them but I can’t create natural ability. I can only try and find it. And find it I will, because every time I am swept up in that perfect moment, I’m reassured that it is there, and once again I can behold mastery.

    -Meridian

  • Um, Now That I Know This, What Can I Do?

    Yes, I trained Lisa. She sat in class with the rest of the group and offered comments, answered questions just like anyone else. I didn’t quite get the sense that she wanted to help like most other trainees, but that certainly didn’t disqualify her. I’m too afraid to make a judgement up front like that because I have been horribly wrong in the past.

    Anyway, Lisa left a voice mail message the other day. She couldn’t come in for her shift. What she did not realize is she failed to hang up and when her cell phone rang, she answered it. The voice message recorded the whole conversation. I suppose I should have deleted it before I heard it, but it happened so fast…

    It went (in short) something like this…

    “Yeah, oh hi! No, no, it’s ok, I’m not doing anything. I know, I know. Uh huh, uh huh, tonight? I think I can. No, he doesn’t suspect a thing. No, no, I can tell. No, Roger’s f#@$ clueless. I can’t wait to #@#$ ….”

    Well, you get the rest. Roger is her husband by the way. Curse those message machines that accept long messages. Curse me for not hanging up. (what’s that say about me, shudder?). But curse having knowledge that I don’t want to have in my head.

    Now, Lisa, who was before this knowledge, a potentially good volunteer, is a smarmy cheat in my eyes. She has a right to her privacy. Thankfully, I don’t know most of what goes on in the private lives of the volunteers. We volunteer managers get involved in enough of it.

    There’s not much I can do about what I heard, except try to put it aside and concentrate on whether Lisa does a good volunteer job, just like any other volunteer.

    But I know that the next time I see her, I will hear some of those descriptions in my head. I can’t promise I won’t be stand offish or give her a judgmental look. I do know, that if I pick up another voice mail from her, I’ll just delete it and call her back. Shudder or I’ll have to get therapy.

    -Meridian

     

  • Uh Oh, The Back of the Head

    Jo is a really generous person and a great volunteer. She lives alone with her dog, Sally (a toy poodle). She is a widow and has children that live in another state. She is full of life and laughs easily. She is a breath of fresh air.

    The other day Jo came in for her weekly volunteer duties. It was after Christmas. Only one family member, her son could make the visit to see her, and he had to go back right away. She said it was really nice to see him. As Jo turned to go, I noticed the back of her head, or her hair to be more specific. It was all matted, like she forgot to comb that part. “No!” my mind shouted, “not Jo!”

    See, that’s my visual cue, my telltale sign, my notice to start watching. Now, it’s possible Jo didn’t get enough sleep or she was just worn out from the holiday or maybe she just forgot. Yeah, that’s what I tell myself with all of them. But then I notice them asking the same question over and over, or the not remembering who works in the office or sometimes a general confusion. The guys might have a spot on a previously immaculate shirt or wear two different socks. These are the warning signs, subtle yet unmistakable.

    They are failing. They, too are only human and capable of getting older. “No! I want them to stay the same!” They are so comfortable, so dependable, so like a warm blanket on a frosty night. I don’t want to replace them with someone new, someone who doesn’t know the job, who doesn’t have the commitment, who doesn’t make me smile. But most of all, I don’t want to see them fail, to be another one who can’t come in anymore and who chalks it up to life, who takes things in stride and honorably slips away. It reminds me of Bobbie who developed ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and kept coming just like my tears.

    “Ouch“. I don’t want to sit at another bedside and pat a hand and talk about how much her volunteer service meant. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to put into words how I felt about each one of them. I kissed Jay on the head and he whispered “I love you.” I held Heloise’s hand and she stroked my cheek. I sat beside Ben and said “hi” and his body stirred. And so many others.

    Did they know they were more than just volunteers? Did they know that they inspired me and made me a better person? I think I’ll not take the chance with Jo and tell her while she is still volunteering. It will humble me and that’s not bad. And although she doesn’t comb the back of her hair, I will continue to cherish her and to be grateful for the opportunity to know her.

    And yes, I will be at her bedside when that time comes. She deserves that and so much more.

    -Meridian

  • The Jekyll and Hyde of It

    So, I’m picking up my messages at home. There’s the usual “selling me something” plus “will you vote for me” messages coming up. Most everyone I know calls my cell now. But wait! There, buried in the middle of all the spam is a message that begins with, “Hello, Meridian, this is Clovis, remember me?”

    Ahhh, yes, how could I not? Clovis volunteered with us more than fifteen years ago. Her son had died from a prolonged fight with cancer and she had come to us to volunteer. It had been a year and a half since his death and she was feeling the need to do something with her life other than be retired. I want to say that she was a great volunteer. I want to say that she was a really good volunteer. I can say that she was a consistent volunteer and always showed up. Looking back on her two years of service, I cannot really say why.

    Clovis worked in the office. She filed, helped with mailings and other assorted tasks. She was pretty good, don’t get me wrong, but what Clovis did was talk incessantly. We’ve all had volunteers like that, the chatty ones who talk continually. Some even talk over you as you try to get a word in about how to do a task. Clovis, though, talked incessantly about her son and his death and particularly about her son’s wife and how she did not do right by him.

    We offered bereavement which she accepted. But as often happens to volunteer managers, I became the de facto listening ear. And so, for two years as Clovis dealt with the death of her son and all the trappings, I heard her. It was ok, believe me, because I was newer to the profession and a heck of a lot younger. I had the energy and truly, I never thought for a moment that being everything a volunteer needed, no matter what they needed was just part of the job.

    I vividly remember one afternoon in particular. I came around the corner of the hallway and found Clovis weeping into the arms of another woman. The problem was, that other woman was a caregiver who was in the process of losing her loved one. Sigh. To this day, I use that example when teaching boundaries. Even though Clovis never worked with patients and families, she did at times encounter them as they came into the office. I shudder to think what happened outside the office in the general public.

    Clovis’ phone message was long and rambling. She had broken a bone and was in rehab. She just wanted me to know. We all know what that is code for. I want you to call me or come see me.

    Now here’s the Jekyll and Hyde part. There are volunteers who are in nursing homes that have given long, faithful service that I have not seen in a while. Guilt follows me like a pack of hyenas after a wounded zebra.

    Did Clovis give that same amount of service? She certainly thought she did and in her own way, she gave what she could. How dare I judge her for that.

    Do I want to sit and hear her for an hour or two. “No, don”t waste your time” whispers Jekyll in my ear. It’s like going back to that relationship that never worked out. I just don’t think I have the patience anymore. After all, would I want Clovis back as a volunteer? Not really, if I’m brutally honest. So I deleted the message.

    Somehow, though, I clearly remember the name of the nursing home and room number from the message. Hyde is caressing my other ear with tales of what a nice person I am. Not used to be-still am. Where is that idealistic, I can turn anyone into a productive volunteer person? After all, isn’t volunteering a kind of symbiotic relationship? And besides, how can I try to teach people to be empathetic and not be empathetic myself? Pretty darn hypocritical, I’d say. And really, did I listen to Clovis all those years ago because I was so darned nice or was it because I held a loftier view of myself and my capabilities? Ouch, don’t go there Mr. Hyde.

    Jekyll is laughing at me as Hyde keeps trying. What is that room number again? I think I still remember it so we’ll see who wins this battle. Maybe I can send a card or call and leave a message. Or maybe, I’ll give in to Jekyll and take an actual firm stand. Room 601 you say, Mr. Hyde? Got it.

    -Meridian

  • 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

  • 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

  • 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