How to schedule a meeting without being punched in the pancreas

As a field, we have a lot of meetings. And we totally suck at scheduling them. Each week, I get at least a dozen emails like this: “Dear Vu, my name is John, and I am from Unicycle for Guns, a nonprofit dedicated to replacing violence with the joys of unicycling. I would like to meet with you to see how our organizations could collaborate. Let me know what works best for you.”

Now, this email is very sincere and courteous, but it makes me want to punch the meeting requester in the pancreas. Not at first, of course, but gradually, due to a series of irritating emails. What’s best for me may be 10:30am on 10/20 at my office, so I write back with “How about 10:30am on 10/20 at my office?” Then they would write back with, “Sorry, I have another meeting at that time. How about 5pm on 10/23?” Of course, that doesn’t work for me, so I write back, “Sorry, can’t do that time, how about 6pm?” This could go on for several days or years.

I am proposing a set of rules that we all in the field follow which I hope will make us more efficient and lessen our chances of getting punched in the pancreas.

The Official Rules for Scheduling Nonprofit Meetings

Rule 1, the List of Three: The meeting initiator must propose, in his initiation email, at minimum three dates and times of when he is available, these aforementioned times being preferably spread over several days. We use that line all the time: “Please let me know what works best for you.” That’s euphemism for “I want to sound thoughtful, but really I just don’t feel like looking at my calendar and proposing several dates that I’m free. Why don’t you do it, and I’ll see if it works for me.” Hell no. That’s lazy. You initiated the meeting; you look at your calendar. It takes a long time to look at my insane schedule to see three times that would work for me. Do you think I just sit in my cubicle watching clips of The Daily Show all day long? Of course not. There’s also the Colbert Report.

If none of the three times that the initiator proposed works for the meeting grantor, it is now the responsibility of the meeting grantor to set parameters (e.g, “this month is awful for me”) and propose a separate set of at least three times that work for him. This List of Three shall be perpetuated in turn by both parties until a mutually agreeable time is determined.

Rule 2, the Burden of Travel: The meeting initiator must bear more of the burden of travel when determining the meeting location. It is discourteous for the initiator to ask the grantor to come to his or her office, especially if it’s downtown, where parking fees tend to add up to Mitt Romney’s yearly tax savings. It’s like asking someone out. You make it convenient for them. You go and pick them up. You don’t say, “I’m so happy you agreed to go out with me. Can you pick me up at my place at 8?” What next, you ask them to drop by Tamarind Tree and pick you up some spring rolls on the way too?  Negotiations can be made to find a mutually acceptable venue, but overall, the initiator must bear the majority of the burden of travel.

Rule 3, the Courtesy of Confirmation: Meeting initiators are responsible to confirm the meeting before it happens, and to ensure the exchange of cell phone numbers in the event of lateness or last-minute cancelation. The other party may also confirm, though it’s not required. Whoever confirms, there should be no more than one confirmation per meeting.

Rule 4, the Payment of the Tab: If you initiated and you have an expense account, offer to pay if you’re meeting for coffee or lunch. If you don’t have one, you can still offer to be polite, or go Dutch. Most nonprofit workers don’t have expense accounts. We EDs of small organizations usually spend 50 bucks or more of our personal money each week on coffee meetings, lunches, dinner, etc. It’s OK; we like to think of the children (Specifically: “Those darn children! They never have to pick up a tab! No wonder their phones are nicer than mine.”)

Rule 5, the Price of Postponement: Once the meeting is scheduled, whoever is the latest to request to reschedule the appointment now bears the burden of picking up the tab. That’s right, you move our lunch appointment, you pay for lunch. You move it multiple times, I’m also ordering the most expensive dessert on the menu.

Rule 6, the Burden of Rescheduling: Whoever canceled the meeting for any reason now has the responsibility to reschedule the meeting, following Rule 1. If within a month this does not occur, the other party may follow up with a reminder, but the burdens of the List of Three, of travel, and of picking up the tab, all fall on the party that requested the reschedule. This reminder is the only time where it’s acceptable to send the line “let me know what works best for you” without having to include a List of Three.

Rule 7, the Role of the Assistant:  Assistants are wonderful and magical, like unicorns, and all of us would like to have one. But most of us do not. If you have one, ensure your assistant does not cause aggravation to those with whom they are trying to schedule a meeting. “Dear Vu, Edward would like to meet with you to discuss which baby animals are cuter, bunnies or baby porcupines, since this new study shows that looking at cute animals increases work place productivity. Are you free next Wednesday at 3pm to meet at our office downtown?”

As I mentioned in a previous post, out of collegial camaraderie, executive directors should never use their assistant to schedule a meeting with another executive director, unless the second ED has an assistant too. It’s like “Have your people contact my people,” but you have people, and I don’t have people. Most of us are our own people! And if your people have no scheduling skills, I may respond back with something like “I’m sorry, this year is really awful for me.”

These above rules are by no means comprehensive, and there are always exceptions. If you can think of other rules, please put them in the comment section. Overall, if we can agree to abide by a set of rules, it may make our work easier. I promise if you follow the ones above, I will not punch you in any internal organ. Rules for scheduling group meetings and conference call etiquette will follow later, after I catch up on the Daily Show.

We must prepare our organizations for the zombie apocalypse

Our part-time Development Director, Rachel, is psychic. Her gift is uncanny. She accurately predicted, for example, that we would not be getting this major grant that we had applied to. Now she has been freaked out because she senses an earthquake is going to happen, a big one that will cause bridges to collapse. So she asked the Red Cross to come to a VFA staff meeting a deliver a short training on earthquake preparedness.

