Your Volunteer Opportunities Suck

There.

I said it.

And before somebody gets offended, closes the browser, and tells the booster president that Mike is being mean again, give me a minute.

Your volunteer opportunities might not suck.

But if you routinely struggle to get parents and students to volunteer while watching those exact same people enthusiastically give their time somewhere else, we need to stop automatically blaming the volunteers.

Because maybe people haven't stopped volunteering.

Maybe they just don't want to do what you're asking them to do.

I know that stings. That isn't really what you wanted to hear from me when you opened this blog - but people giving the appearance that they have stopped volunteering and people just not wanting to do what you are asking of them?

Those are two very different problems.

“Nobody Wants to Volunteer Anymore”

I've heard this everywhere.

Band boosters.

Theater organizations.

Youth sports.

PTAs.

Community nonprofits.

Churches.

You name it. The signup goes out. There are twelve empty slots. A few days pass. Still empty.

Someone sends another email.

WE STILL NEED VOLUNTEERS!

Two more people sign up. One of them is already on the board.

Eventually the same six adults who always save everything start rearranging their lives to cover the holes.

And somebody inevitably says:

“Parents just don't volunteer anymore.”

Maybe. Maybe some of you are absolutely right in that assumption depending on the established culture of your group.

BUT - families are busy. Parents work. Kids have ridiculous schedules. Everybody is tired. Those things are real. But there's a problem with that explanation.

Sometimes those supposedly unavailable people will turn around and absolutely mob another volunteer opportunity.

Same parents.

Same kids.

Same jobs.

Same Saturday.

Same 24 hours in the day.

Suddenly everybody figures it out. Carpools appear from nowhere. Parents trade pickup times. Kids recruit their friends. People rearrange schedules.

The thing fills up almost immediately.

Wait.

I thought nobody volunteered anymore.

Here's a Completely Fictional Example

Let's say your organization has a fundraiser selling hot dogs.

Actually, no.

Somebody somewhere probably sells hot dogs, and then I'll get a text accusing me of talking about them.

We're selling rutabagas. Welcome to the First Annual Marching Arts Rutabaga Spectacular. We need eight adults and six students. You will stand somewhere for several hours doing something involving rutabagas. It will be horribly hot and no one will send water.

Sounds incredible.

The signup sits there.

One person.

Then another.

A board member eventually takes two shifts because somebody has to keep the Great Rutabaga Initiative from collapsing.

Meanwhile, somewhere else, another opportunity appears.

Maybe it's at a festival. Maybe it's at a sporting event. Maybe it's backstage at something cool. Maybe it's some weird community thing teenagers actually want to attend.

And the kids lose their minds.

“CAN I DO THIS?”

Their friends are doing it. It sounds fun. It's somewhere they already want to go.

Suddenly they don't care that the shift is eight hours long.

Eight hours?!

The same teenager who acts like unloading the dishwasher constitutes a violation of international labor law is suddenly prepared to work an eight-hour shift.

And now the parents mobilize. Transportation gets figured out. Schedules get rearranged. Some unfortunate dad gets volunteered to supervise a collection of miniature adults who are absolutely convinced they run the place.

Everybody makes it happen.

Why?

That's the question.

Not:

“Why won't anybody volunteer?”

Ask:

“Why did they want to volunteer for THAT?”

Now we're getting somewhere.

Financial Value Isn't the Only Value

When organizations evaluate fundraisers, we understandably look at money.

Revenue.

Expenses.

Profit margin.

Labor requirements.

Return on investment.

All important.

But I think we're missing another measurement:

Participation value.

What is the experience worth to the person giving you their time?

Not financially.

Socially.

Emotionally.

Experientially.

Do I get to spend time with my friends? Do I get to do something interesting? Will I meet people? Can I spend time with my kid? Will I learn something? Do I feel useful? Is there food? Will I laugh? Will I have a story afterward? Does this feel like something I'm joining, or does it feel like somebody desperately needs a warm body in Box Number Seven?

That matters.

Human beings aren't spreadsheets! We don't evaluate every decision by calculating the financial benefit to the organization.

Sometimes we do things because:

“That sounds fun.”

And you know what? That's okay.

Your Fundraiser Can Make Money and Still Suck

I know... I am being mean again. But here's the truth, you can have a fundraiser that looks fantastic on paper and is absolutely miserable to participate in.

Great margin.

Predictable revenue.

Low financial risk.

Still sucks... and everyone hates doing it.

Then every year leadership gets frustrated because nobody signs up.

At some point, perhaps the volunteers aren't the variable we should be examining. Maybe the fundraiser legit sucks.

I know... Blasphemy.

“But we've done it for eleven years!”

Cool.

Maybe it's sucked for eleven years. Tradition is not evidence of effectiveness. And before somebody thinks I'm saying every volunteer opportunity needs to be a carnival with free food and a DJ, I'm not.

Some jobs just aren't fun. Trailers have to be loaded. Uniforms have to be washed. Concessions have to be staffed. Equipment has to be moved.

Sometimes somebody has to stand in an extraordinarily boring place for four hours because that's the job.

But boring work doesn't have to be a shitty experience.

Stop Recruiting Positions. Start Recruiting People.

Organizations love posting:

“We need three volunteers Saturday from 8:00–1:00.”

That's not recruitment. That's inventory management.

You're looking for three human-shaped objects to occupy three empty spaces.

Compare that with:

“Hey, we're doing this Saturday. Come work with us.”

Tiny difference. Massive psychological change.

One is filling a vacancy.

The other is joining people.

