volunteerplaintalk

Tag: volunteering

  • Happy Volunteer Appreciation Week! I Appreciate the Little Things

    cheersThis volunteer appreciation week, I thought about the volunteers I personally appreciate and so I want to publicly acknowledge them. (names changed, however).

    Bill: For giving me that coveted family recipe for Yorkshire pudding-yum

    Jewel: For always being the first one to call me when I make a typo on flyers and telling me you’ll be at the meeting at 3am (oh, didn’t I say 3pm?)

    George: For calling me once a month with a joke-always needed

    Aida: For teaching me how to make real tamales at your house-complete with margaritas

    Mel: For your “Bob Dylan” impersonation that makes me snort with laughter

    Sadie: For always being the one volunteer I tell my stresses to, don’t know why I do that to only you, but you always make me feel like it’s going to be ok

    Kim: For always taking my face into your hands and looking into my eyes and telling me that I’m loved

    Bud: For always gruffly saying, “oh here comes the suit” when you see me. You actually make me feel like a manager

    Terri: For always understanding when I have to write down what you need and telling you that I have to call you back and then forgetting to do even that

    Syl: For being new and jumping right in, and then, in all the chaos, announcing that you “love it here”

    Lucy: For being part of that hair brained scheme called “recruit by food” and then doing your Edith Ann impersonation when it failed… miserably

    Josie: For believing me when I involved you in that project and not wavering even once

    Harry: For always kissing my hand (very Louis XIV)  when you see me

    Delores: For laughingly grabbing that paper out of my hands when I sheepishly said I forgot to give it to you and not making me feel like I’ve let you down

    Martin: For bringing me that obscure book on Marcel Proust because you remembered I liked him way back in college

    Walt: For giving me that figurine because your late wife shared my birth day

    Kristen: For laughing at my jokes in front of your savvy student friends so that I didn’t look like an idiot

    Dot: For always making that trip to the mail room before you leave because you know I’m not going to get away

    Kitty: For meeting me, at night, at that patient’s house

    Carla: For taking me under your wing when I got here and showing me how to care

    Phil: For telling me every time you see me how much you enjoyed my class

    Bob: For talking sports with me

    Tobi: For making sense of the spreadsheets

    Tuesday crew: For the “News Flashes”

    In looking back over this list, I realize, I have a very lot to be grateful for. I’m sure I’ve left many of you out, not to mention looking back over the years at all the volunteers I’ve known. Each one of you has made an impression on me and taught me something valuable. You may not know it, but you keep me going. It feels as though you are somehow extensions of me that are doing good in this world. I know that sounds selfish, and I don’t mean it that way, but I feel connected to you and the great things you do come humming back the way blood circulates throughout the body. I am proud of you and humbled by your work ethic. I’m protective of you and yet amazed at your strength. I’m careful to get what you need yet bolstered by your resilience. You, my friends, are the best and just being in your presence is enough to look back one day and say, “I was part of something”.

    Cheers to you all! You have made my life richer, more complex, more interesting and infinitely more worthwhile. You are most appreciated.

    -Meridian

  • Girls Night Out or a Game of Complaints?

    girls night outAs I sat in a meeting with volunteers Darla and Jo, and the supervisor, Cindy of the department that they volunteer for, I found myself wondering how we got to this point in the first place. We were meeting because the volunteers were unhappy with a certain staff member, Kay, who directed them on a weekly basis. They wanted to air their concerns with Kay’s immediate supervisor, and asked me to sit in as the buffer. I was only too happy to do so; I wanted to protect the volunteers and to also learn why things go so wrong.

    The supervisor, Cindy, was defensive at first and I watched the volunteers’ expressions sink. For a moment they thought their concerns would be dismissed, but they pulled out a scribbled list of examples to show that they were being treated like indentured servants. After two hours, Cindy finally decided that it was a “personality issue” and she would address it with Kay. What I got from Cindy’s comment is that both sides were somewhat at fault. However, Cindy assured us all that she would follow-up. Interestingly, even though seemingly treated very poorly, Darla and Jo did not want to quit; they said they loved the organization and wanted to continue and felt “part of the mission.”

    Perhaps something Darla and Jo said might explain their loyalty. They mentioned that they often went out with other staff members in Kay’s department. Really? And they dropped some hints that the other staff members had run-ins of their own with Kay. Hmmm. So, what that means, is when out socially, away from work, these staff members let loose and talk about the organization and other employees in front of volunteers. These staff members complain and criticize and draw the volunteers into the politics of their department. Nice.