“All right,” said David of the Red Cross, who has an awesome beard, “who has done some emergency preparation at home?” A couple of us raised our hands. “Great,” he said, calling on people, “what steps have you taken?” We threw out answers like bought a first-aid kit, got a hand-crank radio, flashlight, etc. I was hoping he wouldn’t call on me, because I’m not sure if squirreling away vodka and olives-soaked-in-vermouth counted as emergency preparation.

The session scared the hell out of us by making us realize several things. First, we are not prepared at home. None of us have a minimum of three days’ supply of water, for instance. “Ideally,” said David, “you want seven days. One gallon of water per person per day.” It doesn’t need to be fancy, he said. We could, for example, just use empty two-litter soda bottles and fill them with tap water and put them in the closet. “Also,” he said, “designate an out-of-state contact to relay information, since local phone lines will probably be tied up with thousands of people all simultaneously trying to contact their families. If you call someone out-of-state, though, it’ll much more likely get through.”

Second, we are not prepared at the office. “So if an earthquake happens right now,” said David, his awesome beard making him look and sound very wise, “what would you do first?” Panic, I said. We all laughed. (I am sure the Red Cross never heard that one). However, after the laughter came the sad realization that that is exactly what might happen in an emergency. During a severe earthquake, the cubicles will probably collapse. Especially mine, which is right next to my top-heavy bookshelf, something that will likely fall over, trapping me under my cube. Fires might break out from our poor electric wiring. Our building is old, so fortunately, the asbestos ceiling tiles will probably fall down and put out the fires.

Considering that many of us spend more time at the office than at home, nonprofits must do a better job with our own emergency preparations. Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of our clients. “If an emergency happens,” said David, “community members may be relying on you guys for leadership, information, and services.” Crap, we thought, that’s right. Although we don’t focus on emergency preparedness programs, people in the area may still come to VFA during emergencies, because we’re one of the few nonprofits they know. We have to set a good example and manage a semblance of organization should something happen.

Sufficiently terrified by the training—and all good emergency prep trainings are terrifying—the VFA staff started dividing up tasks. Teresa and Connie updated our first-aid kits. Rachel and James went to Grocery Outlet to buy nonperishable food, water, and tools like flashlights and batteries. Others cleared the VFA office of rusty chairs and other junk that could kill us.

I was transferring heavier items from the top of my bookshelf to the bottom, and thinking of how to secure the whole thing to the wall, when Rachel and James came back with our emergency rations. They had bought flashlights, canned goods, several gallons of water, a giant tub of peanut butter, and several boxes of Wheat Thins. They laid them out in the middle of the office on the floor, then promptly got caught up in other work and forgot about everything. Several hours later, the supplies were still in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, this is what happens with emergency prep. It becomes urgent for two seconds, then completely deprioritized.

“Clean this up!” I said, fuming. “During an earthquake, I don’t want us getting killed by the flying canned goods we got in preparation for the earthquake!”

Obviously, we have a long way to go. But now we have flashlights, whistles, updated first-aid kits, glowsticks, emergency blankets, a radio, other tools, and enough water and food to last us a few days.  This is very important, because even if Rachel is wrong and an earthquake doesn’t hit soon, I am sure that the zombie apocalypse is coming any time now. I can feel it. I am psychic too. After all, I did accurately predict that no one at VFA would be getting pay increases last fiscal year.

Being a nonprofit with balls, part 1

Recently, a new nonprofit came to meet me at the VFA office, which I appreciated, since I’m a very busy person, and meeting at my office allows me to watch a second episode of “The Daily Show” on hulu.com. This particular advocacy organization was trying to advance education in Seattle, and they wanted to see about collaborating with VFA. “Luke” came on time and was very friendly.

“Two separate people mentioned you, Vu, as someone we should talk to,” he said, beaming. He went on to present his concept, which was not altogether a horrible idea for advancing education. But I had this sinking feeling in my stomach. He was going to ask VFA to pull together a focus group.

“We’re trying to really engage communities of color, so we’re hoping you would do a focus group of 15 or 20 people for us to listen to.”

Every week, VFA gets some sort of request to rally our community members: “Vu, the seawall is breaking! Can you recruit several immigrants and refugees to give input?” The following week: “Vu, the combined sewers are overflowing! We want to get the Vietnamese community’s thoughts!” It is rarely anything fun: “Vu, a delegation is going to Hawaii to study the effects of hula and mild inebriation on nonprofit executives’ burnout rates, and we’d like you to come.”

“To be frank,” I said, “we are at capacity. We have only three full-time staff here at VFA running several programs and projects. I’m afraid that unless there are resources provided, I cannot ask my team to tackle any additional responsibilities.”

Luke looked perplexed and started talking about the importance of the effort he is trying to advance. I told him that if he wants effective collaborations, he should go to his funders and advocate for a more equitable financial support of organizations that are out there on the ground doing direct work so that we can have more capacity for advocacy. He became irritated and extremely defensive.

“Well,” he said, “I can’t go back to my funders and say ‘Vu won’t play ball unless we give him money.’ I can’t do that.”

Luke must be new to Seattle. In a city known for process and indirectness, it was rather refreshing to hear him talk.

