volunteerplaintalk

Tag: volunteers

  • The Incredible Shrinking Volunteer

    incredible-shrinking-manLately I’ve been reading stats about volunteering. Ok, they’re not in the “To Kill a Mockingbird” league, but they do tell a story and they have a lovely way of lulling me to sleep. Some surveys say volunteering is up, others say volunteering is down. Demographics are tricky and of course, one has to define “volunteering”, which is like defining spirituality or “that color the coffee turns when I put the right amount of french vanilla creamer in there…. wait, no, stop, that’s it!”
    But, it seems as though when stats tell us that volunteering is down, there are the broad reasons given to explain this: Not enough skills based volunteering opportunities; not enough volunteer jobs to offer and not enough flexibility. Hmmmmm, good reasons, ones which seem to blame the volunteer manager for not providing the best experience. The conclusions of these surveys oftentimes dust off their hands with some quick advice about creating a better volunteer atmosphere. It seems so simple, but I think there’s a few more reasons to throw in based on conversations I’ve had with prospective volunteers and folks who recoil like they’re touching a third rail when they walk by my booth at a fair.

    Martha sat, tears in her eyes, as I had to tell her that we could not accept her as a volunteer. “But, she said, “I’ve turned my life around, you can see that, because I’ve been out of trouble for the past six years.” I could see that, it was plain from looking at her background check. I could feel it too, she wasn’t just saying some lines she memorized. She had some really serious issues six and seven years before, but had stayed completely out of trouble recently. I lobbied to take her, keep her away from clients, but higher decision makers than I said no. Martha looked at me, and asked me, her eyes fixed on my face as I now represented all the employers and volunteer organizations that had rejected her. “How am I supposed to get a fresh start when nobody will take a chance on me?”
    I still have an emotional scar from that encounter and every time I have to dismiss a volunteer due to a background check, that scar aches. I don’t know if our volunteers realize how much we care about them and about their well-being, even if we cannot accept them. Martha, I want you to know that.

    Then there’s Thad, who represents so many of the prospective volunteers. “I can’t go into someone’s home,” he says in horror. “What if they accuse me of stealing something?” Or Kelly who says, “I’m not too eager to work with people I don’t know.” Or Joyce who says, “I won’t go into neighborhoods I’m not familiar with.” For these volunteers, the comfort of an office job close to the volunteer manager or organization staff keeps them coming back, but leaves vital volunteer jobs unfilled.
    When folks come to us to volunteer and they do not wish to fill the slots that are critical, we have a choice: Turn them away or somehow fit them into the spot they prefer. Then, when organizational staff complain to us that we say we have volunteers, but none for the clients, we try to explain that not every volunteer is willing to do every job. Staff then shakes their heads and wonders “why can’t you just recruit some?.”
    Volunteers watch the news, read and engage in social media, and speak to family, friends and neighbors. They form opinions about what they are willing to do. We can encourage them, cultivate them, go with them to a client’s home, but ultimately, they know they can reject a job. Sometimes volunteers will grow into positions and these volunteers are usually fantastic in their new roles.
    Prospective volunteers tell me, “I’ve had to go back to work,” “my family needs help right now,” “I need to move closer to a daughter who lost her job,” “my wife is sick,” “I’m having health issues,” “I’m just not emotionally ready yet,” etc. etc.
    Because we, unlike our human resources counterparts, cannot just “hire” a volunteer for a job, we have to creatively fill each position while juggling the creation of new positions for volunteers who decide they’d rather not do the work we may need the most.
    I remember Bill who wanted so badly to fill the toughest of needs, but ended up opting for the cocoon of the home office. Was Bill’s volunteering any less because of that? No, of course not. All volunteer roles are vital.
    However, behind the scenes, we, volunteer managers struggle with filling important positions for any number of reasons. I’ve tried so many ways to entice volunteers to fill certain needs. I’ve guilted, humored, begged, rearranged, incentivized, romanticized, promised temporary status and so on. Many times it works, but not always. I know that finding the right volunteer for the right job is critical, so I slog it out, recruiting from within and without.

    And I would say to all those reports that conclude with suggestions that if we, volunteer managers just offer more leadership roles, create more meaningful positions and bend our flexibility just a bit more, volunteers will come rolling in: Come down and do this job for awhile and you will see that it is much more complex than that.
    And to Martha: I know in my heart that you would have gone into a client’s home and would have done a fantastic job. Somewhere, there’s a client waiting for a volunteer like you, and somewhere you are waiting for a chance to prove yourself.
    -Meridian

  • The Volunteer Manager Mind or Volunteer Beef Wellington

    6-human-needsAfter all these years, I still believe that everyone has the potential to help, that anyone is capable of becoming a great volunteer. I still think that each and every person who expresses just a hint of maybe perhaps it might be possible sometime later if I kinda sorta could be interested for only a wee bit of time is going to be the next volunteer of the year. How do I know that I truly deep in my soul believe this or am I just fooling myself? I truly know this because I know how my mind works.
    See, my mind and I, we’ve gotten used to living with each other. It reminds me that I can’t take that fork from the restaurant and I yell at it because it forgets names, places and where I put my stress ball.
    So I know I sincerely see everyone as volunteers reaching their potential because as I speak to them I get this visual. I sort of see their edges starting to sparkle, kind of like the way an excel spreadsheet cell sparkles when you hit copy. Then the volunteer, as they are talking, becomes a pseudo butcher’s diagram of their parts. Those parts are their skills, their interests, their personalities, their experience, their mindset, their availability, their aversions, their hidden dreams, their motivations, their personalities, quirks, etc. Then my pal, the mind, as it holds the sparkling cuts of volunteer, travels into the mind’s kitchen where it starts to look at all the available ingredients for this volunteer recipe. Hmmm, a dash of Tuesdays, with a sprinkling of creative license and some fresh clients that need a singer who studied in Paris and loves to draw pictures of cats on bicycles. Voila!

