I 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
Tag: volunteering
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If Volunteering Were an Olympic Sport
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First, Do No Harm
A prospective volunteer, Judy came to one of my orientations last month. She eagerly embraced the topics, participated in class and repeatedly told me how much she “owed” us for caring for her husband. She is passionate, ready to work and a strong woman. She and her husband owned a business that she now shares with her children. She has artistic abilities, is educated, well spoken and incredibly smart. She is that volunteer we dream about when we’re not having a nightmare that all the unfinished work has fused together into a giant smiling clown with a pillow and is suffocating us in our sleep. (You do have that dream, too, don’t you?)
I spent a good two hours with her one on one in a private interview a week after classes ended. We talked about her abilities and talents, her ideas and plans to help and all the folks in her business circle she knows that she can enlist to help too. So, what could possibly be wrong with this perfect volunteer?
Did you guess she’s moving? Nope. Did you guess she’s really crazy? Nope again.
Although we spent time talking about all those wonderful things, we spent 90% of the time talking about her husband’s illness and death. He died four years ago and to our credit, we took wonderful care of him. Judy passionately talked about losing a husband so early in life, the shock, the quickness of the rare disease, the legal issues surrounding a business and a lone position in life with friends encouraging “getting back in the dating game.” She had already started a support group on Facebook, has reached out to the community for research funds and would love to be able to help other young widows. Her ideas are lofty, her desire to help of the highest noble thoughts. Her energy is infectious and I wanted to reach into my drawer and pull out my checkbook.
Our conversation reminded me of John Walsh, the host of the TV show, “America’s Most Wanted.” Mr. Walsh began his crusade after his son, Adam was brutally murdered. It’s what experts call instrumental grieving, the throwing of oneself into a cause. It’s truly amazing to watch someone do that, to see their resolve, to feel their calling. These people are remarkable. They turn despair and tragedy into benefits for the rest of us. I know if my husband were to fall ill to that disease that took Judy’s husband, I would want her coaching me.
But, I cannot, in good conscience, put Judy with patients, family members or the bereaved. It matters not that she really, really, really wants to help. It matters not that she is full of passion and energy. But it does matter that in the three times we’ve talked, everything always comes back to her experience.
I’ve witnessed raw, unrelenting grief before. I’ve seen potential volunteers so fired up that they speak in a machine gun volley that shoots down every thought that does not apply to their situation. I’ve watched eager people grasp onto volunteering like a life-preserver in a sea of molten pain. I feel for them, because, just like every other volunteer, I get to know them and to know these volunteers is to know heartache. I so want to help them work through their grief, but my first loyalty is to the clients at hand. And they need volunteers who are sound, mostly healed, or at least healed enough to put aside their own lives.
And so, as the conversation wound down, Judy looked at me and breathlessly asked, “do you think I can do this?”
“Not yet,” I answered truthfully. See, I’ve learned over the course of so many years that it’s much kinder to be honest. Then I added, “I’m thinking that you will be wonderful with our patients and families one day and we are incredibly fortunate to have you. Right now, I hear some hurt and we don’t want this work to add to your hurt. You’ve been through so much.”
“I know. It still hurts and I trust your judgement.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I just need to help.” I could see the dam about to break but she quickly stuck another emotional patch on the crack that threatened to burst.
What a burden to trust me, I thought selfishly. I’m fallible, running on instinct and gut. I want to be wrong about you, to just let you come in and get whole again.
Here’s where volunteer management is on a whole other level from standard HR. Just like HR, we have jobs to fill and we head hunt for the best people for the job. But we don’t reject people. We don’t pick and choose. We try to find a place for everyone, and it takes hard work to find places for everyone. I will find a place for Judy. We will start small and away from the clients. I want to see her succeed as a volunteer and to mend her deep wounds. It will take time, observation, mentoring and caution. That’s what I signed up to do.
But first, I will do no harm, not to Judy and not to our clients.
-Meridian -
Mother, May I?