“Play ball? Listen, Luke, we small ethnic nonprofits are knee-deep in balls! We have balls flying at us from every corner, from the City, from the County, from the School District, from organizations like yours. Usually without any funding to support our operations. We can’t juggle your balls for you!”

Kidding, I would never say that; at least, not while sober. What I said was, “The traditional ways of engaging communities of colors do not work. If you want to rally a few people to ‘listen’ to, then I am sure you can succeed in the short term. If you want long-term impact, I am telling you that you and others will need to shift your traditional way of doing and funding things. You can either hire a multicultural team of outreach staff, or you will need to work with cultural organizations; either way or preferably both, it will take resources because it takes much more effort to reach communities of color.”

He was visibly annoyed. “I am not looking for a handout, Vu,” he said, “you know what, if you just write down how much it’ll cost to pay for a few hours of someone’s time to call up people and how much facilities and food and other expenses will be, we’ll figure out a way to pay for them.”

I told him I didn’t have time to sit down and figure out his budget for him. And that even when there are resources, sometimes we have to turn down great projects because they do not align with our strategic plan.

“That really saddens me,” he responded, “and when this effort is huge and successful, and the Vietnamese community’s voice is missing, we’ll both understand why.”

I smiled. There was no point arguing further with him.

“All right,” he said, “how about this? We get lunch, you and I, and you bring just one Vietnamese client. Just one. You know what they say, the journey of ten thousand steps begins with one step, so can you do that? Just one client.”

“Luke,” I said—

“Just one!”

“Do you know what it takes to coordinate even something as simple as that? First I have to figure out which clients I know, then I have to call up four or five of them to see if any are interested. If one is interested, I have to find a slot that works with your schedule, my schedule, and this other person’s schedule. Also, I’d be more than glad to have lunch with you, but I am 90% certain that a client will not join, because they work during the day.”

Our time was up. I started feeling a pang of guilt. Perhaps I was a little too harsh. “Listen,” I said, “I want to be sure there is no misunderstanding between us—”

“Oh, there’s not,” he said, smirking, “I heard you loud and clear.”

“I don’t BS,” I said, staring him in the eye, “if you want real community engagement, help change the traditional way of doing things.”

I walked them out and sat down at my computer to write my follow up thank-you email. Was I out of line? Was I taking out some sort of unconscious frustration on Luke? I don’t doubt his or his organization’s intentions. Perhaps he just came at a bad time. Every month, we get a dozen similar requests, usually from well-meaning and well-funded organizations. The VFA staff work ridiculous hours managing programs and several capacity building and other projects. I’ve never worked with a more dedicated team. Is it unreasonable then for me to feel protective and to get annoyed at people like Luke, who seem to think we have unlimited time and that we are selfish when we refuse to “collaborate”?

Luke responded back, and we are having lunch in a couple of weeks. I’ll keep you updated. [Read Part 2]

Collective Impact: resistance is futile

In the past few years, the concept of Collective Impact has covered lots of ground, with great results. Concerted efforts can kick some serious butts. Look what Strive has accomplished. Characteristics of CI are a common agenda, shared measurements, mutually reinforcing activities, constant communication, a backbone organization, and monthly happy hours.

However, like taking naps at work, Collective Impact should be done strategically and sometimes not at all. Recently, I’ve started seeing it become more and more like the Borg in Star Trek, a species that assimilates other life forms in a quest for dominance and perfection. Controlled by a hive mind that neutralizes any sort of individualism, and comprising billions of annexed individuals, they are strong and terrifying, like an army of zombie robots, each with one eye that has a laser beam. Resistance is futile, since any entity that tries to put up a fight is either assimilated and loses its identity, or else destroyed.

That, unfortunately, is what it feels like sometimes by those of us on the ground, the nonprofits that work directly with individuals and families. While no one is arguing with the importance and effectiveness of collective impact, it can be a little frustrating. Three or four times this year, we were told by various funders we need to align with The Borg. (There are several great CI efforts all around, so by “The Borg,” I am not referring to any specific one). Program officers, who are the Sherpas on the oftentimes Everestian slopes of foundation applications, have seen this shift in paradigm and have been trying to be helpful. Once a while, I get a call like this:

Program Officer: I’m calling to provide some feedback on your proposal. Are you in a secure location?

Me: Yes. I just walked into the bathroom.

PO: You need to mention a little bit more about your work with the Borg. The review team is looking for projects that really align with the Borg’s strategy.

Me: All right, we can expand that section. Thank you.

PO: I never called you. This conversation never happened.

Sometimes, we actually align with the Borg, in which case I’m happy to expand on how wonderful it is to be assimilated into the Borg hive mind. But occasionally we do not align. Heck, once in a while it makes no sense to be. As powerful as the Borg are in Star Trek, they were never able to assimilate members of Species 8472, which looks kind of like bugs, but that’s neither here nor there. Species 8472 is just so biologically different and incompatible, assimilation would only lead to disaster. A parallel can be made with collective impact efforts that try to involve communities of color, who have unique strengths and needs. Oftentimes, the first instinct is to assimilate everyone under one umbrella, and that could work. However, sometimes it does not work, and it may not necessarily be anyone’s fault. Several umbrellas may be needed.