    These volunteer diagrams are like the first ingredient in a fine recipe. Just as each part of a butcher’s diagram represents a steak or rib or filet which is the basis for hundreds of dishes like hamburgers and pot roast, our volunteer diagram represents the potential of the volunteer.
    Now here’s the volunteer manager part: All the other ingredients in this unique volunteer recipe come from our ability to catalog and store vast amounts of extraneous ingredients in our mind’s kitchen. We remember that a client grew up in Hungary and loves baseball. We tuck away snips of conversations in the cabinets of our mind. A senior manager muses that it would be nice to see volunteers take part in a holiday chorus, or a staff member tells us how he could occasionally use a volunteer who is adept at stats.
    We may overhear a snippet of a conversation about someone who wants to donate craft supplies. We shelve that near the knowledge that a student group wants to volunteer to help seniors who live alone. So when that new volunteer, Jamie sits down for an interview and we really start to get to know her, that sparkly edged diagram begins to appear. Jamie, a retired accountant who wants to give back to seniors, shares that she used to teach preschool while finishing her degree and says that it was one of her favorite experiences. Later in the conversation, Jamie shares that she relaxes by scrap booking and belongs to a craft group. Suddenly, those pieces of the diagram become the basis for a spectacular creation. Jamie is paired with the students and the donated goods. Jamie is the main ingredient in a recipe called “Project Senior/Student Crafting.”
    Obviously, it is not that easy. Pieces of good ideas can languish for a long time. Everyday, we integrate volunteers into our organizations. But as we go about our everyday jobs, recruiting, retaining, and cultivating volunteers while filling a wide variety of requests and needs, we also stock bits and pieces of information in the spice cabinet of our minds.
    And when those ingredients come together in a perfect way, I’m thinking it’s got to be similar to a chef creating a new signature dish.
    As volunteer managers, we may often feel more like a short order cook in a non-stop busy diner, but in our hearts and minds we are that chef who sees the potential in every ingredient.
    And when that new volunteer dish is savored by the people we are helping, we can step back, wipe the flour from our face and bask in the moment.
    -Meridian

  • Did You Steal My Idea?

    toddler cell phoneI was reading the Sunday paper and came across an article on a local man who volunteers. It was the predictable template that press articles post about a volunteer who has spent five decades shelving library books or is still volunteering at the age of 100.
    I always read these volunteer articles as though I might be a prospective volunteer interested in the organization referenced. Sadly, not one article has actually piqued my interest and I highly doubt that new volunteers are beating down the doors after they read another article entitled “Volunteer turns 99, wants to keep volunteering when she reaches 100.” (Guess I know what article I’ll be reading a year from now).
    I’ve been involved with articles on volunteers I’ve worked with and truly you can get down on your knees and beg and it doesn’t make a bit of difference, the paper is going to print what they think should be printed, including misquotes, incorrect stats and just plain made up drivel. I’ve seen articles that were not too bad, articles that were ok and ones that were just lousy. I have to admit, there is a certain thrill seeing my volunteers in print and I hope that the next day at work is filled with the sound of telephones ringing off the hook, but typically that doesn’t happen. So, once again, volunteer managers are at the mercy of something we cannot control: Press coverage.
    But this article made me think back to several years ago when I did a speaking engagement at Busy Bee, a woman’s sewing group. I wanted to recruit the group to sew quilts or keepsake bears or a new project I was working on. The vice president of Busy Bee told me the ladies really wanted to get involved and help. I thought we could forge a great partnership and so I practiced my talk, gathered sample bears and quilts and quotes and personal stories that would surely sway them into stopping all their other charity work and concentrate on our clients exclusively. (Ok, that is a bit of an over exaggeration, but sometimes I just fantasize a bit).
    I arrived early, walked around the room, saying hello and admiring their work, all the while hoping they didn’t think I was working them like a smarmy politician kissing babies. Honestly, they did amazing work and after my talk, I asked if they would like to start a brand new project. Because they seemed interested, I told them about an idea I had to make small lap autograph quilts for nursing home residents. I asked their help in identifying whether a fabric pen could be used to write messages of love and encouragement on a light-colored fabric as one of the quilt squares and they got rather excited and helped formulate how it could be done.
    I left there stoked and they said they would call me when they were ready to get started. I drove away convinced that we would make great partners. When they did not call, I called the vice president and left a message. I called again and left another. I never did hear and so I chalked it up to “oh well, I was just delusional” or “they were just placating me.” Then, a few months later, I was reading the Sunday paper and there was an article about Busy Bee and in the article they mentioned that one of the projects they were doing was my autograph quilt. I dropped the page. What? I read it again. What? They stole my idea! At first I was highly incensed and thought, hey, come Monday I’m calling them up and demanding to know who they were doing this for and what happened to ethical behavior? I stewed all Sunday afternoon and promised myself to take care of it the next day. Of all the nerve.
    When Monday came, I searched through all my contacts and found the one for Busy Bee’s vice president. I called her and she answered. I told her who I was and that I read the article in the Sunday paper.
    “Oh, you did, it was a good article, wasn’t it?”
    I told her it was and then as gently as I could I reminded her of my visit and idea to do the lap quilts.
    “Oh,” she said, “that was you, was it? Well, when we didn’t hear from you, we decided to make the quilts anyway and we found another place to accept them. They’re doing quite well.”
    I was about to argue and tell her that I had followed up, but I stopped. I realized it would do no good and so I asked if her group would be willing to make some quilts for us.
    “Sure,” she said, just drop by and I’ll give you some.”
    Of course you know that there were none available when I dropped by. Yeah, I waited another six months and tried calling again. No response.
    Sometimes, you can make a contact with one person from a group and they are all excited to work with you, but then, another member of the group who has more clout will snatch their participation away faster than a mom grabbing the new cellphone from the dirty hands of her two year old.
    Groups, I’ve learned are complex. They are run by all types of hierarchies and no two are the same and so, enlisting their help takes a great deal of discovery, patience and finesse, all of which I did not use when trying to partner with Busy Bee. Groups’ loyalty is first and foremost to the group and sometimes the dominant member of the group has a friend in an organization so that is the only organization they will work with. Groups are really about individual personalities within that shape the group. I knew a group that volunteered for an organization and then accepted donations from the organizations’ clients. Yep, group first because the president of that group said it was “only fair”.
    So, I let the whole autograph quilt thing go and found another pair of volunteers to begin the project. And, I wished the agency that receives the Busy Bee quilts well.
    After all, knowing groups, some day I may get to steal a group away too!
    -Meridian