This is especially important for new parents. Imagine knowing nobody in an organization and seeing:

VOLUNTEERS NEEDED — SIX-HOUR SHIFT

Fantastic.

-Will I know anyone?

-What am I doing?

-Where do I go?

-What should I wear?

-Am I going to screw something up?

-Is everybody else already friends?

-Am I going to spend six hours awkwardly standing next to someone named Gary who apparently knows everything but explains nothing?

No thanks.

And then leadership concludes:

“New parents don't want to get involved.”

Maybe they do. Maybe we've made getting involved unnecessarily uncomfortable.

Ask the People Who Actually Showed Up

Want some useful data? Stop asking only why people aren't volunteering.

Ask your volunteers:

“What made you decide to do this?”

Then shut up. Don't feed them the respectable answer.

Don't ask:

“Did you volunteer because you wanted to support the students?”

Of course they support the students.

Ask what actually moved them from “someone should probably do that” to “I'll do it.”

You may hear:

“My friend asked me.”

“My kid wanted me here.”

“I did it last year and had fun.”

“I like this event.”

“I wanted to meet some people.”

“I knew who I would be working with.”

“My daughter and her friends were excited about it.”

Those answers tell you something.

They tell you how people in your community become activated.

That's infinitely more useful than sitting around another board meeting complaining that nobody helps anymore.

Social Value Is Real Value

We spend enormous amounts of energy saying we want to “build community.”

Then we create volunteer systems with virtually no community in them.

Click the link.

Pick a box.

Show up.

Perform labor.

Go home.

Thanks!

See you next time!

And then we're confused about why people don't develop a deep emotional attachment to the organization.

Come on.

If you want community, design for community.

Let friends work together. Recruit small groups instead of isolated individuals. Pair new parents with veterans who aren't assholes. Tell people exactly what they're going to do. Introduce them when they arrive. Feed them when you can. Make sure someone knows their name. Explain why the work matters. Thank them like giving you five hours of their Saturday actually cost them something.

Because it did.

And For God's Sake, Don't Punish the Reliable People

There's another nasty little cycle that happens when volunteer participation gets low. The reliable people get rewarded for being reliable with...

more work.

Congratulations! You showed up! Therefore you shall now be asked to do absolutely everything until you die.

Meanwhile, everyone else learns that volunteering once might accidentally result in becoming chair of the committee.

That's not exactly an enticing recruitment strategy.

Healthy volunteer cultures make participation easy to enter and easy to leave.

Help today.

Thank you.

Come back when you can.

Not:

“Excellent. You have demonstrated competence. Here are the keys, a spreadsheet, three passwords, and seventeen years of unresolved organizational trauma.”

This Is Culture

Because, like almost everything I talk about, this eventually comes back to culture.

Every volunteer experience teaches people something about your organization.

If their first experience is confusing, lonely, disorganized, cliquish, and thankless, you've taught them:

Don't volunteer again.

And they'll listen.

Then leadership complains that nobody comes back.

If the experience is organized, welcoming, social, useful, and maybe even enjoyable?

They've learned something different. Maybe they return. Then they recognize somebody. Then they aren't the new parent anymore. Then another new parent arrives and they say:

“Hey, come work with us.”

That's how this grows.

Not because somebody found the magical wording for the SignupGenius reminder.

Because participation started producing belonging.

Maybe People Aren't the Problem

I think organizations need to become much more cautious about saying:

“Nobody wants to volunteer anymore.”

Because that's an accusation.

You're assigning a character flaw to an entire population of people.

They're apathetic.

They're selfish.

They're lazy.

They don't care like parents used to.

Maybe. That could be true! But the jury is still out on that one. However, I am confident someone will come into the comments here or my DMs and tell me how wrong I am... Or, my favorite, the person who will inevitbly come here and tell me I have clearly never worked in a volunteer organization. Well... We are entitle to our opinions.

But maybe, JUST MAYBE they're volunteering somewhere else. Maybe they're coaching a soccer team. Maybe they're helping at church. Maybe they're running a theater set. Maybe they're spending eight hours at some giant festival because their kid and all their friends thought it sounded awesome.

If they're giving their time enthusiastically somewhere else, they aren't anti-volunteering.

That explanation is gone.

Now you have to ask the harder question:

Why does that opportunity have participation value when ours doesn't?

That's not an insult. That's diagnosis.

And diagnosis gives you something you can actually work with.

Get Curious Before You Get Angry

So the next time you're staring at an empty volunteer signup, resist the urge to immediately conclude that nobody cares.

Get curious. Look at the opportunities that fill. Look at the ones that don't. Ask the people who participate why they came. Ask the people who came once and disappeared what the experience was like.

-Look for social value.

-Look for friction.

-Look for uncertainty.

-Look for cliques.

-Look for opportunities that sound like experiences versus opportunities that sound like unpaid staffing assignments.

And yes, occasionally you may reach an uncomfortable conclusion:

Your volunteer opportunity sucks.

Good.

That's actually great news.

Because “society no longer believes in volunteerism” is a pretty difficult problem for your booster club to solve.

“This experience sucks” is fixable.

Make it easier. Make it social. Make it welcoming. Make the purpose clear. Invite people personally. Give them ownership.

Let them have some damn fun.

Because people haven't suddenly stopped wanting to belong to things. Sometimes we just forgot that belonging is supposed to feel good.

And if people are lining up to volunteer somewhere else while your signup sheet sits empty, don't insult them. Pay attention. They're telling you something.

Your volunteers don't necessarily suck.

Maybe your opportunities do.

Let's raise the bar, together.