Another frustration I’ve seen is funders’ shifting the funding priorities from direct service work to collective impact efforts and backbone organizations. Queries about support for direct impact programs often come back with “Sorry, we are now prioritizing funding the Borg’s work. Maybe you should go talk to them.” This is extremely frustrating. While the push is for everyone to align with CI efforts, the funding is not equitable. Direct service organizations, especially the ones that focus on communities of color, can only be involved in these amazing, region-wide efforts if we are strong and stable and have credibility with our clients. VFA has been getting requests to join various CI efforts and we have become more and more involved. If we were to shut down our after-school, leadership, parental engagement, and community-building work, no one would approach us, because we would have no connection or credibility. In order for these major collective impact efforts to succeed, funders must continue funding direct service organizations in parallel.

Much more importantly, however, is that clients may not be able to afford the time that it often takes for Borg-like efforts to achieve perfection. CI usually takes years. A kid who is failing school or an elder who needs food doesn’t have years. I just talked to a principal of a school with 90% low-income kids of color. She would love a common agenda and shared measurements and fully supports the work in this area. But right now her school desperately needs an after-school tutoring program because many students are several grades behind and they go home to empty houses and get no support.

In the Star Trek universe, there are few things more terrifying than a Borg invasion. They sweep through and assimilate or destroy everything. They absorb all resources. Collective impact should not have to be like that. The premise for collective impact is that we can do things much better by working together than by working in isolation. This is a premise that all of us on the ground fully believe in. But funding must be equitable and direct service must be simultaneously supported.

Ask a nonprofit director: advice on love, marriage, and other stuff

Executive Directors are problem solvers. That’s why we get paid the big bucks. But why keep it to just nonprofit problems? We would make great advice columnists!

Dear Nonprofit Director: After a year of dating the girl of my dreams, I introduced her to my family and announced we were getting married. The reaction was warm but not enthusiastic. Neither set of our parents has offered to help with the costs of the wedding happening next year. How do we bring this subject up to them? Anxious in Anchorage.

Dear Anxious: Potential funders like your parents are not obligated to support your project. They may do so if it aligns with their priorities; you can present a clear argument with research and best practices, you yourselves are financially invested, and you can promise significant outcomes, e.g., grandchildren. Keeping your parents in the dark about your girlfriend for a year was a mistake, as transparency is always more effective in engaging your donors. Given these circumstances, I recommend you postpone this project a year or two in order to build up your infrastructure and strengthen your relationship with your potential funders.

Dear Nonprofit Director: My teenage daughter is incorrigible! I know all kids this age go through a rebellious phase, but it’s driving me crazy. She is sullen, lazy, disobeys curfews, gets poor grades, and neglects to do her one chore, which is to load up the dishwasher. That’s the one chore I ask her to do! When she’s not holed up in her room texting, she hangs out with her equally irresponsible friends. I’m at wit’s end! What should I do? Massively Overwhelmed in Minnesota

Dear MOM: First, own up your part in this. Did you give clear directions and expectations? Does she have a detailed chart with chores, metrics, and deadlines? Have you provided her with sufficient dishwasher loading training? When those things are taken care of, the problem will usually resolve itself. If not, ask yourself if this is a matter of fit. Sometimes, it’s just not a good match. Have a talk with your daughter to see if this is the right family for her. Whatever you do, document her behavior and your actions in writing so that liabilities are decreased in the unfortunate event you need to part ways.

Dear Nonprofit Director: My husband and I are thinking of having children. We are in our mid-30’s and love to travel. How do we know if we’re ready to settle? Ambivalent in Kansas City.

Dear Ambivalent: Do a SWOT analysis to determine your family’s strengths and weaknesses, as well as potential opportunities (tax incentives, having someone to take care of you in your old age, the chance to create a kid who might discover the cure for cancer) and threats (collapse of the Euro, zombie apocalypse, etc.). Sometimes a more extensive assessment, in which you solicit the feedback of key stakeholders, such as your financial advisor, may be helpful. It is important, though, that this new element aligns with your family’s mission, vision, and strategic plan.

Dear Nonprofit Director: I have a coworker, let’s call him Chuck, who is a total slob. Ugh! This guy never washes his dishes, just leaves them in the sink. We’ve been giving him hints, as well as posting a sign over the sink that says “Please wash your own dishes!!!!” No use! How do we get Chuck to see how his disgusting behavior is unprofessional and causing resentment? Yours, Fed Up.

Dear FU: Really? You come to me for this? Do you think this fiscal year budget is going to update itself?! When you have challenges with your coworkers, I expect you to first try to resolve the matter on your own before involving me. Go talk to Chuck directly, share your perspective on how his behavior is affecting your work, and negotiate on a solution. If that does not work, let me know and I will step in to mediate. Is that all? You’re dismissed.

Dear Nonprofit Director: I have a son who is not exactly the brightest, but he’s not all that dumb either. He’s just up in the clouds, with bunnies and unicorns, wanting to make the world better or something. That’s noble, but I’m afraid he’ll never get anywhere. And he’s not blessed enough to coast by on his looks or charms. How can I convince him to switch to a practical job like being a pharmacist? I hear they pay pretty well. The boy is kind of physically weak too, and you don’t have to lift much as a pharmacist. Concerned in Seattle.

Dear Concerned: Leave me alone, Dad!

“Ask a Nonprofit Director” is the premiere syndicated advice column on life issues from the perspective of an Executive Director. Read Part 2 with more questions and advice from an ED here. Send your questions to askanonprofitdirector@gmail.com. 