When Eve was approached by a college looking to extend a grant to a volunteer group, she was ecstatic. Working for an organization that conducts health screenings in impoverished places, she already knew that her medical volunteers needed updated equipment. Excitedly, she described the grant during her next departmental volunteer manager meeting. Everyone read the guidelines and offered verbiage for procuring the funds. Eve submitted the grant and the college announced her organization as their grant recipient.
Buoyed, she came into work the next Monday to find an invitation for a mandatory meeting with her boss and the fund-raising arm of the organization. Puzzled, she grabbed a notepad and hurried to the meeting. There, she was harshly reprimanded for “going out on her own” and “not going through the proper channels” to procure the grant. She was told in no uncertain terms that finding funds was not part of her job description and the next time she did anything like that, she would be written up. She doesn’t remember anything said about creativity, initiative or thinking outside the box.
Eve was devastated. She thought that by telling her boss, she had by proxy, informed everyone she needed to. Her boss thought that Eve had already informed the proper folks in the fund-raising department.
Eve felt betrayed. She couldn’t fathom how something so wonderful could be viewed as something negative, so she sought out her good friend and mentor, Rosalyn, who used to work in her department but retired a year ago. Rosalyn listened and nodded. “I’m really sorry that happened to you,” she said, “but I’m not surprised. It happened to me a long time ago and I learned a valuable lesson from it. When you’re dealing with non-profit types, you not only have to follow all the rules, you have to understand that these are people who deal in feelings everyday. And so it is natural that their own feelings come into play.”
Eve was skeptical. “You’re saying that I hurt their feelings?”
“In a sense. You hurt their feelings, usurped their power, stepped into their area, you name it, that’s how they perceived it.”
“But I did something to help. They weren’t going to write for that grant.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve got to realize, they are under a lot of pressure. Your organization can’t function without donations.”
“But,” Eve interjected, “we can’t run without volunteers.”
“True, but if fund-raisers started recruiting volunteers, how would you feel? Would you feel like they are helping you?”
“No,” Eve admitted. “I’d be worried about my job.”
“So, can you see how they felt?”
“I guess so,” Eve said. “But then, that means if I find something outside of my job description that would actually help my organization, I just have to pass it up?”
“No, not necessarily. You just have to adopt the Mother, May I principle.”
“I think I know where this is going.”
“Yes, you do, and that’s how I survived my tenure with all the other departments. Let me tell you a typical path I took to get a project going.”
“Please, because you started so many projects there.”
“Well, let’s say I was approached by a student group wanting to volunteer to do some media publicity for us. This would be my plan of action. First, I would meet with the students and thoroughly get all their intentions on paper. I would make sure that the verbiage I used with them always included maybe, perhaps, we’ll see, if it can be done, I make no promises, etc. Then I would go to my boss and explain the idea and ask permission to go higher up. I would follow that conversation with an email outlining what we discussed. I then would make an appointment with the proper decision maker, invite my boss to the meeting and present an outline of the project. I would include all the benefits to all the departments as well. Now here’s the tricky part. In that meeting, I would use the verbiage, if you think, we could use your buy in, we need your help to succeed, and I would offer to let them consider it and get back with me. I would tell them that they would be informed every step of the way and could pull the plug at any time.”
“Mother, May I.”
“Yes, it worked most of the time. It’s really just common courtesy blended with concrete and clear information. That’s the key.”
“But it’s so time-consuming, so, so, demeaning. I mean, don’t they trust me?”
“That has nothing to do with it. They need to know what is going on at all times. Secretly, I think they were glad that I was doing all the legwork for these projects. The more I kept them informed, the more autonomy I had. It was a win-win for everyone.”
“But didn’t you hate babying all those people?”
“Aha! No, because you have to look at it as approaching them in the way that works for them. You still get what you set out to get. Don’t you already do that with volunteers?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I know it’s time-consuming and it takes an attitude of humility. If you run up to them and shout, ‘hey, I’ve got the best idea ever and you should thank me for bringing it up,’ you’re not going to gather many supporters. And going it alone, even when you have something wonderful to offer can create friction. I once created an event on my own time that benefited the organization. No one was thrilled, in fact they were peeved. I was viewed as trying to bring down their event castle so to speak, so no help or acknowledgement came my way. Be humble and mindful of their areas of power. It’s like you are knocking on the door of their castle instead of getting out the catapult to bust in. That way, they open the door and invite you in. There’s no benefit to making enemies of the people you work with, right?”
