Today we bring you another look “Inside the Board,” from members of the STC Board of Directors on various topics of interest. Today, Judith Herr looks back at her long history of volunteering and talks about daffodils.
Musings on Volunteering for STC and Daffodils
For me, serving on the STC Board is challenging and rewarding, and the support of our very hardworking staff helps us avoid stumbling. I apply my experience as a technical communicator to my STC volunteer efforts—and my lessons learned as an STC volunteer to work as a technical communicator. As technical communicators, we’re accustomed to embracing technology and change. As volunteers, we apply both our technical expertise and our ability to reach out to our constituencies—using both our up-to-date tech tools and our high-touch knowledge to deliver useful information and support.
“Volunteering: The difference is I don’t get paid!”
I take my volunteer jobs seriously. Years ago, my role models (a couple now in their late 90s) enticed my husband and me into complex and challenging volunteer ventures requiring both high-tech knowledge and very human, high touch energy. For example, we produced and directed community theater in Malaysia. For the Wizard of Oz and later Die Fledermaus we worked with soloists in four languages, 50 singing Munchkins under age 12, costumed casts of 1000s (or so it seemed), huge-scale sets, complex lighting and special effects, an orchestra, publicity, and the first night presence of the Sultan of Selangor—to see his daughter, who was Dorothy. Our role models insisted throughout the run that the only thing “volunteer” about our efforts was the lack of remuneration.
“Daffodils Days—Joy and a dark side?”
At another time, I was a paid regional fundraising director for a very large charitable organization, and was “staff” to 3,000 eager volunteers—rewarding for me, but not nearly as much fun as being one of the volunteers. Tasks for which no one will volunteer must be done by staff … which brings us to a high-touch event involving daffodils.
Known as the “flower of hope,” daffodils played a central role in a major fundraiser. Sponsoring companies and individuals ordered daffodils, then bunches of inexpensive flowers were shipped from the north. Volunteers sorted and delivered them to smiling recipients. It was definitely a rewarding event.
As a responsible staffer, I thought during my first Daffodil Days that everything was under control. We had volunteer teams to sell to sponsors, teams to sort the flowers, teams to deliver and collect the money, even a team to plan refreshments and a celebration for the volunteers. So, when someone asked me who would receive the delivery of the crates of tightly bound and closed daffodil buds, I didn’t panic.
“We’ll have them delivered to the office,” I said decisively. Glib, but potentially disastrous! Arrival time for 18-wheelers bringing 20,000 stems of daffodils in 40 crates can be unpredictable. The flowers are picked when ready and must be shipped by refrigerated truck immediately—and the truck may pick up and deliver other products along the way. And, I was told, “If daffies get warm before being unpacked from the crates, the buds will begin to open in the box, and crush each other. That happened over in the Valley one year—they lost the whole shipment!”
“Okay, well, we need a cold place. How about having them delivered to the County Morgue?” Actually, this solution might have been acceptable except for one small detail. The only attendant at night might have to go make a pick up and no one would be available to receive the flowers.
I got the call from the flower dealer at 10 PM on a chilly Friday. The truck would be in our area around midnight. No answer at the Morgue. I made a quick decision and called for delivery to my house. So, at 3 AM, grinding gears called and I leapt out of bed and ran downstairs to tell the trucker where to put the crates. Did you know that truck drivers don’t unload trucks? Fortunately my awakened family and neighbor could be pressed into service. By 5 AM, we had a porch full of boxes to be kept cool, and the truck was again out of the neighborhood.
Very early Saturday morning, before it got warm, we loaded crates, hauled them to the organization’s office, and set the air conditioner at 60 degrees. Cheerful, rested volunteers came in and began cutting stems, filling black plastic bag-lined boxes with water, standing up bunches to open naturally, and sorting orders. Saturday and Sunday nights while the “daffies” opened silently and alone, I imagined a roomful of dead daffodils with leaking water everywhere,
But on Monday morning, I unlocked the door to a cold room full of joyful yellow blooms and very slight scent. I announced, “This is wonderful, what a rewarding project!”
Then another silent thought came: “Surely there is another way to make a living, develop my career, and challenge my abilities in my true calling.” And here I am, a technical communicator and a member of the Board of Directors of the Society for Technical Communication.
(Ed note: Spend nights calling the morgue about daffodils, or volunteer for the Society for Technical Communication. Methinks she made the right choice!)
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Ed note: Spend nights calling the morgue about daffodils, or volunteer for the Society for Technical Communication. Methinks she made the right choice!)
Jmh reply: I do buy tightly closed daffodils in the spring and plop them in water in a blue bottle just to catch them opening up in a few days – no morgue visits or 18 wheelers in the neighborhood though!