  • Upstairs, Downstairs Priming

    cinderella_cleaningHannah is a volunteer coordinator at a large hospital system. She oversees many programs, from the gift shop volunteers to pet therapy, afghan makers and information desk greeters. On any given day, twenty to thirty volunteers are at their posts or participating in behind the scene projects. The hospital auxiliary raises tens of thousands of dollars from their gift shop and other volunteer run activities. And yet, Hannah says she is never invited to any upper level planning meetings, but rather is given edicts that are discussed and formulated by her superiors. “I’d love to put my two cents in before they ask for something I know will be difficult to pull off like the time they wanted me to find volunteers to personally deliver the flowers from local florists as they arrived at the front desk. Since I couldn’t pull a greeter off the desk and I couldn’t ask a volunteer to just sit around and wait for an occasional driver to show up, it was a request that made no sense. I tell my supervisor that I would like a seat at planning sessions so I can be proactive and he shrugs and says he’ll see what he can do. And then, he comes back with something new. Meanwhile all the programs that are running smoothly are just forgotten, like they take no special skill or work to keep them running. Sometimes, I feel like a character in Upstairs Downstairs, that great British show about housemaids and servants.”
    Sadly, Hannah feels invisible. Her work, however, is quite visible, and just as the old white glove test catches no dust, her diligent and relentless pursuit of excellence gleams spotless in her array of well run programs. Hannah’s job is to provide volunteers for support and programs, so do her superiors see Hannah as more than that? Does excellence always beget a voice?
    The answer, I think is quite subtle and has to do with the notion of “priming” and association. Does anyone associate volunteer coordinators with upper management? Do organizations automatically look to volunteer staff as go-to people for fresh, new ideas on solving organizational needs? Or, are we viewed as the house servants, not too terribly bright, hard workers for certain, but not privy to paradigms, theories and marketing strategies? Are we consistently overlooked because we are associated with small tasks, not large concepts? Hmmmm, and do we sometimes shoot ourselves in the proverbially feet because we dress and act the part we are associated with?
    “I’m tired of being overlooked,” Hannah continued, “as though I have no worthwhile input. Does my management team not see the number of human beings I manage, the amount of skill and forward thinking it takes to keep up with the changing world of unpaid help? Clearly they have no clue as to the nuances of leadership involved in engaging people in our mission. It’s so frustrating,” Hannah vented. She speaks for many of us, who have been associated with the erroneously simple skills it takes to manage volunteers. The very title, “volunteer coordinator” speaks to the simplicity of telling people where to be on any given day. Ho Hum, must be time to shop on my PC, because there’s really not much to do. The intricate weaving of a vast resource of management skills is not how we are viewed and so, upper management is “primed” to think we plan tea parties and swap recipes with compliant little while haired ladies.
    Hannah sighs. “I’m working hard on changing upper management’s minds about my job and the worth of our volunteers beyond just filling slots. I envision the day when vibrant volunteer help is valued and I am valued for finding and engaging that help. It’s a tall order, but it has to work. I can’t see myself being relegated to the downstairs forever.”
    Volunteer leaders like Hannah will eventually change the landscape of volunteer management. Is it going to be easy? No, because think about all the “Cinderella stories” about servants or low-level workers rising to the top. There is still the residual thought that those stories are just “flukes.” It’s going to take a concerted effort on all our parts to change the mindset of “Upstairs, Downstairs.”
    Can we do it? Heck yeah, we’re used to hard work and challenges.
    As for me, I’m “primed” and ready to fight.
    -Meridian