“Uh huh. Mother, May I. Knock, and ask.”
“Oh, and one other thing. Bring flowers.”
-Meridian -
So The Magic Number is Six
I’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 -
Thankful
As we approach Thanksgiving and I still don’t know if I will have the whole day off, thereby enlisting some family members to step up and stuff the turkey, I’m finding myself mentally slowing things down and actually thinking about what it is I’m thankful for.
When it comes to my job, I’ve mentally deleted all the overwork and minutia and all that is imperfect and really thought about that which I am truly thankful for. Here’s is my list in no particular order.
I’m thankful that I took a chance twenty years ago and “tried” this job. I’m still trying it on.
I’m thankful that I’ve gotten to know thousands of people who want to give back. It’s like working in a bubble in some ways but I’ve gotten to see some remarkable people who fill me up with hope.
I’m thankful that I’ve had a chance be creative, and that since there wasn’t much of handbook on volunteering at my organization when I started, I got the chance to help develop one.
I’m thankful that volunteers are so open, willing to embrace the mission and that they put their volunteering lives into my hands. That’s a lot of trust. I hope I never lose their faith.
I’m thankful that thousands of hurting people have been helped by our volunteers. I hope that in some small way, I’ve had a part in that.
I’m thankful for co-workers who work hard to understand volunteers’ motivations and who ask for volunteer help, not demand it.
I’m thankful for Shirley, a co-worker who, in the seventeen years I’ve known her, has never said an unkind word about anyone. Her charitable spirit is my goal. I fail miserably every day when I mumble about the injustice of it all, but I want to be more like her.
I’m thankful for Jerry, my co-worker who I’ve known for nineteen years. He has my back and I have his. We don’t always agree, but we have a deep respect and liking for each other.
I’m thankful for Pete, our volunteer who was in class ten years ago. When I need some free therapy, I call him up. We spend twenty minutes doing Bob Dylan impressions, imagining a world in which squirrels are smarter than humans, and talking about what life will be like when boomers get into nursing homes. That time talking to him is like a week at a spa.
I’m thankful for Eva, who started as a volunteer five months after I started. She’s watched my family grow, I’ve watched hers. We are good, good friends. Not the boundary crossing kind, the lifelong kind.
I’m thankful for all the giggling, lively groups of students. Since my kids are grown, they tend to teach me what youth looks like now. I think the future is in pretty good hands.
I’m thankful for this evolving media. Before the widespread use of the internet, there was very little information on volunteer management. We all operated in silos so we had to “wing it” most of the time. Now there’s help and support out there if we look.
I’m thankful that the vast majority of volunteer managers take their profession seriously and that every night they can go home, look themselves in the mirror and be proud of what they’ve done. Sleep well each night because you’ve made more of a difference than you know.
I’m thankful for Dave, the captain. Even though he can’t volunteer anymore, he always calls me at just the right time to say hi and find out how I am doing. Coincidentally, he called me yesterday.
I’m thankful for all that I have learned. I never would have had this education in another profession.
I’m thankful for the nuances of life. If I have taken anything away from this job, it’s that life and people are many faceted, complex and fluid. Surprises always have a lesson tucked in there like fortune cookies.
I’m thankful for my failures and successes. Both keep me moving.
I’m thankful that my family understands how being involved in a mission is more than a nine to five job.
Lastly, I’m thankful for the chance to share.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
-Meridian -
I Wish She Had a Volunteer
A story that is circulating about a terminally ill woman, known as the Layaway Angel, really made me start to think about all the clients we serve.
Layaway AngelAn excerpt from the story reads:
“Everybody wants to go back to school with new clothes,” said Store Manager Joyce Beane. “Now 16 more families can do that.”The families had all fallen behind on their payments.
Enter the Back to School Angel.
“She was here about 15 minutes. She paid off 16 the layaways in cash, about $3,000. Then she said I’m not feeling well I need to leave,” recalled Beane.