Feng Shui for nonprofits. Part 1: Attracting funding

Today’s post explores how we can use feng shui, which means “wind water,” to optimize the energy in our work space, not just so that we feel good while at work, but also so that our space attracts funding for our organizations. Now, I do not claim to be a feng shui expert, so keep that in mind while you read the tips below. If it makes you feel better, I did do some light Googling during commercials of Iron Chef while writing this post.

Makes sure your desk faces the entrance to your space. Never have your back to the entrance. Not only is facing the door symbolic of your being able to see and receive any opportunity that passes by, but you’ll also be much more successful watching your favorite shows on Netflix streaming. If for some reason you can’t move your desk or computer, place a mirror so that you can still see behind you.

Place a large money tree in the conference room, or wherever your board usually meets. Money trees attract wealth, and placing it where your board members meet provides them with energy to go raise funds. If the money tree starts to look unhealthy, it may mean that the board has been neglecting their fundraising duties. Get a new tree right away. And maybe a new board.

Have a lucky bamboo near you. They are really easy to take care of. Just stick them in some water with a handful of pebbles. The plant represents the element wood and provides a sense of growth, the pebbles represent earth and provide a sense of grounding, the water provides a flow of energy. That’s three out of the five feng shui elements. Throw in a paperclip to represent metal and tie a red ribbon around the bamboo to represent fire. When your bamboo dies (probably from the rusting paperclip), get a new one immediately to symbolize renewal.

Find out where the Gates Foundation is relative to your desk. Now get an award letter from a grant you received and tape it to the wall that’s lined up win the direction of the Gates Foundation.

Get a Care Bear. If you have a cranky coworker that you barely get along with, it distracts you and diverts good energy required for fortune to come in. Buy a Care Bear, and put it strategically in a place in your office between you and this person. Don’t get Grumpy Bear, though.

Make a thousand paper cranes. In Japan, a thousand paper cranes are made for special occasions, such as weddings, to symbolize luck, peace, and health. When you get a grant or other rejection notes, fold them into a crane. You’ll reach a thousand in no time.

Have at least 9 different things that bring you happiness. Pictures of your family, Farside cartoons, photos of cute baby animals, etc. The number 9 is especially lucky. For me, I have a whole bunch of mini bottles of alcohol. Having these items around bring me a dose of happy energy, especially effective before staff meetings.

Unclutter. Especially get rid of angular or pointy objects, or at least point them away from you. Sharp objects bring about bad energy, and having them directed at you is not good. If you must keep them, point them in the general direction of that coworker who leaves their dishes in the sink for days. Just kidding. Direct them at a plant, to absorb all that bad energy.

Surround yourself with leadership and management books. Yeah, you will never get around to reading them. However, these books bring good energy and knowledge, which you can absorb by osmosis. Why, just by having Jim Collin’s classic book in the office, VFA’s porcupine has gone from good to great on the flywheel. Or something like that.

Put up pictures of your favorite program officers. You can usually find them on foundation websites. Program officers are so dreamy, and their pictures will help increase the energy to bring in site visits. Just make sure you take the pictures down during any actual site visits, since restraining orders may bring negative energy to your work space.

With a few simple changes, you can improve the energy around your space, which will help to bring in fortune. In “Feng Shui for Nonprofits, Part 2,” we will talk about how the arrangement of tables, chairs, and where people are seated during meetings affect the energy around power. Gotta go. I have a few dozen cranes to fold.

EDiquette: 13 common courtesies every ED should follow

Once a month, we Executive Directors get together for ED Happy Hour, a time for all of us to share best practices, discuss the challenges of our field, and strategically plan for collective impact. At least, that’s what we tell people while we argue over topics like who would win in a fight, a hungover gladiator, or a ninja who accidentally took night-time cold medication? Last month, 13 ED’s got together, and the topic of ED-to-ED interaction came up. So, in a mostly sober state, we hammered out a list of common Executive Director etiquette, aka “EDiquette.” Here they are, in no particular order:

Ye Olde Liste of EDiquette

EDiquette 1: An ED will always have another ED’s back. For example, if another ED texts saying he’s having a bad day, we’ll drop everything to cheer that ED up. Unless we’re talking to a funder. Or playing Scramble with Friends.

EDiquette 2: An ED will not use his or her personal assistant to schedule a meeting with another ED, unless that other ED has a personal assistant too. This generally makes the ED without an assistant feel like crap and is not nice. Each time I get an assistant after directly emailing another ED, I am tempted to write back something like, “Please tell Her Royal Directorship, Mabel the Strategic, Successor to Julian the Programmatic, Successor to Edna the Founder, that I shall be glad to meet with her at noon on the 19th of May, and that upon my return to the office, I shall order my staff to sing her praise for seven and three fiscal years.”

EDiquette 3: An ED will not ask another ED to serve on his or her board. Unless it’s short-term and for a very strategic reason, such as turning a particularly challenging board around or bringing balance to a board/staff baseball game.

EDiquette 4: An ED will not fraternize with or poach another ED’s staff. Good staff on the team means we ED’s can work less while taking credit for more stuff, so it’s not nice for another ED to steal them, or groom them to be stolen later.

EDiquette 5: An ED will not ask another ED to be a table captain. We can, however, ask other ED’s to purchase individual tickets and be there for support. But, minimum donations do not apply to ED’s since we go to so many of these events and would be seriously broke if we had to give the minimum each time.

EDiquette 6: An ED will try not to look at another ED’s salary information on 990 Finder. And if she does–shame!–she will not admit to doing so. It is best to assume that all of us are equally underpaid.