  • Of All Things, Teeth Cleaning

    SONY DSCI just got my teeth cleaned. After Corey, the hygienist and I catch up on each other, I kinda use the time to close my eyes and think, usually about all the things I’ve forgotten to do. But this time, I was looking into my Corey’s eyes above her mask, backlit by that huge bulb. Those eyes look sad, I thought.
    “What’s going on” I asked before she could put her fingers into my mouth. Her eyes jumped, puzzled. “What do you mean,” she asked, her hands retreating.
    “You seem, I don’t know…”
    “Tired?”
    “Yes, maybe.”
    “I’m not sleeping much,” she admitted.
    “Why’s that?”
    “I don’t know, just so much work and it’s exhausting and I go home so so tired. Maybe it’s just the weather.” Her fingers came back.
    Unable to ask more in words not garbled, I closed my eyes and my mind starting to drift, like a thought canoe down the Amazon River of figuring things out. I’d seen those eyes before, but where? The thought canoe continued to float through the heavy waters and I searched the shores of memories for answers, but I did not recognize anything slithering along the shore. The thought canoe drifted with the current and then a vibrant image flew into view. I’ve seen those eyes on volunteers, who were burnt out from so much taking in of strangers’ pain and suffering. Their volunteer eyes, ringed with the emotions trapped within, sometimes silently pleaded with me to give them a break and allow them to see the sun for a bit. I recalled volunteer Marie, who looked so bone weary one day I asked her to sit and talk. She confided that her husband was just diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. The patient she volunteered for had Alzheimer’s and was an emotionally difficult case. Volunteer Jim’s eyes flew into view when he had four patients die in rapid succession. These volunteers wore the emotional toll on their faces. Corey’s eyes spoke volumes. She was bone weary, but why? I thought about her job and I saw her superimposed over the many volunteers and staff and bartenders and hairdressers and all the professions that hear so much. Corey’s job required her to be calming, gentle, soothing and that demeanor made her very much like the volunteers I work with everyday.
    When the polishing stopped, I sat up, my mouth now mine to use. “Corey, do you hear a lot of stories from your patients?”
    “Why yes, they all tell me things about their lives and sometimes they must have some really tough procedures and I just feel for them. Some can’t afford what they need and they tell me why. It’s sad.”
    “What do you do with those stories, I mean, you, personally?”
    Her eyes were puzzled, wary. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Do you go home and think about them?
    “Oh, yes, all the time, my husband thinks I’m crazy, but I can’t help it. There are people who have hardships in their lives, people who have bad things happen to them. Sometimes I find myself thinking about them at bedtime and my mind just won’t quiet.”
    Corey knows I work with volunteers. I told her about how we try to help our volunteers be able to purge so that they don’t think about death all the time. I told her that she, like our volunteers spends intimate time with her patients and they naturally open up to her and that she is taking in, absorbing their pains and frustrations. I told her I tell volunteers that in order to be successful, they have to learn how to empty their vessels of compassion or else they will suffer, both mentally and physically.
    “How do you know this?” she asked, as she put the tools down.
    “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the effects of it. I’ve seen great volunteers become so immersed in a patient’s life that they infect their own. I’ve seen volunteers with the weight of the world on their shoulders who become inert because they can’t think about one more tragic circumstance. You’re not alone, Corey. You and all the hygienists here and everywhere are not alone in this.”
    “But what do I do? What do your volunteers do?”
    “They learn to be with someone 100% when with them and not 20% when they are not. Do you think that your worrying about your patients at night at home helps them?”
    “No, I don’t suppose it does.”
    “Do you think that your listening as someone who cares helps them?”
    “Oh yes, I do think so, they tell me.”
    “Then do you think that your listening to them has to translate into worrying about them later? And does that worrying help you be with your family or does it keep you at work?”
    She thought for a moment. “I don’t know, but I see what you’re saying.”
    At the end of the appointment, Cory hugged me and thanked me for listening to her, although I felt like I might have lectured her. I sure hope not.
    See, the lessons we learn and share with our volunteers can be shared with anyone. These are life lessons, lessons in living, lessons in character, lessons in survival and lessons in humility. We, volunteer managers, can throw it out to the world and if the world wants to hear, then fine. We typically do not hoard the knowledge we’ve gained, just like we don’t hoard volunteering. We invite everyone to participate, to grow and learn and to teach us, because I believe that we are knowledge junkies and perhaps in some small way, we can share the things we have learned with our volunteers, other staff, family and friends and even the hygienist with the weary eyes.
    -Meridian

  • Should I Be Crying?