My first thought, (as a manager of volunteers) was, wow, I hope she is on hospice and I hope she has a volunteer. It sounded like she entered the store alone and I immediately pictured in my head a smiling volunteer accompanying her, helping her walk up to the counter. I thought about this lady’s last days, maybe sans family and friends and how a caring volunteer could sit with her, reminiscing about her life and doing, well, what a volunteer does best.
I thought about that until I stopped thinking like I had my office phone in one hand and the computer keyboard in another.
It’s ingrained (and I mean cemented!) into our cranium that we “see” the potential for a volunteer. Scrape a knee? A volunteer can bandage that right up. Need some Twinkies? I think a volunteer can run through that Quickie Mart just fine. See, that’s how we view the world. How do our volunteers fit in to help?
But then I don’t know this woman. I don’t know her condition, her life history, her wants, needs, pet peeves or personality. Maybe she wouldn’t want a volunteer. Maybe she’s super independent and wants to be alone. Maybe she’s a person who doesn’t need help. (Whoa, that’s not possible, is it?).
Then I started thinking about all the volunteers who tell me how much they learn from the people they serve. Maybe a patient is using a volunteer, Jose to just sit with him while his wife goes to the store. Jose, who is trying to perfect his English, ends up learning that the patient emigrated from Italy and struggled to learn English, but managed to raise six kids who all became successful. Or Claudia, who while visiting a patient learns that the patient lost a child many years before. And Claudia, who had also lost a child, finds a deep connection with this patient, finding solace in her visits. Or the volunteer, Karen, who was just laid off, volunteers with clients who survived the great depression.
Honestly, who benefits more from the relationships that are formed between volunteer and client? Volunteers always say they get more than they give and they are probably right. Those who volunteer doing the one on one work get hooked and want to do it again and again. It’s an addiction to soul candy. And ironically, the ones who get the most from their volunteering are not the needy ones nor the selfish ones. No, the ones who get the most are the ones who approach it with humility, by putting the focus on the client. The more they do that, the more they reap the rewards. Those who go looking for soul candy are usually so distracted by their own needs they miss the trail of candy bits that leads them to the dish. So, when I look at that story, and think like a volunteer manager, I wish she had a volunteer because I try to imagine the help a volunteer can lend to her journey. I have to admit though, I don’t know what that might be.
But can that Layaway Angel teach a person lucky enough to volunteer for her something profound about life? Hmmm, it sure seems so.
Therefore, I stand by my original wish. I wish she had a volunteer: But maybe someone to teach. I kinda wish it were me.
-Meridian -
Volunteering: Well-being Gained or Brought?
Jess is a petite brunette who brings a tranquil aura to her volunteering. She is positive, sensitive and gracious. That is, until a few weeks ago. I noticed something slightly askew when she complained about not having enough forms to fill out. She seemed irritated and preoccupied. I caught her a week later staring vacantly into space, and when spoken to, uninterested in the conversation. I had to ask her what was wrong and she reluctantly confided that her son just entered drug rehab. Ahhh, of course. Personal problems push aside tranquility like a schoolyard bully with the new kid.
Jess just wasn’t here, not 100%, and I suspect not even 50%. So, how does volunteering fit in with Jess’ definition of well-being?
As I pondered Jess’ circumstance and wondered if her volunteering gave her some sort of welcome distraction or if it just crowded her thoughts, I started thinking about how we “sell” volunteering by talking about how good it is for the participants. This caused me to reflect on the thousands of conversations with volunteers about their personal circumstances. It occurred to me that the vast majority of volunteers came with well-being already intact. We didn’t create well-being for them. We may have enhanced it, we may have filled a void, added a dimension, helped with grief, paved a way, helped fill time, boosted self-esteem, and maybe even helped mend a heart.But in all those cases, we added, not created. This was a sobering thought for me. I’ve had volunteers who were forced to come, whether by a parent, spouse, school, court or a friend. The door for them is often shut. I think I’m kidding myself if I believe that I can make them a volunteer in spite of their resistance. They have to give just a little.
