Meg is a volunteer coordinator for a large health care system that specializes in patient rehabilitation. Her volunteers are involved in several programs, from spiritual care, and palliative listening to working with dementia patients. Meg is the lead volunteer coordinator with twelve years of experience. Recently, the marketing department contacted Meg and told her that they wanted “some volunteers” to be filmed in a short infomercial.
“They didn’t give me a date nor time and place,” she said. “I emailed them repeatedly for concrete directions, but I never got an answer. Finally, one of the marketing staff. Gwen, came down at 4pm on a Wednesday and said they were ready to shoot Friday at 9am in our location. What do you need? I asked her and she told me they wanted volunteers working with a mock patient in a rehab room.”
Meg sighed. “Gwen did however ask for our pet therapy volunteer, Sam, who owns Polo, a beautiful golden retriever. Gwen told me she loved that dog and how beautiful the dog would look on camera. So, I spent most of my Thursday pleading with volunteers to come to the shoot.”
Meg paused. “You know how volunteers are. The don’t want to be on camera. But I got six volunteers, including Sam to agree to come in and be filmed.
Friday came and I arrived early,” Meg continued. “I had fruit and coffee set up for the volunteers. They began arriving, Sam and Polo, Jerri who does amazing work journal keeping with patients, Clive and Betty, a couple who sing to patients, Jeravani, an international student who is studying physical therapy and Amelia, a volunteer who specializes in art. They were a great mix of volunteers. I gave a lot of thought to how volunteers would present on camera and I have to admit, this was a diverse group of excellent representatives. I was thinking the infomercial might encourage others to volunteer.”
Meg went on, “9 arrived and we waited and then 9:30 and still we waited. I could see the volunteers checking their watches. They had places to be. At about 10, Gwen found us and said they were ready to start filming. Biting my tongue, I stood up and waved my hand over the group of fantastic volunteers sipping coffee and started to introduce them, but she stopped me and very nonchalantly said that the crew was behind schedule and that there was only time for, as she put it, ‘the dog shot.’”
I could feel the anger and frustration in Meg’s voice and she went on, “I looked at Gwen, stunned. I motioned for her to join me outside the room, out of earshot of the volunteers. You mean our volunteers came in for nothing? And Gwen basically said, ‘we don’t have time for any extra shots because we already have more than enough. Sorry, just tell them thank you and maybe another time.’”
Meg snorted an angry laugh. “yeah, I wanted to say, why don’t YOU tell them and why don’t YOU apologize profusely and why don’t YOU waste half a day trying to cajole people for nothing? No, you get to walk away, damage done and think nothing of it.” Meg stopped to take a breath. “It just makes me so angry!”
Meg recharged. “Then, get this! Sam and Polo? Oh yeah, after I say goodbye and sorry to all the other volunteers, I find Sam and Polo in a mock-up patient room and one of the crew is being filmed holding Polo’s leash! I lost it. I went to Gwen and demanded to know what was going on. She kinda shrugged and said that the film crew set it up that way so for once in my life I stood my ground and said no. I told her that if Sam was not in the shot, then I was going to send them home. I was so mad, I didn’t care.”
I could feel the anger balloon about to burst. “Gwen intervened though and Sam was filmed with Polo. So, at least I won a minor battle.”
Then Meg grew philosophical, the way long time volunteer managers grow. “I wish our volunteers were given the same respect as others in our hospital system. No one would waste the CEO’s time. No one would be so cavalier about marketing’s time. But volunteers? They are a commodity. It’s wrong, just wrong. Although, it did feel so good to stand up for Sam. In fact, it felt great.”
Meg’s voice changed, lifted somehow. “In fact, I think I’ll start doing that more.” The old spark in her voice returned. “Yeah, stand up for what’s right, what do I have to lose? And, maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop being the clean up crew.”
-Meridian
Tag: volunteers
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The Disaster Clean Up Crew
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If Volunteering Were an Olympic Sport
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 -
You Have Reached This Website in Error
We’re so used to the computer prompt when we see it: You are being redirected to another site. “Fine,” we think and we simply ease into the new locale. But did you ever think about why and how we are being redirected? Neither do I, but I think there’s probably a back story there.
