Making Things Better

For several years, my husband and I have been thinking about where we wanted to retire.  Then, last year, it dawned on me that we couldn’t decide because neither one of us actually wanted to retire.  Anywhere.  And so instead, we decided to do some needed things around the house, starting with floors and then moving to the roof.  Bottom, Top.  It seemed to make sense.

What we didn’t consider was the tumult this was going to cause.  To us and mostly to our dogs.  Several weeks later, they are still traumatized.

Dogs really like to keep to routines.  They want their pack to all be together and to be in familiar places.  I was impressed by how well they’ve reacted—two days in a hotel room with us (so small that when both of them were lying on the floor, there was not an inch of floor to walk on); being restricted to our bedroom; being kept from going outdoors upstairs or down.  But I have also noticed how much more they are sleeping (and if you have dogs, you probably didn’t realize that they COULD sleep more than they already do!).  I understand.  Sleeping is a way of coping with change.

But for my dogs, all they wanted was things to be back to what they had been.  For them, that was comfort, familiarity, a sense of where they belong.  They don’t want to move  forward, learn new things, hone skills they already have.  They are content with the status quo.

I understand that, also.  Especially after all the change that come down in the last few years.  Getting back to some sort of normalcy would be a gift.  But here’s the rub.  For many nonprofits, normalcy means operating on less than all cylinders.  It means trying to do more with less.  It means always looking over your shoulder lest that tsunami—of cut funding, more needs, fewer resources—catches up.

As we started putting things back after the floors were done, we decided that now was the time to make some changes.  Not terribly big ones—we weren’t going to replace furniture, but we did decide that putting some area rugs down could bring some needed color; changing some of our artwork, generally by moving pictures around, made some spaces feel brand new.  And cleaning out bookcases, reorganizing the too many cookbooks we have, reminded us of dishes we used to love—and ones we have been saying we were going to try….for years!

Change is hard.  But many of the changes we’ve made in the past few years, are good.  More and more, nonprofits are reaching out to their stakeholders, to say thank you and to ask them how they—the nonprofit—were doing.  One of my clients discovered that there was a program that they could offer that made a world of difference for their clients;  another discovered that a signature program was actually not needed or appreciated by those who were supposed to benefit.  

Staff discovered that not commuting five days a week gave them hours that they could use to stay on top of things, both professionally and personally.  And that made them better employees.  They also discovered what they missed about the office and are making concerted efforts to spend the office time they do have—typically two or three days a week—to include those important things.  And, as so many of us have notices, many are rethinking what their professional lives should look like.  A friend who does executive search noted that while business was booming—they had more searches than ever before—they were at the same time dying;  they couldn’t find candidates to fill all those positions.  That will, I am sure, change and change soon.  But instead of being pushed by blind ambition or by fear of losing a job, I’m hoping this will move people to do work that they love, and not to forget about the non-work aspects that make our lives richer and more fulfilling.

Despite worst fears, fundraising has gotten stronger for many organizations.  And more and more are looking in new and potentially profitable places where they can bring in revenue.  

My dogs are calming down.  They have even gotten used to the workers who are doing our roofing, finding the pesky leak that has left a hole in our kitchen ceiling for almost 2 years, refreshing the paint and landscaping the backyard.  To them, these things are now the norm.  I wonder what is going to happen when all the work is done?  Will the dogs miss the tumult?  Will they start sleeping even more?  Or will they take the changes in stride having learned that change is not the enemy and often can be a very good friend.