I remember Jana, a crushed human being. She came out of real desperation. She took over a year to start actually volunteering. Her beginning was spent healing. She made it with real determination. But the point is, she made it because she always wanted to make it and was willing to open up and find how she could. This becomes a tightrope walk for volunteer managers. How do you encourage someone to volunteer without letting them “experiment” on clients? It takes a great deal of patience and time and effort. It can be exhausting, especially since you have so many other volunteers to mentor. I think volunteer managers take personal pride in helping someone through volunteering. But I think, too, we don’t kid ourselves into thinking that volunteering will “fix” anyone.
I think of Antoinette, whose grown son had died 12 years before. She had hoped that by volunteering, she would find a way to fill the hole in her heart. She volunteered for 3 years, and it never happened. She spent the vast majority of her volunteer time talking to me about how her son’s wife was a negligent mother. She hurt, and no amount of volunteering helped. As a matter of fact, very early on in her volunteering, I once found a family member comforting Antoinette. After that, I kept her away from clients. Antoinette’s volunteering was exhausting. Other volunteers asked me why I put up with it. Honestly, I don’t know, but I suspect that somehow, I thought volunteering had this magical quality to it. I’m not so sure anymore.
I’ve had people tell me that volunteering has changed their life. What I think now, is that volunteering opened the door for a part of them that was always there. And if that’s the best we can do, then I’m pretty proud of that. Because it also means that we don’t have to continue to blame ourselves if volunteering doesn’t work for everyone. It’s not a salve or an elixir or a magic pill. It is an act of putting oneself aside to help someone else in their time of need. It takes a certain amount, even if it is miniscule, of well-being to volunteer. We, volunteer managers, can usually find that well-being fiber that allows someone to give selflessly. We love to cultivate it and make it grow.
But we don’t have drawers full of magic pills to hand out. Our drawers are full of the stuff that helps us do our job, like listening skills, discernment, patience and good, sound judgement.
And so, I now think that I’ve always been looking for volunteers to come and be well, not come and get well. Our clients certainly deserve that.
-Meridian -
The Robot Volunteer
If you’re a sci-fi fan or even just a fan of good old science, you know the advances being made in robotics. From the robot vacuum to the automated assembly line, we are seeing robots take over repetitive jobs. They’re everywhere; their little stiff knees are walking them into all aspects of our lives.
So, I know you’ve imagined it. I know you’ve thought about it: The day when they create a robot that takes the place of volunteers. Here’s how it goes. You just program in exactly what task you want the Roboteer to perform and voila! The task is completed with no calling in sick, no lengthy vacations, no listening to it talk about it’s Roboteer life, no questions, and no job that you have to re-do.
You need a Roboteer to mentor a child? Just program it to have a digitally compassionate voice. You need it to help set up an event? Just program it to go all day and never sit down for a glass of water. What about meals on wheels? Well, just program it to not only deliver the meals, but to spend 15 minutes giving the shut-in some socialization. And when the 15 minutes are up? It shuts down on that needy shut-in so that it is never off schedule. What a perfect solution it is. Why not? You wouldn’t have to pay volunteer managers and besides, volunteers are ancillary anyway, right? And they do repetitive jobs, don’t they?
I’m picturing it right now. Somebody (not me, I’ve been laid off) gets a request for a volunteer to visit a patient in a nursing home. That somebody opens the closet, turns the key on a spiffy metal pal with a name like Compassion Nate 3000, and programs the coordinates in. The eyes open and it hums, “I am ready to serve”. Then it’s off to the nursing home, where it zips into the patient’s room. Our patient, Miss Aida, who has been dozing, wakes to see a metallic face peering down. Miss Aida starts screaming as Compassion Nate grabs her wrist and in a soothing electronic voice says “calm down, I am here to serve you” over and over. The patient continues to scream until one of the nursing home robots, Facility Friend 800 comes in and tries to remove Roboteer Compassion Nate. Nate, being the newer model, pulverizes Facility Friend, turning her into scrap. Miss Aida, now traumatized, is subdued by real humans.
