I believe that some people are born with the volunteer gene and some are not. This is not going to be a screed on the superiority of volunteers or the wisdom of volunteering or even the necessity of volunteering (although I think all would agree that not much would get done in business, government, organized religion or neighborhoods without volunteers). It’s merely about people who tend to volunteer. Yes, I am one of those people. Days after I began first grade, the teacher asked “Who wants to collect the milk money?” Guess who had her hand up in the air in a nanosecond? Why? Want to know my true motivation before I realized that I had the gene? I had noticed that when the teacher took our 2 cents for milk each morning, she put the coins in this little round tin that formerly held a roll of scotch tape. I wanted that little round tin. I wanted to fill it with pennies and then shake it like a castanet. I wasn’t looking for glory and I didn’t even know the meaning of altruism; I just wanted that scotch tape tin filled with pennies. By raising my hand, it was mine. But then there was that rush I felt when all the kids lined up at my desk and pressed their sweaty pennies into my hand. I wouldn’t say it was power, but it certainly felt good. Over the next 12 years I cleaned the chalkboard erasers; collected for March of Dimes, led the line for the fire drill; contributed canned peas to the food drive; shelved books in the library; appeared in school productions ranging from “The Three Billy Goats Gruff” to “To Kill a Mockingbird”, sold hotdogs at football games, served on the student government; helped build a couple of floats, worked at the polls, and generally did just about anything I could that didn’t require asking my parents for money or a ride somewhere. I was a well established volunteer by the time I finished my higher education and entered the work world.
It was the 1970s; there was a gas crisis and a job market with poor prospects. I took an entry level clerk typist position with the Federal Government. It was a boring job, but the pay was decent and the benefits were great. I immediately began looking for a way to get work that I’d been schooled for and surprisingly typing was the key. My office had some new fangled “Mag Card” machines that I quickly mastered. I realized these machines (precursors to word processing) were like the Emancipation Proclamation for typists. You could type like the wind and when you made a mistake you just did a ‘strike over’ and the printed document reflected the corrections. No fuss, no muss, no white-out and better still -- no re-typing. As word of these magic machines spread, other offices sent emissaries to check them out. One afternoon my boss said “Who wants to put on a demo for some curious managers from other offices? Guess whose hand went up like a shot? Yes, I did the demo and the other office hired me to train their staff! Once again, proof that volunteerism pays! (and, not just sweaty pennies.) Within a year I had worked my way into another job and on and on. Don’t think for a moment that was the end of my volunteering. While climbing the career ladder I managed to organize a few dozen Happy Hours and Office Christmas parties, collect canned goods, assist with talent shows at the VA Hospital, bake about 100 birthday cakes, throw a couple of baby showers, collect money for retirement parties, tutor students in the DC public school system, and even serve as Fire Marshall for my corridor. (Hmm, sound familiar?)
None of these activities were accomplished on my own. I met many others with the volunteer gene. We kind of gravitate toward each other, flock together like birds. We understand each other and the need to do. We recognize each other in a crowded room, it’s not like we have an identifying mark or a secret handshake, we know our kind. Some of us establish life-long friendships. We carry on our relationship from work to after work activities and then on into retirement. We know each other’s strengths and call on each other when we need someone we can count on.
I was spurred to write this by a fellow traveler. This is for you Sam, the ultimate volunteer – a member of the armed forces who served her country at a time when it was not so commonplace for women. You followed this service with a career devoted to veterans’ benefits and then a busy retirement schedule of activities at your grandkid’s school and many retirement and alumni associations. You are an excellent newsletter editor and a Web Master Extraordinaire. All these things accomplished with a warm smile, a love of life and a devotion to family and friends. You are the poster child for the Volunteer Gene. More should take a page from your book.
I’m just saying…