Mary is a relatively new volunteer. She came to orientation like a firecracker tossed into a library. Mary introduced herself to everyone in the room before I could slip in my cute little icebreaker. During breaks, the class was talking up a storm. Usually it takes a session or two for that kind of comfort, but with Mary present, we cut to familiarity. She answered questions with stories, asked other participants to add more and before orientation was over, she had everyone’s number. Literally, she had all their phone numbers.
Mary wanted to work with patients and families and so we paired her with a seasoned volunteer, Joyce in a hospice house. “Well, she is chatty,” Joyce reported back. “She really got to know a lot about me.”
“But how did she do with the patients and families?”
“Fine,” Joyce said. “She asked a lot of questions. She seems genuinely interested in the patients’ lives.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s how I viewed Mary as well.’ Her chattiness is unique. She doesn’t chat about herself so much as she chats about your life as she gets to know you. It’s like having a great-grandmother who grills you each time you visit. It’s both soothing and nerve-wracking at the same time. I sensed that Joyce was holding back, so I asked her if she thought Mary had the potential to be a good volunteer.
“Yes,” she slowly said. “The thing is, she might just talk too much when a family just needs peace and quiet. I’m not sure she can be silent.”
“So, you think we shouldn’t put her with patients?”
“No, I don’t think that. It’s hard to say. I think we should give her a chance.”
Now, most of the time, folks like Mary settle down into volunteering and do a great job. As they learn from other volunteers, they adjust and adapt and it is thrilling to hear them say things like, “I’ve learned so much,” and “I’m getting the hang of it.”
But, although Mary genuinely cared for each patient and family she encountered and asked appropriate questions, her chattiness continued.
One day, a staff member tentatively approached me and apologized for bringing this up, but, it seems that Mary was in the room with a patient and family, over stayed her visit and pretty much chatted with them when all they wanted was to sit and be still. So we called Mary in and talked to her about her experience.
“What a beautiful family,” Mary said. “I learned how each member of this family traveled over distances to get here to be with their father.”
“That’s a lot of information you gathered,” I said.
“Oh, they were so wonderful to talk to. I loved it.”
We talked more and I finally said, “Mary, you also need to know when to exit. Families can be weary and although they love how you listen, they also need us to leave them alone too. Do you sense that?”
“I do,” she admitted. “I don’t want to cause them any more pain.”
So, she promised to watch out for over staying her welcome in patients’ rooms.
The next week the charge nurse came to see me. “We’ve got to do something about Mary.” she said.
“Uh oh, what happened?”
“Well, one of my nurses observed Mary talking to a family member at the coffee station. The nurse had to rescue the family member from Mary so he could go see his uncle.” The charge nurse then said, “You know, this is not the place for her.”
Well, I had to admit, after further talking with staff, the charge nurse was right. Mary’s exuberant chattiness was not suited for the quieter nature of a hospice house. What to do with her?
An answer came quite unexpectedly. One of the bereavement counselors happened to stop by and we talked for a bit. He mentioned that he had a lady client who needed a special volunteer to be her bereavement friend. “She is so lonely, she really needs someone to pay attention to her and well, just socialize.”
I jumped at the chance to place Mary and so I called her up and asked to meet with her. She timidly came in and asked if I was going to fire her. “No,” I said, “Why would you think that?” (I love that question, because clearly if a volunteer asks that, they have an inkling that something is amiss)
“I talk too much,” she said. “I can’t help it and I know the nurses are mad at me.”
“They’re not mad, Mary. They just want what’s best for our families.”
“I know. I try to be quieter, but it’s hard.” She made a face like a little girl and for an instant, I could picture her in the principal’s office, being scolded once again.
“We all have gifts, Mary and yours is your love of life.”
“So, I don’t belong here, then.” She was resigned. I suspected that she knew we were in salvage mode.
“No, but I would like you to consider a different role. One, in which you can be more yourself.”
I told her about the bereavement assignment and let her know that it was equally as important. We chatted for quite some time and I assured her that we were going to work with her and that we wanted her to volunteer.