Well, if it comes to that, I’d like to offer a suggestion. I’d rather they make cyborg volunteers, you know, those creatures that are a combination of robot and human. And for the human parts, I’d like them to clone some of the volunteers I know. So if they can make the Cybunteer, here’s what I want them to do:
Take a piece of Dottie, who will mentor any new volunteer. She just mentored two yesterday, at different times in different locations. “It’s important.” she says matter of factly.
Add a piece of Bryan, who will drop everything and make sure a dying veteran gets a visit.
Throw in a hunk of Jules, who calmly says “don’t worry, I can handle it.”
Then put in a pinch of Anna, who always asks for detailed instructions, because “I want to do the right thing.”
Maybe take some of Jerry, who although only 16, says, “I need to give back. I really believe we all should.”
Oh, and steal some of Glynn who always arrives on time and asks if she can do anything extra.
But don’t forget Jose, who always fills out his paperwork because “I know this is crucial to your reporting.”
Top it off with a bit of Cara, who simply glows when she is with patients and families.
If they can do that, we may have a suitable substitute for our human volunteers. Gone will be the mistakes, the anxiety of learning a volunteer role, the need for reassurance. Gone will be our jobs making sure that it all runs smoothly. Our great grandchildren will ask, “what’s a volunteer coordinator?”
Ahh, the future. Or maybe, just maybe, volunteering will go the way of kneading pie dough, painting a waterfall on canvas or sewing a quilt. Machines can do those things, but we choose to do them, because they invoke feelings of connection and accomplishment. Which then makes me wonder. Can we separate the task portion of volunteering from the reward portion? Or is volunteering more about breathing in unison with a dying patient to establish that perfect moment of imperfect human connection? I’d like to see Robopanion 200 do that!
-Meridian -
Confessions
I don’t know if was a full moon, or maybe Venus somehow sneaked around and eclipsed Mars, but there was a definite vibe in my volunteer training the other evening. You know the old game Pick Up Stix where you drop sticks down and then have to pick them up one by one? New groups of volunteers remind me of the random pattern you get from that game. Each group’s dynamics is so varied, yet intertwined and the personalities clash or sync which really creates the tempo.One of our volunteers, Dave, has always offered to come and speak to class. I took him up on his offer. I love volunteer speakers; they are honest, inspiring, witty and extremely encouraging. You never know, though what they are going to say, but for the most part, honesty works.
Dave sauntered in and greeted me gruffly, said hi to the newbies and got to work recounting his experiences with patients and families. He told them about patients who were funny, families who were loving, circumstances that were inspiring. He stretched his images out like canvas over a frame, painting a colorful and rich world of volunteering.
Then, suddenly Dave shifted gears. It came after he spoke about a patient who had battled alcoholism for most of his life. Dave grew serious as he described the patient’s struggle and then launched into his own battle with alcohol abuse. He spoke about the program he enrolled in and the dedicated counselor he had.
Oh, oh, I thought as I scanned the class. Too much information. But how do I stop Dave without giving the impression that he was speaking out of turn? But as I surveyed the faces, I could see they were mesmerized. Dave finished by emotionally thanking everyone for their attention, and as he left, his confession hovered over those pick up sticks like a hand about to drop. And before I could apologize or commend, one new volunteer, Janice started talking about her up and down battle with depression and how it had ruled her life since she was a teenager. Her classmates nodded sympathetically. Then Troy added that he had been institutionalized while in college and pretty soon each one confessed challenges they had faced in life.
I had not only lost control, I lost my space in this jumble of sticks that were starting to move into a line. As I sat back and let them talk to one another, I realized that the next big subject we were going to tackle was active listening. I watched them listen to one another, and from habit I looked from one face to another. Every one of them was intently focused on the others. It was awesome, actually.
They finished and looked at me like kids who were caught. “we’re sorry,” they said.
“You know,” I mused as they allowed me back in, “this is the first time in 20 years I’ve ever done this, but I’m going to skip the first part of our active listening exercise. What you’ve done here with each other is real, authentic active listening.”
They beamed.