    cry-your-heart-out-1Last week, I was talking to a brand new volunteer manager, who has been on the job for three months. I’m ashamed to say, but I’ve completely forgotten what it is like to be new to volunteer management, so listening to Amber talk about her experiences was enlightening. “I really love working with the volunteers,” she said. “They’re so, well, good.” She went on to say that the person who trained her, Simone, retired a month before. “Everyone loved Simone,” Amber mused. “They all came to her going away party. It was obvious the affection they had for Simone and she had been there for so long, that everything has her stamp on it. Replacing her is proving to be a tall order. I can see the volunteers trying hard to not compare me to Simone, but at times they just can’t help it. Simone was really great in helping me get to know the volunteers and for the most part they have welcomed me, but I know they miss her.”
    Amber continued, “Just after Simone left, I had this volunteer, John come into see me. Evidently he was given an assignment by Simone and I just didn’t know I was supposed to follow-up with him. He was really mad and started berating me for not following up. I was so taken aback, I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there and took it. But it really shook me up.”
    Then Amber’s voice trembled. “I have to admit, I was so upset, I started to cry. I think all of it, the enormity of what I need to do, the aloneness I feel and then the yelling at me just overtook me. I went home and cried. Should I feel like this, I mean, should I be crying? Is this how it’s going to be?”

    When you get used to the workload, learn to be kind but professional, cease to take things personally and develop your own methods of working with diverse populations of volunteers, the hard introductions to this profession are easily forgotten. As we grow into our roles, we become volunteer managers, or better yet, leaders of volunteers. As our passion overtakes our trepidations and our comfort levels increase, we become the people our volunteers need us to be. And we put away the tough times we had when we first started. I wanted Amber to know that.

    Here’s what I told her:
    On my bulletin board is a note from the daughter of a former volunteer. It is an well worn note, wrinkled, dusty some, a frozen piece of time from when I wondered if I was in the right job. At that time, I was feeling that so much was being asked of me, so much was expected without resources or help. Everyday requests were weights on my weary shoulders. Volunteers who said no disappointed me. I didn’t have a smile handy for anyone.
    And then the note came. It was a scribbled phone message. It read, “Call Jessica, daughter of Ben Chapman.” Ben Chapman was a volunteer who had moved away to live with his daughter about seven years before. I hadn’t heard from him in a long time. With heavy heart, I called Jessica who informed me that Ben had died two days earlier. I had known this instinctively, as if we still had the long thin thread of connection. Ben was one of my all time favorite volunteers, a man who made me laugh and inspired me with his love for family, muscle cars and animal jokes. His persona would arrive before he did, like joyful radio waves filling a room. When he left to live with his daughter because of early Alzheimer’s, a song ended.
    Jessica wanted me to know that he had died peacefully in the arms of his family. She told me how much his volunteering had meant to him, how much he loved coming, how much he felt a part of something meaningful. After all this time had passed, she thought I should know.
    I told Amber that her moments would come, those moments that only she would feel and know way down in her soul that she was making a difference. I told her that she would experience long-lasting connections, the triumphs of pairing the right volunteer with the right clients, and the gratitude of a daughter who loved her father. I told her that she would orchestrate the ripples that move soundless across helping waters and that her diligence will give her volunteers buoyancy. I couldn’t lie to Amber. I told her that there would be days when it felt like no one understood, no one appreciated the quiet work or the persistent trying. Those days however, would be overshadowed by notes from a daughter and I asked her to keep her notes close by to reminder her.
    And, I told her, you will acutely feel a myriad of emotions. Yes, you will cry, from frustration and sometimes anger, but mainly from being touched so deeply, you didn’t know you had those places open.
    -Meridian

  • Volunteering’s Big But

    spaghettiChad is a volunteer for a public school system. A retired engineer, he has been working with students in the same fourth grade classroom for many years. Chad loves the challenge of helping students better understand complex math and he oftentimes serves as a surrogate grandfather. The kids call him “Chaddie”, a name that stuck because of his chatty nature. Jorge, the current fourth grade teacher chuckles when he speaks about Chad. “His enthusiasm is awesome and the kids love him. He has a great rapport with the kids and he certainly knows the subject inside and out. Sometimes though, he has these great ideas and he wants me to implement them, like for instance, he wanted to start a fundraiser for kids who couldn’t afford these cool extra math books and I told him, look, Chad, every fundraiser has to go through the PTA. We just can’t make up our own fundraisers. Chad can’t see that, he doesn’t deal with the bureaucracy like I do and frankly he shouldn’t have to because he’s a volunteer. When I tell him that we have to go through channels, he gets disappointed and says, ‘but the kids need it now.’ Sometimes I think he thinks I just don’t want to help him, and that’s not it. It gets frustrating when there are things out of my hands and a volunteer sort of argues with me. I get butted a lot because I don’t have the authority to just make things happen. I wish I could.”

    Marie volunteers in a large nursing home. She is new to the facility and her activities director, Anna is happy to have her. “Marie is great, she sings to the residents and helps us with our activities twice a week, so we are really, really thankful. I think, though, because she’s new, she really doesn’t understand the tremendous rules and regulations we are under. Marie wants to be overly involved with some of the residents and is sometimes meddlesome in their family affairs. I try to explain to her that we have rules in place and really I wish she would just stick with singing and doing activities. She wants to do more and says, ‘but these people need more help.’ I can’t really disagree with her and yet, I can’t give her the green light to get involved. It’s difficult to explain to her and I don’t want to lose her. It’s frustrating.”