We’ve been three weeks into Mary’s new role and she is doing well. We are getting positive feedback from our client and that is good. But I’m optimistically cautious. We’ll take it slowly and I think with more time and mentoring, Mary will make a good volunteer.
If not, we can try another redirect.
-Meridian -
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 -
There are No “No-Brainers”
David is a social worker and part-time volunteer coordinator for a small hospice. He coaches and encourages about 20 volunteers while providing psychosocial services for 40 nursing home patients. He jokes that he’s perfect for the volunteer manager position because “I just can’t stop offering to do things.” He has been mentoring volunteers for almost a year now and enjoys that aspect of his job. “I feel like I can really place volunteers with a patient, because I have first hand knowledge of what that patient is about. I can really connect with the volunteers too, because we both see the same people. I feel like it’s a win-win.”
A few months ago, David was approached by a lady, Ruth, who owns Jingle, a therapy dog. Jingle is a mixed breed rescued dog and the story of how Ruth adopted him during a Christmas storm touched David’s heart. “It was awesome, and petting Jingle while Ruth told me his story made me realize how much our patients would love having him visit.” Together, David and Ruth came up with a schedule for Jingle to visit patients in a small nursing home that specializes in working with dementia residents.
“Everything seemed fine at first,” David recalls. “I went with Ruth the first time and introduced her to the activities director, Lynn. Lynn was very welcoming and showed Ruth and Jingle the activities room and the nurses’ station. David was secretly thrilled at having introduced some alternative therapies into the volunteer program. “I always felt like if I could just have the time to do the volunteer program some justice, I would have some real neat therapies going on. I realized shortly after I started that volunteer management takes time and real effort. There’s more to it than I ever imagined.”
After several weeks, Ruth started missing her scheduled days. David would call her when he could to check in. She said she had forgotten, or something had come up. “I was starting to get worried,” he said. “I tried to coax the real reason out of her, but she wasn’t forthcoming. I was really confused.”
One day Ruth came into the office and asked to see David. She and Jingle settled into his small space and Ruth offered this explanation. “I think we are going to stop seeing patients for a while,” she said as she stroked Jingle’s head. “It’s just not working out the way I thought it would. The patients who we see, well, I don’t know how to put this, but they really don’t seem to get much out of our visits. They don’t seem very enthused when they see Jingle and well, he’s not excited to go there.”
“Oh,” David said was the best he could muster. “I’m sorry you had that experience.” David said that when he recovered, he offered to send Ruth and Jingle into a different facility. He said he tried very hard to explain that his patients might not outwardly seem engaged, but Ruth was adamant. Ruth left and said she would be in touch in a few months and meanwhile, she was going to continue to visit a Children’s hospital nearby.
David was stunned. “I honestly never in a million years expected that,” he said. “There is no doubt in my mind that the patients got so much from her visits. I just felt so helpless trying to make her see that, but I couldn’t. I really don’t know what I could have done better. It bothers me a lot that I thought this was a no-brainer and it was anything but. Maybe I need to spend more time with new volunteers, but I just can’t.” David paused. “Clearly volunteers are much more complex than I thought. I mean, the ones who were already here and working, I thought everyone new would be just like them, but I was wrong.”
We’ve all experienced the seeming no-brainer. The volunteer who is a veteran will enjoy working exclusively with veterans. The volunteer who had an experience like our clients’ will be perfect working with our clients. The volunteer who needs hours for whatever reason will do what we ask to get those hours. None of these situations are no-brainers because, frankly there are no no-brainers. No volunteer can be pigeon-holed into a role. At least, not for long.
You’ve had volunteers like this: The mother who wants her child to volunteer and thinks he’s the next Einstein. The man who is humble and seems lonely but secretly wants to be a motivational speaker. And the dog owner who looks you in the eye but sorta speaks to you through her dog. Each volunteer is a complex human being with needs and desires. Sometimes they have issues, hang-ups and funny quirks. But, as we place volunteers in positions, we rely more heavily on understanding the motivations and needs of each and every volunteer than our counterparts in the realm of paid employees do. We are literally human resources on steroids.
I can only assure David that we have all been down that road. Why do volunteers stay? Well, I’ve yet to see a chart that explains it, because it’s the individuality of volunteers that we cultivate. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t tenets by which to manage volunteers. There are, but as long as we keep in mind that each new volunteer has their own path, we will be less likely to drop square pegs into round holes.
