Easy Does It: Incremental Change in Nonprofit Organizations

Over the last 20 years, I've been involved with dozens of nonprofit organizations as an employee, a board member, a volunteer, a services vendor, a contractor, and a consultant. I've worked with the tiniest ones that are run solely by volunteers, like the National Center for Community Collaboration. I've worked with large ones that have thousands of volunteer and paid staff members, such as the University of Denver. As part of my community outreach and marketing efforts, I've conducted informational interviews with more than 75 board members, development directors, executive directors, and operations directors in the Denver area.

My frustration has often been the snail's pace at which things happen in nonprofits, especially as compared to the lightning speed at which small-business owners move. When I see that transformational change is possible, I want to go, go, go make it happen! The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that ensure the nonprofit achieves its mission are all there: money, expertise, passion, and time. It's just that someone, or a few folks, need to sit down and, in one marathon all-nighter, fit those yellow, white, and green bits together to reveal the tranquil landscape pictured on the outside of the puzzle box.

But I've realized that it is almost always only incremental change that's possible in nonprofit organizations. Once-a-month board meetings, executive directors with impossibly complex job descriptions who work for below-market wages, an economy that has squeezed Americans' ability to give, and many other factors conspire to limit the way we can fit the puzzle pieces together.

Instead of funders, staff, volunteers, and the community sitting down at the table together to work on the puzzle together, one person at a time meanders by the puzzle table and tries to make a piece fit here or there. Sometimes, on a coffee break, a couple of folks chat over the puzzle while they sip their steaming beverages and quickly find five pieces that fit together. Once in a while, someone who thinks she knows better will remove a piece that's already been fitted correctly in order to see if there is another piece that works better there.

Eventually, though, we start to see larger and larger pieces of the whole: a lake in the background comes together, a fox materalizes at the lower right-hand corner, a sunny mountainside pops out, just needing a couple of pieces to make it complete. These microcosms of the larger landscape represent corporate sponsorships falling into place, or finally getting that policies and procedures manual completed, or identifying the organization's core competencies.

As the picture becomes clearer, and we see that it is indeed possible to re-create that photo from the front of the puzzle box, we get more and more excited. People stop by the puzzle table more often, and in larger groups, and for longer periods of time. It becomes more and more obvious where the remaining pieces fit. Finally, the puzzle is complete!

We stare in wonder and pride at the hungry folks who have received nutritious meals, the students who graduate from high school, the refugees who now have housing. We remember back to the monstrous pile of 1,500 pieces of cardboard and paper we looked at when we first dumped them out of the box. We feel proud of the contribution each of us made, though it took a long time and we faced many moments of despair along the way. And we think, "Easy does it. Slow and steady. Never give up."

In the Thick of Things

Seth Godin posted on his blog today about the world of possibilities in relation to a hiker called Wolf who carries 14 pounds of weight on his treks. For you non-hiking, non-camping people out there, 14 pounds is sort of like the four-minute mile: theoretically impossible, but somehow achievable by the elite few.

In the the story Godin referred to, the McDuffy couple was inspired by Wolf. Each time the McDuffy couple returned from their hikes, they gave away more of their stuff, including a boat, pickup, and windsurfer. Ultimately, they stopped paying for insurance on their home and belongings because they knew that they could live, "...in a much smaller house with drastically fewer possessions."

Having just renegotiated my homeowners' insurance and purchased an umbrella policy to further protect all of my things, this story struck a chord with me. Just how much stuff does one person need to survive? How much food, how much furniture, how many cars, how many toys? I probably spend more money on flowers to make my deck pretty each spring than some families spend on food in two months. Then I water those flowers three or four or five times a week, and they die at the end of the season.

In mouse type at the bottom of the article, it says that both of the McDuffys were killed in hit-and-run accidents (two separate accidents two years apart) while riding their bikes. It struck me how unjust that was--they were doing a fantastic job figuring out the whole life thing, and then they were taken from it. But then I realized that they had probably learned all they needed to in this world and were ready to move on to another plane of existence.

My umbrella insurance policy and I are nowhere near that plane, but I am inspired. I am thinking.

Conspicuous Consumption

Along with the rest of the world, I've been rethinking how I spend money. At first it rankled, having to cut back and cut down. But in combination with the lessons I've learned (and continue to learn) about privilege, the "reducing, reusing, and recycling" is now something I'm proud of.

I'm refinancing the house and shopping insurance coverage. Gary does the grocery shopping more often because when he goes, nothing comes home that isn't on the list (this is an excellent use of his single-minded focus). Rather than making me feel put out, I now like leftovers because I used all the vegetables before they went bad AND I don't have to cook again. Rather than spending $50 on new plastic organizers, I found a perfectly serviceable wood alternative at the thrift store for $3. I think long and hard about buying anything if it's something I like to make myself and can do in a reasonable amount of time.

This is a sea change for Gary and me. We were conspicuous consumers (and still are relative to most of the world's population). I hope these lessons stick when things look up financially. But I feel it in my heart as well as think it, so I'm pretty sure they will.

How Do You Cycle?

Today I paid 75 cents more to buy a used book than I could have paid to buy the same book brand new. One less new book purchased is less raw materials and energy used to produce it. What would have been better is if I had shopped at the local used bookstore and found a copy there. That way, the carbon footprint would have been smaller because the book wouldn't have to be shipped to me. I'd also be supporting the local economy with my purchase and the 12.2% sales tax rate I pay for the privilege of buying goods in my town.

I'm also starting to keep non-recyclable plastic bottle lids. I know I'll be able to figure out a way to make them into cool jewelry if I put some creative energy into it. This is known as upcycling--taking something that would otherwise be thrown away and giving it new life.

We took our old electronic equipment to be harvested for parts instead of dumping it. We paid a small fee.

I made a bulletin board out of old champagne corks.

I recycle every scrap of paper, cardboard, and paperboard along with the plastics and glass that my recycle company will take. I'm considering starting to collect the plastics they won't take so that we can drop them off at a recycling plant where they're a little more enlightened.

A friend uses a dry-erase board rather than paper to take notes for something that he needs to remember only temporarily. This is an example of a practice known as precycling--figuring out how to do something differently so that you don't unnecessarily waste a resource in the first place.

Another friend is going to put a flagstone patio in her back yard. She listed her grass on Freecycle.com, and within a week, a guy came to cut her 100 square feet of sod and take it away. She got her flagstones from another friend who had taken out his patio.

What ideas and practices have you incorporated into your life that contribute to sustainability?

How Sustainable Are We?

Do you think about sustainability? I do--for nonprofit organizations, animal life, plants, and yes, my lifestyle. I live in a beautiful suburban neighborhood in a little 60s ranch house with big trees and a garden I've spent seven years creating. In Mexico, eight family members would live with me. We'd raise some of our own food on the land. I buy cooked, sliced chicken at Costco that comes in a plastic resealable bag that isn't recyclable. But it's convenient.

I also think about privilege (race, religion, gender, socioeconomic class, heterosexuality, gender role identification, education, body shape/size... the list goes on and on) and how it affects sustainability. Clearly, those who have privilege get to make the rules at the expense of the have-nots, even if that means we ruin it for others. Throwing away trash, throwing away recyclables, throwing away productivity, throwing away people.

Oh, I do "my part"--don't get me wrong. I recycle more than I throw away. I buy used cars. I shop at the thrift store and get perfectly usable stuff for $3.50 instead of $35.00. I check out books at the library rather than buying new ones. With my money and my time, I support nonprofits that promote economic self-sufficiency and sustainability for women and girls. I make changes in my language to change perceptions about those who do not have privilege.

But my part seems so, so tiny.