EDiquette 7: An ED will not talk bad of another ED. Ex-ED’s who chose to leave are fair game, as they have scorned our noble position, and thus we are righteous to spake ill of them and curse their field to remain fallow and their livestock barren until the seventh generation.

EDiquette 8: An ED will not judge another ED’s coping methods. It is a stressful job, and each ED deals with it in a different way, be it drinking, or watching excessive amounts of TV, or making sock puppets resembling local program officers and having them act out scenarios where they fund our organizations. (What, like your Saturday nights are soooo much more exciting).

EDiquette 9: An ED will freely share templates. We don’t need to reinvent the wheels; it’s helpful when ED’s share their personnel handbook, anti-discrimination and harassment policy, succession plans, and recipes for simple yet elegant h’ordeuvres.

EDiquette 10: An ED will open doors to funders or other stakeholders when nicely asked by another ED. Especially when asked at a bar after the other ED has bought several rounds already.

EDiquette 11: An ED will not say to another ED, “You look tired.” That’s just a euphemism for “You look like crap.” We know this already. We have accepted the fact that ED’s age twice as fast as normal people.

EDiquette 12: An ED will be honest with another ED when asked about the performance of a staff who just applied for a position at the other ED’s organization. There are liability issues, so we are using a system of signals. One cough means “This person had a bad attitude and didn’t get along with the rest of the team.” A yawn means “This person was not good at following through.” A long sniffle followed by a sneeze means “This person may actually be one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

EDiquette 13: An ED will publicly admit to knowing another ED, especially in front of program officers, even if that other ED is embarrassing and says things like “I have a sock puppet that looks exactly like you.”

If you’re an ED, feel free to suggest other items (if you’re not on the EDHH mailing list, email me). And spread this list far and wide, especially to Their Royal Directorships, the ED’s who have assistants.

The Staff 360, an instrument of pain and enlightenment

About once a quarter, the VFA staff conducts what we call a “Staff 360,” a time dedicated for team members to give each other feedback in 8-minute one-on-one meetings. It’s like speed dating, but instead of talking about how much you love Modern Family, you give and receive constructive feedback that will help improve team dynamics and, more importantly, prevent people from hogging the entire bag of Tim’s Cascade jalapeno-flavored potato chips, which are like salty morsels of happiness and are meant to be shared with everyone in the office, James.

We started doing this over a year ago, when we realized that as a team we spend more time each week with each other than with our own family members, and that inevitably leads to misunderstandings. These misunderstandings, I’ve learned, when not properly handled, usually lead to conflicts that I have to step in as the boss to resolve. I am a busy person, with important executive things to do such as attending meetings and scheduling meetings to attend. I do not have time to resolve petty, ridiculous complaints like “Tony keeps leaving his dishes unwashed for days” or “Thanh never replaces the toilet paper roll when it’s empty” or “Vu, did you take care of the payroll situation?! We haven’t been paid in three months!!” etc.

Staff are encouraged to give each other feedback directly as things come up, and I schedule regular one-on-one time with team members. However, having a focused period of time for all of us to be able to simultaneously give everyone else on the team feedback puts us all in the mindset of constant improvement, learning, and fear. And since each round is only eight minutes long, everyone has to get to the point very quickly. Last week, we had the winter Staff 360.

“All right,” I said, glancing at each of the seven faces staring at me around the conference table, “you know the three basic rules regarding feedback that we learned from our coach Colleen. First, discuss tangible behavior, not personality. Focus on what someone should keep doing, do more of, or do less of. Try to be specific, with examples.

“Second, assume the best intentions, both when you’re giving feedback, and when you’re receiving it. What’s the last rule?” They looked at each other. “Uh,” ventured one staff, “don’t stab people when they give you feedback?” “Yes,” I said, “we do not want a repeat of the 2010 annual dinner post-mortem.”

“Overall,” I continued, “we are not our feedback. Feedback is just how other people experience us. We don’t have to agree with anything anyone says. Unless I say it. Ha ha, just kidding. Kind of.”

We broke up into different corners of the office. One of the staff volunteered to be the timekeeper. I claimed the conference room and worked to cultivate an aura of the enlightened leader, one who is confident and decisive, yet also approachable and understanding. Being an enlightened leader, I had spent time the previous evening during commercial breaks of the Walking Dead writing up notes on each staff’s strengths and areas for improvement.

A staff walked in. “How’s it going, Kevin?” I said, using pseudonyms for this post, except for James, who needs to go easy on the jalapeno chips.

It is surprising how much information can be delivered in eight minutes when both parties are prepared. When we first started implementing this system, the staff were resistant. During the first few Staff 360’s, there would always be some excuses for skipping, such as bird flu or emergency amputation. However, as we do more and more of them, they started growing on us. When everyone is simultaneously giving and receiving feedback, it doesn’t seem as personal. It actually became sort of fun, like flossing. Plus, it’s not just giving constructive feedback, but also showing appreciation, which as a society we don’t do enough of.

“Under the category of ‘keep doing,’” I said, “I really appreciate the energy you bring to the office. Things are just more fun when you’re around, and it makes me look forward to work each day. I appreciate how thoughtful you are, especially with new team members, taking time to show them the ropes in addition to all your other work. I know you stayed at the office until 9pm last night preparing for today’s program. Thank you for all you do to make VFA great.”