It got me to thinking. What lurks in the volunteers’ past? What stories and secrets do they keep locked away until someone gives them permission to turn the key? Does it matter if we know? What doesn’t show up on a background check? That I hate my mother, I’m obsessive compulsive, I am afraid of people with red hair? Will a background check reveal that I have an agenda? Or that I am not a team player?Will I watch these volunteers more closely? Honestly, no. I think they represent all volunteers. They just happened to feel comfortable enough with each other to be honest. We all have something that on paper makes us undesirable, but in person makes us honest, vulnerable, human. We want the human volunteers and that’s what we get every day. So, when new volunteers connect with one another, I don’t have to pick up sticks and worry about moving the ones below. They moved each other into a sync that will serve them well when working with our patients and families.
Their confessions? Safe with me.
-Meridian -
Can Justice Truly Prevail?
Last week I had a phone conversation with the mother of a 16 year old prospective volunteer. It went something like this:She: My daughter, Olivia, needs 30 hours by the end of this school year.
Me: Well, that’s quite a number of hours over the next three weeks. Typically, with student volunteers, we begin with orientation. Our student orientation for this summer is scheduled for the beginning of June. We may have to orient Olivia one on one since she needs hours before orientation starts. Would you be comfortable with that? I may have some time on Friday.
She: She can’t come in Friday after school, she has cheer-leading. On Wednesdays, she has piano, and she has student government. This weekend we are out-of-town, camping. She can come in Monday at 5pm but I need her to be home by 7.
Me: Hmmmm, Monday is not good for me, I have an appointment with a group on the other side of town. What does Olivia’s schedule look like for the actual volunteering?
She: She can work some Saturdays and then I’ll give you a schedule of the few times she can be there after school. She may need to get the volunteering in on Saturdays though, which means 8 or 9 hours there. I’m assuming she can do some homework too.
Me: We don’t typically have volunteers, especially students, volunteer that many hours at a time. It’s too intense and too much for anyone. (and me too, I thought angrily. I’m not coming in all day Saturday).
Her: But that is the only way to get her hours in. She can’t come on Sunday and she has activities all week. You need to take her on Saturdays. Or don’t you accommodate volunteers?
Me: Of course we do, but we also want our volunteers to be placed in situations where they won’t be overwhelmed. We want them to have a meaningful time.
Her: Sigh. It needs to be on Saturdays.
Now, if you are yelling at the screen, shouting at me to hang up (which is what I’d be yelling if I were reading this), then let me throw in a tidbit of information. This mother is the wife of a big donor. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Volunteer rules aren’t the same here, are they?
Somehow, I had to give in and get Olivia her hours. I know some might say, “heck, sign off on the hours. The kid won’t get anything out of volunteering anyway. Cut your losses!” Nah, can’t do that, somehow that just feels really wrong. And maybe,I reasoned, I could catch up on all the other piles of work on Saturday so I gave in and scheduled her. I got up that morning, a bit irritated, but determined to make the best of it.
But it did sting that my time and effort and carefully crafted rules regarding volunteering, when weighed against a donation, well, just don’t matter as much.
Sometimes we are forced to bend our rules because a prospective volunteer is the son of a senior manager, or the wife of a donor, or an attorney or whomever it is the organization does not want to upset. There are volunteers and then there are VOLUNTEERS if you know what I mean. It happens in the workforce too, so I can’t say we’re the only ones in the lopsided scale of the justice basket.
Didn’t make it feel any better though. But, rules are meant to be broken and so I came into the in-patient unit and mentored Olivia. And guess what? You already know that she was delightful. She apologized for taking up my Saturday. We visited patients and she told me that she wanted to be a pediatrician. At one point, Olivia held a patient’s hand and softly sang in Italian, the patient’s native tongue. The 93 year old former WWII bride from Italy’s face relaxed as the gentle lyrics stroked her soul.
Well, I could have missed that experience. I went home that afternoon satisfied. We didn’t stay 9 hours, we stayed 5. Olivia made such an impression on the staff that they will mentor her the next two Saturdays so I’m free to go back to my weekdays. Funny, I’m going to miss coming in with her.
And you know what I learned? The scales of justice balance out because the universe is watching out for us.
-Meridian
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