    I was at a meeting with a group of volunteers last week. Each volunteer was reporting progress on their activities and when we came to Stan, who is a relatively new volunteer, Stan had a list in his hand. See, Stan brought his fresh ideas with him in a wheelbarrow of enthusiasm. He wanted to create a volunteer marketplace, kinda like a craigslist for volunteers. He wanted the organization to purchase camcorders to record volunteers in action, and on and on. “But, I’m a man who gets things done, he proclaimed and I smiled. Clearly I should be frustrated, but I wasn’t.

    See, in the old days, these “buts” would frustrate the heck out of me. I would try to patiently explain to the unknowing volunteer that things moved slowly, that not all ideas would be accepted, blah, blah, blah. The explaining would frustrate the volunteer, which in turn would frustrate me. I began to picture a child asking a parent why he could not fly and the parent sighing while saying, “because that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” Now, I am in no way comparing a volunteer to a child, but I am comparing their raw enthusiasm to the wonderment in a child’s eyes. Volunteers who sign up to help do so with the wonderment of providing meaningful work. We, the volunteer managers are often put in the position of quashing that enthusiasm by dumping the spaghetti bowl of rules and policies on their heads. How sad, for them, for us and for the clients who would benefit from that sense of wonderment.

    I’ve heard a lot of buts: “But it’s the right thing to do,” “but he needs the help,” “but who will know,” “but what’s the big deal” and “but are we here to help or not?” What’s frustrating now about the buts is for the most part, I agree with them and find myself having to “spin” replies in order to tow the company line, for instance, saying, “It’s a great idea, Stan, but we must go through several committees for approval before we can do anything.” I think our frustration at having to curb enthusiastic volunteers comes more from our own frustration at our respective organization’s spaghetti bowl of rules and policies than from our volunteers wanting to purely help. I think for me, at least, when I hear a volunteer say, “but we should be doing more”, I completely agree.

    Royal_Guardian_Jameson_by_faxtarI often picture volunteer managers in my head as the guardian, shield in hand, protecting the volunteers from the nonsense, aka, the politics of an organization so that the volunteers can comfortably do the pure work. The less nonsense we share with them, the better their experience.
    For my own sanity, I’ve learned to not let the buts frustrate me. Instead, I let the buts carry me back to the days when I was new and full of wonderment. I loved those days and frankly, why should I give them up when they fill me with joy and wonder? I’ve now made it my mission to try and help each volunteer see their idea at least be heard and tried in some form if at all possible. This means I may not get to those reports as quickly or to that pile of paperwork in a timely manner.
    Now, don’t get me wrong, those reports and paperwork are part of my job, but they contain no wonderment at all, do they?
    -Meridian

  • And the Award Goes to…

    kid-with-trophyPeriodically people send me forms to nominate a volunteer for some sort of recognition and award. Immediately I think, “oh good, a chance to showcase the volunteers,” then I start to mentally scroll through the volunteers, looking for that perfect one to nab that coveted engraved plaque. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that the retelling of a volunteer’s deeds is as much a part of their winning as the actual deeds themselves. Their story needs to grab the judge, or it should show the overcoming of the odds, or it needs to be some unusual type of volunteering. It seems as though dismissing the every day volunteering in order to award reality TV type volunteering is the antithesis of good, solid volunteering, but everyday good work is just not very exciting, is it?
    There are any number of volunteers who would make great candidates for that cute trophy, but their day-to-day boring altruism does not quite merit a second look by judges who can’t experience their stories firsthand. These volunteers will never walk up on that podium and never hold that lump of highly polished metal, but in my mind’s eye, they hold so much more.

    So, here and now, I nominate these volunteers for “Heroes Amongst Us.”

    I nominate Madge, for the Hero With Guts award. Madge told me a few weeks ago that she would be cutting down on her volunteering in our crafts program. See, Madge was at a gas station where she met a man, Harold. buying a sandwich. They struck up a conversation in which Harold said that he had just lost his home and was living in his van. Harold appeared to be in his late fifties, and had fallen on hard times after losing a job and dealing with cancer. “He was so honest,” Madge said, “so completely void of complaints that I asked him if he would accept a few dollars from me and he refused. He said he had a bit of savings left, but needed to completely recover from cancer before he could find a job again. And I don’t know what possessed me, but I told him to follow me home, that I had a spare room he could sleep in until he got on his feet.” Madge shook her head at what the rest of the world would perceive as folly and smiled. “His cancer came back with a vengeance. He has no one, so I’m going to care for him until he dies.”

    I nominate Sheri and Paul for the Heroes Who Love More award. Several years ago, Sheri took a job in a large nursing home as a receptionist. Widowed for a number of years, Sheri had raised her four children and was now an empty nester at age 53. Having worked in a corporate world, she wanted to slow down a bit and savor a job that took a different set of people skills. She embraced the residents, and in between duties, spent time listening to each one as they wheeled by her station. “And then one day, I saw him,” Sheri said, her eyes coming alive at the memory, “Paul, a resident with MS. He was being wheeled into the dining room by one of the staff. He looked up at me with the most devilish grin. At that moment, I knew I had to talk to him.” And talk they did. Paul was only 48, a younger man with no family in a sea of another generation’s Big Band Music and Ice Cream Shoppes. They got to know one another in between her phone calls and other duties and Sheri fell in love. “He didn’t belong there, not in my mind,” she said. And so, she married him, took him out of the facility and into her home. That was ten years ago. Sheri and Paul volunteer together. Although they are careful not to take assignments that might physically tax Paul, the two of them are dedicated inspirational volunteers. Paul is one of the funniest men ever and it is easy to see why Sheri lights up when she takes his arm. “We have faith,” she says, “faith in a higher power’s order of things and faith in each other. I don’t know what will come in five or ten years, and I don’t care. We have one another.”