“Sorry,” I said, turning away, “it’s my allergies; it makes my eyes water.” I went into feedback on what he could improve on, then it was Kevin’s turn to give me feedback. “Time’s up,” yelled the timekeeper after eight minutes, “switch!” Kevin left and a new staff, Thanh, entered. Thanh is not directly under my supervision, so I didn’t have much feedback to give her. This was a chance to check in to see how she’s doing, and maybe schedule a follow-up one-on-one.

We did seven rounds in about an hour and fifteen minutes. The staff are always very thoughtful with their feedback. One said, “You have to spend more time cultivating sponsors and donors. Less freaking out and micromanaging. Seriously, we can handle most things here while you’re gone. Just answer your emails faster. Also, have you tried Proactiv? It works for my cousin…”

Sometimes, I don’t agree with the feedback.

“You can’t keep using unicorns for all your jokes. Yesterday, you were like ‘I went to this law firm for a meeting, and it was ridiculously nice, I think their conference table is made out of unicorn horns.’ You use unicorns for everything.” Unicorns are always funny, I thought, slightly resentful of this criticism. But if it bothers him, I can reduce references to them.

After the final round, the whole team gathered for a quick, 15-minute discussion on simple things we can do to make the office better. The energy after the speed-feedback session is always great. Everyone feels both heard and appreciated. Someone suggested more plants in the office. Someone else recommended we pick a new restaurant each month and go as a team for lunch.

“We don’t get any sunlight in this office,” a staff said, “we should find a grant to build a skylight!” We all laughed.

“Yeah,” I said, “after we get a grant to buy a unicorn!”

Look, habits take a while to break.

Being a nonprofit with balls, part 2

Two weeks ago I had lunch with Luke, whom you may recall from “Being a Nonprofit with Balls.” Luke had come to VFA a couple of months ago asking us to rally 15 to 20 community members for a focus group. I had just woken up from my daily ED power nap and was kind of groggy and in no mood to be accommodating, so we got into a fistfight. Of course, this the nonprofit field in Seattle, so by “fistfight” I mean that we threw big concepts, hoping to wound each other with phrases like “authentic engagement” and “equity.” I told him that we small ethnic nonprofits are overwhelmed with similar requests from well-meaning organizations who are trying to be “inclusive” and that we just didn’t have staff capacity to do it and that he should go back to advocate for more equitable funding if he really wanted to authentically engage the communities of color.

We decided to have lunch, and I was looking forward to it. While I thought Luke’s approach was ineffective, I appreciated his refreshing directness. He arrived on time at my favorite restaurant. Since he was technically my elder, I poured him tea.

“So, how did you get to where you are?” I asked. He told me of his journey and of his philosophy on life, which is basically that if you serve others selflessly, the Universe will reward you.

“I moved up here, didn’t have a job. I was at this event, and I met Ted, who is a millionaire. He told me about this thing he’s trying to do to improve education, so I said that sounds great, how can I help? And he gave me a job.”

“That’s great,” I said, wishing that I knew more millionaires so I could be selfless around them.

“Listen,” he said, “that thing with asking you to put together a focus group, that was garbage.”

“It’s OK,” I said, “we get asked all the time. We know people mean well.”

“It’s just, how do we get the communities to the table? We keep inviting them.”

For the past several months, I’ve been on this bent about community engagement and funding equity, especially around education. After talking to Luke, I realize that he’s a nice guy, but his approach is very indicative of the standard approach to community engagement, which has gone nowhere. People wonder, Why are the communities of color refusing to join our table? We’ve invited them countless times. Don’t they want to work with us? We’ve prepared place settings for them and everything!

The reality is that whoever hosts the table has the majority of the power. They can shift people’s seats around, kick them out, refuse to share the recipe for coconut cornbread, or whatever. It is challenging to have authentic engagement when people feel like guests at a table and not a co-host. “Inviting” people to the table is not enough, since this is symptomatic of not engaging people at square one, when the table was being created in the first place.

“Community engagement must begin at square one,” I said. “Too often efforts get to square three or four, usually well-supported by funding at each step of the way, before people stop to realize, ‘Hold on, we’re not doing a good job reaching underrepresented communities.’ They scramble and backtrack, but it may be too late, since funding usually has been allocated without these communities in mind. So then we get asked to participate without being provided resources.”

“Another thing,” I said, “the people most impacted need to lead the effort. This is especially true with an issue like education, where the ‘achievement gap’ is basically kids of color. If this is the civil rights issue of our time, then the people most impacted need to be in the front leading. Allies and supporters are critically important. This work cannot be successful without then, especially since they have the relationships with funders. But they must be on the side or behind supporting the people most affected by inequity. Too often we see well-meaning people coming into the neighborhood saying ‘Hey, we know what works best for you. Come join and support our efforts!’”

“Also, people think that presence equals engagement. I’ve been to numerous ‘community input’ events that are fully attended by diverse communities. VFA has rallied our community members to these events. They have interpreters and UN-style headsets, and the room looks beautiful and inspiring, and no doubt pictures of the event will be posted everywhere afterward as proof of how effective the outreach and engagement was. Many of our community members leave going ‘Huh?’ Then they don’t see any results and feel that their time was wasted, and VFA loses credibility with them for inviting them. They may not understand all the concepts presented, but they know enough to feel shafted and tokenized. Presence is only one-half of engagement.”