Now that’s a no-brainer!
-Meridian -
Ah Ha!
Carly is a new activities director at a large nursing home. Her duties also include managing their 20 occasional volunteers. When Carly was hired she received a good amount of training in providing activities. Her training in volunteer management consisted of being handed a list of names and numbers. She recently recounted something she discovered about volunteers over the holidays.
“We’ve always had people asking to come in when the holidays are near I’m told. They want to volunteer to play music or sing or do something associated with Christmas. It’s the only time they will be with me, but I really don’t mind. All the extra help is appreciated and given the fact that I have to coordinate activities as well as volunteers, I have to admit, it is a win-win for me. I pretty much stay with them while they sing or play, so I don’t have to worry about lengthy background checks for a one time volunteer appearance.
This past Christmas, I had two ladies who wanted to volunteer and play music for our residents. The first lady, Jewel, played the violin. She called me up one day and told me that she was driving by our nursing home and she wanted to meet me and play the violin for me. She sounded like it was urgent. I happened to have a few minutes free, so I agreed. She came in and told me she was basically still learning the violin but she had been practicing for some time and she played a few songs. It sounded quite nice, so I gave her a time to come back to play the following week. She called me two times before that to explain that her father had died in a nursing home in another state and that this was a tribute to him. She said that she was nervous playing so I politely listened and encouraged her to keep practicing. I felt like I was helping her too.
The other lady, Melanie, was just visiting relatives for a month or so. She came in and said that she could play the piano fairly well. As it turned out, she is a music teacher with years of experience and skills. She asked me if she would be of help by playing and I told her of course. I set up a time for Melanie to come in and I think it was the day after Jewel was to be here.
Jewel showed up and I took her down to the meeting room where we had a tree and decorations. I provided hot chocolate and the residents were sitting in their wheelchairs, some with family, some alone. We had cookies and several staff were on hand to help. Jewel brought out her violin and proceeded to tell us about how she began learning, how her father always loved the violin and how she had joined a group that was encouraging her to share her gifts with others. After several minutes, she began to play. I can’t remember what song it was, but she kept starting over. The residents and family members were getting restless and as Jewel started over again, a few residents motioned to our staff to take them out. Jewel did not seem to notice, but slowly, the room emptied. She was fairly oblivious to the audience, but continued to play as best as she could while they filtered out. I finally thanked her and she was giddy with pleasure at having played in front of so many people. I told her I would call her again later in the week.
Meanwhile, the next day, Melanie arrived and entered the same set up. I think the residents and family were pretty disappointed, because not as many were present. Melanie opened the piano and greeted the audience. She thanked them for allowing her to play for them and asked them if there was anything they wanted to hear. She proceeded to play all the carols and songs they enjoyed. Everyone was singing along and crying and laughing and Melanie kept referring back to them to make sure they were hearing what they wanted to hear. Little by little the room filled up again and everyone clapped long and hard. Melanie thanked us profusely for allowing her the privilege of entertaining us.
As we were exiting the room, Jewel showed up with her violin. I thought I would play again for a bit, she told me. I thanked Melanie and asked Jewel to accompany me to my office. I told Melanie I would love for her to come back if she was up for it and she agreed. I walked back to my office and closed the door and asked Jewel to sit down. I then told her that we already had someone lined up for today and that she could not just show up and expect to play. She seemed very upset with me. She again talked about her father and her practice and frankly, I’d had enough of her. I excused myself and told her I would be in touch. As she left, I was so shocked at the two different attitudes of these ladies. For one, it was all about her. For the other, it was all about the residents. I’ve not spoken to Jewel since but believe me I call Melanie often and she says she will come in every week until she leaves. If only Jewel were the one leaving and not Melanie, but sometimes, that’s just luck. I was just so shocked at how different the experiences were with these ladies. And it’s not like their talent made the difference, it was… well, it was their perception of their reason to volunteer that made the difference. Who would have known? From this experience, I think I will be just a bit more selective in the future.”
Ah Ha!