    These are our volunteers. They are folks from down the street, across the bridge and beyond the sea. They look at life as how they fit into the scheme of things, how they can make the world better for unseen children. They cast a wide net of kindness and we are lucky to occupy a small corner of that net.

    There’s Brad, who cared for two wives with debilitating illnesses. When I would talk to him on the phone, he’d be soothing his wife so gently that I couldn’t believe this was the same man who ran a company.
    There’s Simone, who, after volunteering for a single mother, went out and started a small non-profit to help single mothers.
    There’s Ginny, who, at the young age of 17 is helping care for a sick brother while attaining straight A’s in her studies.
    I could go on and on and I bet you can too. What awards will these volunteers ever hold? How many hours helping mankind are not counted and are we, the volunteer manager who sees their kindness spread like cream stirred into coffee, content with just the knowing?

    Volunteer Awards are normally based on what is done. If, instead, awards were based on the core of a volunteer’s being, on who they are, it would be impossible to pick any one person over another. And maybe, that would be the point.
    -Meridian

  • Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!

    mustangThe open door policy, oh boy. If you oversee two or more volunteers, you know what I mean. Volunteer managers pretty much are required to have an open door policy, which is great for keeping informed but is also a killer of productivity. So says Celeste, a volunteer manager who manages more than one hundred diverse volunteers working in a thrift store. Her store is large and is open six days a week. Donations flow through the store all day long, and in between customer service, cashiering, straightening, receiving goods, sorting and pricing, her volunteers are bustling from the moment they arrive to the time they leave.
    “No one can ever question the dedication or work ethic of our volunteers,” Celeste says. “They come in when they have relatives visit them, when they have a slight cold, when they get done with doctors’ appointments. They’re amazing. See, we foster a real sense of team here, and part of that is my open door policy. Believe me, the volunteers are so dedicated, they stop in to check and see if we’ve sold a big-ticket item, or if we’ve got the manpower to sort through that large donation quickly to make sure the good stuff gets to the floor. They even keep lists of customers to call when certain types of items come in, like a particular brand or type of cookware.”
    While it sounds like Celeste has it made, behind the scenes it took a great deal of work to create such a well oiled team of volunteers. And with that team comes the challenges she faces maintaining that team. It’s not like Celeste can go into her tiny back of the store office and watch “Days of Our Lives” while eating power bars and drinking green tea. She, and her volunteers have created a system that works like a fine automobile with Celeste’s availability, encouragement and direction much like the wheels that carry the car.

    With her open door policy though, comes a tiny percentage of volunteers who need more time and space than the others. “I’ve got these two volunteers, Irma and Jean,” Celeste says with a laugh. “They really take the open door policy to a whole new level. It doesn’t matter that I might have someone else in my office, or that I am on the phone, or that I’m really, really busy with bookkeeping, they come in and interrupt me ten times a shift. I think they just have no idea that I don’t have the time for questions like, ‘what happened to that green blouse with the stripes,’ or ‘did you know there’s two identical blue McCoy pottery pieces, how odd is that?’ I suppose it’s a compliment that they feel comfortable with me, but sometimes I feel like the mom who answers her phone and the kids immediately all need attention and start yelling Ma! Ma! Ma!”
    Celeste went on to say, “I’ve heard all the advice from so many people. Close your door, ignore Irma and Jean, leave the office when they are working, interrupt them and politely say that you have work to do, and ask them to please stay out of the office, but it’s easier said than done. Besides, Irma and Jean are great with the customers, and are always willing to work an extra shift when someone calls out. They’re indispensible really, so why shouldn’t I put up with a bit of inconvenience? Heck, I’ve got Joe, who is hard of hearing and makes the customers shout, and Marge, who puts women’s clothes in the men’s section, and Philomena who over prices knick knacks. Oh, and there’s George, who can never seem to remember to turn off the lights and Babe, who can’t see the rips and stains on clothes and puts them out. Am I supposed to nitpick all the volunteers? I can’t do that. We make it through each day with humor and positive thinking, and I appreciate each one of them. And to all those who think that I can make these volunteers eliminate their quirky habits, I say, you have never worked with volunteers. ”
    Ahh ha, how smart Celeste is. If we were to judge our volunteers on their shortcomings we’d have no volunteers. And all that well-meaning advice by those who don’t work with volunteers just does not make sense to us, because we know that perfection does not come without piecing together imperfection. Our volunteer teams are made up of real human beings with gifts and shortcomings. The well oiled machine we produce is vintage. It doesn’t have all the fancy new techie stuff and it may creak here and there and it may take a few minutes to warm up and the windows may hand-roll slowly, but it works. It moves down the street with the air of the artisans who created it. No, our machine was not mass-produced by robots, it was put together with the sweat of the volunteer manager who polished every piece. And in those moments when the throaty sound of that engine revs up, we know that our machine is unique and perfect.

