Post Mortem

First off: I am not a quitter.

Second:  it's time to quit. 

No worries -- this is not angsty wrist-slashing I'm contemplating. Instead, it's time to break up with the soup kitchen volunteer work I've done faithfully and joyously each week for the last three years. But how?

Uh... it's not you, it's me? 

It was a great relationship at first. I felt appreciated; I made friends; I came home feeling fulfilled and grateful for all the stuff I usually take for granted, like meals that don't involve toddler-sized vats of peanut butter and mystery-meat soups. 

The 501c3 did so much right that it was easy to forgive its quirks. Like the fact its "leadership team" is all white, despite a diverse volunteer staff and a professed anti-racism agenda. Like the fact that team fired a volunteer who's crime was curmudgeonliness ... without giving the volunteer feedback about his behavior. 

I'm not a quitter. I could have stuck with it. But over the last few months the leadership team has instituted changes to build community that have ended up taking it away. Intimate group reflections have evolved into 30 people in a circle, straining to hear a bible study. Stimulating lunch conversations among 3-4 people have shifted to 30 people eating in a circle the size of  a sumo mat. Now the good talks are gone, and there aren't even large men running into each other wearing skimpy belt-thongs. How disappointing. 

It's time to quit, and that's something I've never been very good at. I want to run my mouth and give feedback, even though the leadership team's made it very clear over the years that they're not interested. What, pray tell, could a once-a-week volunteer know about a 501c3 that full-time staff wouldn't? 

So, consider this wishful thinking #103: I wish nonprofits could see volunteers as a resource for different perspectives in organizational decision-making. And wishful thinking #104: perhaps the occasional exit-interview to figure out why volunteers quit? 

Pointed Questions

I heard this story about giving circles on NPR a few weeks ago and then forgot totally about it. (Insert your own snide comment about public radio here.) 

But the story's worth a listen because it's all about donors who want a way to learn for themselves what an organization is doing well, or the ways its slowly leeching the spirits of everyone around. 

I'm converted after hearing the story. When folks put their donations together in one pot, it's a good incentive for executive directors to take their questions seriously. When giving circles volunteer at nonprofits, they see first-hand whether Little Jimmy really will be able to ride away on a bicycle ... or whether the place's a mess. 

"It's like a zoo in the kitchen. There's people running all over the place," she says. "There's this guy, who was clearly the person running the kitchen, screaming 'Out of the way. Hot plate!' It was just chaotic."

But that raises an interesting question for circle member Patty Wynn.

"Is that the type of organization that we could make better, if we had money to give? Or do you think even if you gave more money to that organization, they would run it in the same way?" she asks.

Malepati responds that one problem she noticed at the feeding program was the lack of interaction between the homeless women and the staff, and among the women themselves. Clients appeared to just come, get mediocre food and leave.

"You can't fix that sort of thing with money, I don't think," she says.

Congrats, Patty Wynn! You asked the gazillion-dollar question! And Malepati -- you nailed it.  

No Soup for You?

$50 million for nonprofits! That's what I like to hear. Well, until we get to the details.  The Washington Post had this to say, from the First Lady we Love to Love, Michelle Obama: 

"The idea is simple: Find the most effective programs out there and then provide the capital needed to replicate their success in communities around the country," she said.

Mrs. Obama added, "By focusing on high-impact, results-oriented nonprofits, we will ensure that government dollars are spent in a way that is effective, accountable and worthy of the public trust."

The rah-rah in my throat died halfway through reading that. Who will decide what programs are effective? What does success mean? It's not the devil that's in these details; it's the possibility that some good nonprofits won't get federal cash because their parachute's a different color than the government's Air Force 1.  

Case in point: A soup kitchen close to home feeds more than 500 homeless men and women each week, using primarily donations. The mostly-volunteer staff call the homeless clients by name, and the space is free of violence, drugs, and prostitution. People who come in hungry leave full, and regulars feel enough ownership they enforce policies on their own, occasionally breaking up fights between new clients. "Man, they shouldn't have disrespected the kitchen," they'll say afterward to anyone who will listen. 

Success at the soup kitchen is feeding and respecting people who are often hungry and disrespected. But clients leave the soup kitchen as mentally ill, addicted, and jobless as when they came in.

We could take bets on whether the soup kitchen will get some of the Obama money. But its work is only results-oriented if having a full stomach counts as results. Somehow I don't think that's the worthy effectiveness the government's looking for.