    Now, maybe the volunteers are correct about Kay’s actions. But how much of what they offered is because they are “in” with some staff who happen to not like Kay for whatever reasons? That’s a whole other issue. After the meeting ended, I privately said to Cindy, “In the volunteer realm, it’s a very bad idea to socialize with the volunteers and air grievances. If staff is going to invite the volunteers out to a function, then they’d better invite all of them and they’d better not make the volunteers privy to the inner workings of the department or organization. They are not here to be pawns in some personal battle.”

    So, Cindy, who is the supervisor of all in question, shrugs and says, “they’re on their own time, what can I do?” Really? How would you like it if your supervisor invited a couple of staff members out for drinks and they trashed you?

    Eventually, after much discussion,  I used my old standby CYA line (which I use more and more frequently). “I’m going on record as saying that allowing staff members to fraternize with volunteers on off time and discuss work issues makes for a harmful work environment and should be stopped immediately.” And I will be noting this conversation.

    The supervisor looked at me hard and said, “you’re probably right. I’ll talk to all of them.” Then she sighed a very big, put-out sigh. I knew what was going through her head. She didn’t need another petty annoyance. Well, guess what? Taking care of the volunteers is everyone’s business, not just the volunteer department’s. Grow a spine and tell your employees to treat them with respect and don’t let them play volunteers and suck them into conflicts. They don’t deserve that. And this chess game is what you get. And frankly, you seem to have “bigger” issues in your department.

    I have a volunteer who helps me in my office. From day one, I have said to her that “it’s not that I don’t want you to be privy to things, it’s that I don’t want you to be burdened with things. You’re here to do good work and you deserve to be shielded from the nonsense.”  She’s taken that to heart and now when I have a conversation with someone in front of her and it gets a bit deep, she excuses herself before I have a chance to, and she laughingly says, “I don’t need to be a part of this.” Bravo!

    So, when staff thinks they’re being nice or cute or they just want some pawns in their game of complaints, they need to realize that fraternizing might be great for them, but it’s always a bad idea for the volunteers. Let the volunteers see the greatness of the organization, not the back room where stuff is all chaos and disjointed. And if staff want to grouse about their jobs, then make sure that “girls’ night out” is with staff girls, not volunteers.

    -Meridian

  • The Yin and the Yang

    I’m thinking about a volunteer, Barney who took orientation six months ago. Barney is a retired welder, a Vietnam veteran, a gruff guy who rides his motorcycle everywhere, even in the cold. In orientation he stuck out like a firecracker on a birthday cake. I honestly didn’t think he would do any volunteering. Silly me, I looked at the wrapper of him, not the Pastrami sandwich inside.

    Boy, was I wrong. Barney has turned out to be a “go to” volunteer. He accepts pretty much anything we ask of him, provided he has the time. He quietly takes his assignment with honor, then does it justice. I look at him and think of the archeologist, who spends weeks tirelessly digging, then finds an object covered with aged debris. The object is a find once dusted off and the search was worth it.

    Turns out Barney has a hidden talent that he never mentioned and frankly, I never would have guessed. He can play the harmonica. He started playing for one nursing home patient  and now they all ask for him. His bluesy New Orleans stylings get the fingers tapping, the mouths turned up in smiles, the eyes closed. He transports, soothes and frees. To step into a room filled with Barney’s music is to pierce the intimate bubble.

    I called Barney the other day just to thank him. Words were not coming easy to me. “Hey thanks for playing the harmonica, it’s really cool,” I could say or “Your music is just so inspiring, the patients feel like they’re floating in space.” How lame.

    Since I had nothing profound, I decided to just call and say hi. Barney answered the phone and said, “I’m really glad you called. I’ve been meaning to call you. I just wanted to thank you and everyone else for allowing me to volunteer. I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

    Barney went on to hint that he has not had an easy time since Vietnam. He hinted at some periods of darkness and compared his self-image now to light. I never really got to make a phone speech about how much his volunteering means to us. It would have been, well, lame.

    What do we get with volunteers? We get them, the yin and the yang of them. I silently wept for Barney’s past hurts and took comfort in his present. Perhaps when Barney plays his harmonica, our patients feel the complexity of him and they can relate.

    I am so humbled that he has chosen to give with us. I think our patients see the yin and yang of Barney and take comfort in his “realness”. Realness is what they crave, not plastered smiles of a “do-gooder.”

    Is there joy without pain? Are there great volunteers without personal tragedy? Or are great volunteers really human complexities with heart?