    Let’s face it. A great deal of what we do is a trade-off, and a part of our volunteer’s “pay” is our overlooking of inconvenient things, like the volunteer who interrupts us, the volunteer who needs more of our time, and the volunteer who needs reminding over and over. Should those inconveniences that may look to an outsider like we don’t know how to “control” our volunteers, cause us to lose productive volunteers? I, for one, would rather not lose great volunteers just because they require a little extra of my time.
    Our volunteer teams are created by vision, artisan spirit and a heck of a lot of our time and effort. That well oiled machine is made up of restored parts, and we may have to work harder on some of those parts than others to keep them running properly, but they’re necessary parts.
    I’m off to work now, to drive in my lovingly restored well oiled and polished machine. I may have to do some maintenance and occasionally change out parts or stop for gas, but driving down the street, it is a thing of beauty.
    -Meridian

  • There Are No Shortcuts

    two pathsThere’s one thing every volunteer manager knows. There are no shortcuts to volunteer management. Nope, no easy path, no automatic pilot, no kick back and let it go. No, we actually put some effort into matching volunteers with assignments. Yep, we actually go so far as to try to get as much information on the assignment so that we can not only find the best volunteer, but also to make sure the 80-year-old volunteer who just had knee surgery doesn’t end up standing hours in the hot sun at a health fair.
    We trust our instincts, and our instincts tell us not to take shortcuts, to check, recheck, and then follow-up. It’s called retention, or self-preservation, because if you put some good up front work into volunteers, you hate to lose them because they were given bad directions and instead of arriving at a client’s house, they end up at the wrong house where a “deal” is being made and then they are never seen or heard from again, but their car is fished from the lake three days later.
    The shortcut path of just simply handing volunteer Dave an assignment is fraught with pitfalls. One or two “what am I supposed to be doing, exactly” and “who’s in charge here” and poof! Dave falls off the rope bridge into the piranha infested river of “I quit” below.
    Jolene is a volunteer coordinator for a small hospice. “Recently, we started a pet therapy program,” she said. “I recruited my first volunteer, Beth and her dog, Chick. Beth works for a local veterinarian and has a lot of contacts with the therapy dog groups in our area so I was really pleased to recruit her. When we talked, Beth told me about a few horror stories she’s had trying to take Chick, her black lab, into hospitals.”
    Jolene continued, “I could see that Beth was hesitant about bringing Chick into our program, because she was afraid that we would give her poor directions or ignore her when she needed us, the two things that happened to her on her own. So, I assured her that this would not happen with us and I set up a time to meet her at a nursing home where we see patients. At the time, we were taking care of three patients in this nursing home, I’ll call ‘Shady Rest.’ So I called Shady Rest and asked to speak to the activities director, Deena. Deena took my call and I explained that I would be meeting a pet therapy volunteer at her nursing home and that I would love it if Deena could join us. She agreed. So, a week later, I pulled up at Shady Rest a bit early so that I could talk to Deena about any pitfalls like residents that might be afraid of a dog and so forth. I walked into the nursing home and there was no one at the reception desk. I stood for a moment, and nodded to the few residents sitting in the lobby and then walked around a corner to find someone to ask where Deena’s office was. I found a woman in an office on the phone, who pointed and said, ‘down the hall’, so I headed down the hallway, looking for a sign. I found the activities room, but it was locked up and the lights were off, so I returned to the lobby. There was still no receptionist, so I returned to the lady in the office who had directed me and she agreed to page Deena. I went out to the lobby again, checked my watch and sat down and waited. A few minutes later, the lady from the office came out and said that Deena was really busy right now, but to go ahead and visit the patients.
    As I was listening, I kept thinking about Beth and how she would have perceived all this if she had come alone for the first time. This was probably the kind of experience she had already. I was so glad I was there to walk with her down this path. By the time Beth arrived with Chick, I had scoped out all the patients’ rooms, had found a place where other residents were gathered and talked to a few of the staff. I walked with Beth through the facility and we had a decent time. Deena managed to come out for a few minutes to introduce herself so that was good. Beth felt comfortable enough to decide that she could come once a week and so it was a success. But had I not been there, I can’t imagine that Beth would have stayed long enough to figure things out. Good thing I was there.”
    While volunteers are capable people, they still require specific directions and when they do not receive them, the volunteers will eventually quit. Knowing how much effort goes into recruiting volunteers, we have no time for poor directions or faulty treatment. We’ve all had to apologize to a volunteer who has had a bad experience because their assignment was not properly planned out. We’ve had the morning visits from volunteers who were inconvenienced the day before. Sometimes you just know you need to pick up every phone call and greet with, “Hello, let me begin by apologizing to you right up front.”
    When I try to explain how important clear directions are and why I spend so much time on the check and recheck, I often have staff members ask, “yes, but if the volunteers can’t adapt to a little inconvenience, then they really aren’t meant to volunteer, right?”
    To which I say, “that’s not it at all. Volunteers come to be of help, to know their volunteering has meaning, not only for our clients but to help the burden of overworked staff. Being sent on wild goose chases says to the volunteer, ‘THIS JOB IS NOT THAT IMPORTANT’.”
    Our volunteers are not prima donnas. They don’t look for special treatment. But they are looking for clarity and meaning. It’s the very least we can give them.
    -Meridian