“Here, try this vegan lemongrass chicken,’” I said, taking a break from my lecture, which I realized had been welling up for the past few years. “Having names on a list does not indicate engagement,” I continued, “VFA and other ethnic nonprofits get asked to join various coalitions and efforts. Because we are so busy doing direct service, we sometimes say ‘Yeah, go ahead, sign us up and use our name. We’ll drop by occasionally.’ This is a horribly destructive practice, as it stymies responsibility on our part to actively lead in the effort, and it reinforces the system of funding inequity and poor engagement. Funders looking at this list of ‘members’ may not be aware of how actively engaged they actually are. Heck, some organizations on the list may no longer even exist.”

“Finally,” I said, “direct service organizations have tremendous potential for advocacy. After all, they work directly with families and know their needs and can mobilize them to change policies and practices. But we are not funded to do that stuff.”

This was a lot of information to take in. We paused for a while to eat our food. “So what can I do to help?” he asked. I thought about it for a second. For the past year and a half I’ve been involved with the Southeast Seattle Education Coalition (SESEC), which is mobilizing the communities of color and allies to work together to improve education in Southeast Seattle. This is one of the few efforts actually led by the local communities of color to address the achievement gap. We are tired of being “invited” to the table. We must be a table. Trouble is, communities of color are not as connected to funders and decision makers, so we’ve been struggling with funding.

“Introduce me to your millionaire friend Ted,” I said, “I want to talk to him about SESEC.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. We continued our conversation until the bill came. “I’ll pay,” I said, but Luke insisted on getting it. I could have fought for the bill, or at least to pay for my share, but I knew he felt some guilt, and this was his way of appeasing. I let him pay. I guess it’s my way of being selfless.

Last week, Luke emailed me saying he had talked to Ted and that Ted was willing to meet with me. I followed up to schedule a meeting. I am going to meet with a millionaire. Will keep you updated. [Read Part 3]

We need more shows about nonprofit work

Like most executive directors, I come home exhausted from hours of telling staff what to do and taking credit for their work. To de-stress, I’ve started watching ridiculous amounts of television. And I started noticing something. There are plenty of shows about lawyers, doctors, detectives, cooks, servants, zombies, etc., most of them featuring attractive actors who spend endless episodes in frivolous romantic triangles with one another (except the zombies).

Unfortunately, not one of these shows is about nonprofit directors. What kind of example does that set for our kids? Do show producers think we are boring? Do they not realize how incredibly exciting our work is? In either case, I am going to write to David E. Kelley with an idea for a show, called “ED,” featuring a group of Executive Directors of several nonprofits. The show will explore their struggles helping to improve the world while balancing family and other obligations. It will chronicle the hard choices they have to make; the triumphs and challenges; and the friendships they develop, usually through happy hours. There are tons of exciting stuff to mine from the nonprofit world.

Pilot episode: A meeting room at the Coalition for Excellence (CFE). Tension so thick you could carve a statue out of it. Maria, the ED, prepares to present a cashflow report. Things do not look good, and she knows it. Meanwhile, at another nonprofit, Think of the Children (TOTC), Troy is furiously typing. He cries out in pain, cursing his email-induced carpal tunnel syndrome. But this grant is due tomorrow, and it’s a general operating grant! At another nonprofit, Unicycles for Guns (UFG), Vinh, a particularly dashing Asian ED, has a flashback. He is sitting in front of his parents at dinner. He tells them he is pursuing a Master’s in Social Work. They are silent, the sound of their chopsticks clinking on porcelain bowls mournful and ominous. He snaps back to the meeting he’s having with his Development/Human-Resources/Finance-Director/Janitor, Loan. She is tired of having multiple responsibilities and wants to a clearer work plan.

Episode 2: Maria’s board has voted to apply for a line of credit. This is a small victory, short-term. They did not seem to understand that fundraising efforts will need to increase. Staff morale, meanwhile, is down. She calls her Program Director, Arlene, into her office to plan a teambuilding retreat with no funding. At UFG, Vinh’s back hurts from endless hours of meetings. He holds in his hand a grant letter. He is afraid to open it; it could be a rejection. He decides to get it over with, when his phone rings. It’s Troy from TOTC; he got the grant he wrote and is calling, ecstatic, to invite Vinh to happy hour. Vinh looks at the letter in his own hand. “While we had many qualified applicants…” He retraces steps in his mind. Did he talk too much during the site visit? He felt like a failure, imagining all the kids now who couldn’t trade their guns for unicycles.

Episode 3: The Coalition for Excellence wildly succeeds at its annual dinner, and Maria has a good night’s sleep for the first time without Ambien. At TOTC, Troy welcomes an influential board member that he had been pursuing for months, Louis, whom he does not know had a relationship with Maria. He also does not know that Louis has loyalties to Think of the Children’s competitor, Care for the Children (CFTC)! The smart and inexplicably sexy Vinh, meanwhile, finds a coupon for 20% off reams of copy paper. He rushes to Office Depot. Little does he know that at that moment Loan is plotting with the board Treasurer to get Vinh fired.

In the season finale, viewers are left with cliff-hangers: Will Maria get together with Louis? Will Louis destroy Troy’s organization?! Can Arlene find a pro-bono facilitator for the team-building retreat??! Will Vinh be able to carry a ten-ream box of copy paper with his bad back and carpal tunnel???!

If that’s not compelling television, I don’t know what is. I’m going to develop a more detailed script for the pilot episode. Maybe I should add a zombie or two. If they don’t like “ED,” I also thought of another show, one from the perspectives of spouses of Executive Directors and what they go through. It’ll be called “Living with ED.”