-Meridian -
My Buy One Get One
Yesterday we did some impromptu volunteer caroling after a holiday party. One volunteer, Clara tagged along and I watched her tentatively sing with the group. I thought she might be, like me, a lousy singer. We did some rousing renditions of “Let It Snow” and “White Christmas” and as we broke up to head home, Clara came up to me and said, “this did me more good than it did patients and families. I haven’t felt like participating in anything relating to Christmas for many years but somehow this felt right. I can’t tell you what a big deal this was for me.” I didn’t ask about her experiences that lead to her reluctance to enjoy the season, but she continued, “I felt like this group understood my emotions, which have always been mixed at best.”
Clara’s experience was something I did not expect. But then, we get “gifts” like this all the time, those moments when, while trying to do a good deed, we end up with an unexpected side good deed. Now that’s the ultimate buy one get one!
How satisfying that volunteers not only help our clients, but each other and us as well.
Have a joyous and meaningful Christmas and a very wonderful new year.
-Meridian -
Of Course I Remember You, Mr. Uh…
Yes, I can blame getting older or I can blame having too much in my head or I can blame Earth’s shifting magnetic poles. But it doesn’t matter because I have to face the reality. I can’t remember every name, every conversation and frankly, every thing I was supposed to check up on. Gobs of information filter in and then just fall out. Sometimes I feel like an old junk wagon rolling down the road, stuff flying off the top and into the street because it was never properly tied down.
That’s the nature of volunteer management to me. We are like trucks and we have so much piled in the beds that no matter how we rearrange and organize, we can’t ever quite get it all sorted out unless we stay in our garages. I know when I leave my desk, I have people stop me everywhere to ask a question, tell me an important tidbit, invite me to a meeting, request a favor, pass on a message and so on. When you forget why you left your desk two minutes after leaving it, that’s volunteer management.
But stubborn pride tells me on many occasion not to let on that I did not remember the fact that you asked me to check on your name badge yesterday or that you introduced me to your grandchild last year when she was visiting. “My, how she’s grown!” And changed a whole bunch, I might add.
So, here’s a conversation I had recently with a volunteer I haven’t seen for two years.
“Hi Rita, er, Freda! So nice to see you again! We missed you. Welcome back, its been what, four, no two, yes, right, two years already. My it seems longer! How’s your son, George, oh…, right, Craig and his family? Really, that’s great! And your granddaughter… no grandson, is he good? Doing well in school… no right he’s only three, wow, sure, and your husband Sidney? Oh, Rod, right, how’s Rod? Excellent. Are you feeling better… no wait, no you were not sick, right, you moved, yes, I remember now, was it cold in Canada …no, right, Bermuda. Not cold there, huh, ha ha! Well, we have your job visiting nursing home patients… what’s that, no you never did that right! But you wanted to… no, you wanted to do office work. Well we have many jobs here for you and would love for you to come back. Are you still living on the river…or, yes, the golf course, right, it’s River Crest, no, right Spruce View, nice place, I’ve always loved their clubhouse, they have the restaurant where you cook your own steaks, no, no it’s a breakfast place, right, love it. Well, miss you, you’ve always been a great volunteer and would love you back!”
Yes, I can’t admit I don’t remember. I do, however remember running into a volunteer one time in the hall when I ventured from my desk and she asked me, “So, did you find anything out regarding our conversation last week?”
I remember staring at her as if she had landed from Neptune. My brain froze. I thought, did we have a conversation about something? Was I in it? I know that I know you because your face is very familiar, but if my life hung in the balance, I have NO idea what we talked about. So pride of course stepped in and I hedged. “Well, now, I’m glad you brought that up, I was just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I thought about it a lot and was wondering if you thought more about it too. Uh huh, yes, well, since we’ve both been thinking about it, tell me your thoughts on it now.”
Ok, I got really lucky and her response jogged my memory, or should I say reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out the item underneath the pile. Of course I hadn’t done anything about what we had talked about in the hallway last week. I had forgotten 30 minutes later.
I can carry a notepad or a smart phone and most of the time I write on my hand. I have post its on my desk, two calendars, and multiple pads and binders of projects in varying stages of design.