    -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

     

  • The Math of It

    It’s a sickness, but I’m always looking for ways to mathematically quantify the impact of volunteers. The most common way of course is tracking how many volunteers and how many service hours. How about we get creative and  track “well this volunteer, based on his moving volunteer experience told his neighbor who then spoke to her mom in another state who mentioned it at her bridge game and one of her partners’ husbands needed help and so she went home and called hospice right away.” Try and measure that chain of events. If you can, please let me know, because I’d quantify that in a heartbeat!

    The other day, I, along with a volunteer, spoke to a group of university students who were taking a therapeutic writing course. Our volunteer, Grace approached this professor, thinking that we could snag a few volunteers from her class. Grace records life stories with our patients and is always looking for volunteers to help. We’ve seen the great interaction between the students and the older patients and love the whole intergenerational pairing.

    And so we presented our program to the class, peppering our talk with lots of anecdotes from experience. To their credit, they were polite listeners, and asked some really meaningful questions.

    The day after we received an email from the professor. Although it will be very difficult for the students to interview our patients (schedules, transportation-the usual things that unfortunately get in the way) they would like to partner with us.

    The professor thanked us profusely. It appears that after we had gone, the students opened up about their grandparents. Many wished they had spent more time with them and had learned more about their stories. Most had fascinating grandparents with experiences in the great depression, World War II and Korea, and difficulties immigrating and assimilating into a new country. It seems, for them, therapeutic writing took on a whole new meaning.

    Ok, so now what? Well, we are going to find a way to partner. What that means is, though, we will spend the time with them without any volunteer assistance in return. Shocker. So, I can’t record any hours or add any new volunteers. Oh well. These young people are vibrant and just being around them makes me feel useful. So what if I can’t find a way to record these hours spent. (I can’t believe I’m saying that! No! There has to be a formula there!)

    But, someday, somewhere down the line, one of those students will have grown up and while taking his kids to school, the thought will dawn on him that he needs to give back and he will think about his experience in the classroom and his local hospice will get a really good volunteer.

    And somehow, somewhere in my perfect little analytical world, the volunteer coordinator will call me up and tell me that and I will put a hash mark down on my mad scientist type of graph and proclaim loudly “AHA!”

    That’s if I’m around that long…

    -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

  • It’s Kinda Cozy Under the Bus

    Thrown under the bus? Yeah, I feel like I have a permanent place under there sometimes. I’ve moved a coffee pot and a few magazines right next to the driver’s tire, just to make it home-like.

    Jenny is an episodic volunteer and a teacher at a local elementary school. She is one of those “busy brain” people, creative, always imagining. I’m sure her kids just love her. She’s been wanting to help our hospice for quite a while and myself in particular. She confided in me that she’d like to work for us someday when she retires, which will be in about 5 years. I’m thinking, hey, ok, no problem, you are welcome to apply anytime.

    So Jenny meets with me and says she will be glad to do some recruiting. This is great because she has a lot of contacts through PTA and other teachers. We come up with a great plan and a schedule of meetings for us to track the results. In her new enthusiasm, she has come up with several ideas, all of which we have already implemented, but that’s ok. She’s on the right track.

    We meet once and Jenny goes off to create a plan. I give her free rein. Our next meeting she can’t make and the next. She is busy. That’s ok, I know that nothing new ever starts smoothly. But now, school is starting and she is really busy. Again, that’s ok, we can work slowly. I figure everything is fine. I tell her to let me know when she has time and we will meet at her convenience. She apologizes for blowing me off and says she will carve some time out soon.

    So, the other day, one of our marketing representatives stops by. She asks me about a volunteer named Jenny. “Hmmm, why do you ask?” I return politely.
    It seems our executive director happened to run into Jenny at the school where Jenny teaches. Our director’s nephew is enrolled there. According to the marketing rep, Jenny filled our director’s ear with her perceived lack of volunteer recruitment in her area and added “I am trying to help get some recruitment programs off the ground, but I’m not getting much support.”

    Ah, I can feel the tires crushing me now. The marketing rep goes on to say that Jenny also told our director that “no one in my community knows about hospice services. It’s such a shame. I would love to help get the word out for you.”

    So, now the marketing rep is annoyed with me because we all know volunteer managers can control everything volunteers do. I love it when one person out of hundreds or thousands makes an offhand comment and that comment represents reality. How do you combat that? Get a petition out and prove them wrong? Get angry and berate the person that made that observation?

    No, actually, I looked at the marketing rep, whom I do like and respect and offered her a cup of coffee. “Be careful, there may be a bit of gravel in it. But, isn’t it cozy under here? Welcome, my friend.”

    -Meridian

     

  • So You Don’t Think You Make A Difference

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    -Meridian

  • 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

  • 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