I think of the adage, if we could put a man on the moon…, but that’s not it. If we could design a truck with a huge, huge bed and all these little gnomes inside who would organize things as we drove down the road, then yes, I could get a handle on remembering things.
Until then, I’ll sneak a peek at your name tag or ask a co-worker to discreetly go up and ask who you are and report back, or cough as I say your name, or hide behind the laxatives at the drugstore to avoid the embarrassment of not knowing you.
Or maybe I’ll just have to admit I can’t remember. Nah.
-Meridian -
A Tale of Two Speeches
Last week I attended one day of a community forum hosted by a state organization that is a clearinghouse for non-profits. Featured were non-profit gurus with varying credentials and backgrounds, covering topics ranging from increasing donations to taking care of donors so that you will increase donations. (just kidding, there was a topic on staff burnout-presumably from trying to increase donations, I guess). I was able to attend two presentations; the first one by the vice president of marketing for a consulting firm. The topic was “Reaching Out Through Messaging”. The other presentation was by a volunteer, who had just won a state award for exceptional volunteerism. His topic was “Doing and Believing.”As I stepped over the crowd to find a seat in the first presentation, I knocked several handouts to the floor. The room was packed. Our speaker, dressed impeccably in pinstripes, told us of the power of messaging, especially when knocking on the doors of potential donors. On screen, he showed examples of pictures that tell compelling stories about the good work our organizations are doing. Slide after slide showed grinning people with perfect teeth helping people who looked just enough down on their luck. Not dirty or disgusting, the pictured recipients had appropriate gratitude angled just right for the camera. All in all, I got the messages from the pictures. Donating money=nice scenes like this going on. Evidently, these pictures work, because he gave some pretty impressive statistics. Within a moment, the subconscious mind of the donor is invaded with good feelings. Nicely done, I thought. He did say that messaging would apply to recruiting volunteers as well. Paint the picture, tell the story. He showed one picture of volunteers. They were gathered together, arms around one another, smiling for the camera. They looked pretty happy. They weren’t sweating, so I’m guessing this was a before and not an after picture. I did notice they all had perfect teeth. Hmmm, maybe they all went to the same dentist.
I pretty much could sit anywhere I wanted to in the next presentation. I guess most of the attendees elected to go to the concurrent session, “Bridging the Donor Gap”. I looked around at my fellow seat mates and nodded. You can pick out the volunteer managers at symposium. We all pretty much get out our steno pads and wait expectantly.
The award-winning volunteer, Gabe, walked up to the front of the room and turned to look at us. He was tall, with raven hair and craggy features. His smile was impish, as if he had just sneaked into his father’s cocktail party. He thanked us for coming and then proceeded to tell us his story. A youth minister, Gabe began his ministry ten years ago. He had watched with concern the growing number of homeless folks in his area and so he began to collect basic essentials to give out, first on a monthly basis, then every week. This ministry, with the help of the youth of his church, added a soup kitchen, and a counseling service. He, and several youth members volunteered at a local thrift store in exchange for the unsellable items such as socks and kitchen utensils. He then grew quiet as he told us about one of his most memorable clients, “Ruth,” a homeless woman who had lost her job and with a ten-year old son, Jason, in tow, arrived at the church doorstep. Ruth had dropped out of high school when she was sixteen and pregnant and now, at 27, she found herself without a safety net after her mother died. Gabe walked quietly back and forth in front of us, running his fingers through his hair as he told us that shy little Justin loved Batman. His Batman sneakers were well-worn and the only sneakers the youth group had to replace them were plain. Gabe paused and told us what happened next. The youth group started texting all their friends, asking for a pair of boys Batman sneakers in size 7. By the time Gabe arrived at his church the next morning, not only were there three pairs of Batman sneakers arriving at church, but friends of friends brought Batman shirts and toys along with packs of new socks, food, underwear, dresses, diapers, jeans, and more. On those donations alone, his group was able to feed and clothe 5 homeless families. Gabe looked us in the eyes. “Believe,” he said. “Believe that you can do good work and you will.”
When Gabe finished, we all stood up and applauded. He smiled reluctantly. I didn’t check to see if he had perfect teeth. I was too busy being mesmerized by his message.
-Meridian
volunteerplaintalk 