There are days in nonprofit life when you wake up, review your to-do list, take a deep breath, and think, “Okay. I’ve got this.”
And then by 10:14 AM, your list is in flames, your inbox has declared war, your grant report is three days late, and someone just asked you to do “a quick thing” that will actually take six hours, three spreadsheets, and at least one small sacrifice to the WiFi gods.
You know the days I mean.
This is a field where nothing goes as planned. Ever. You write a solid, thoughtful grant proposal, dreaming of what your team could build with $50,000. The grantmaker smiles gently, tells you they LOVE your work, and sends you $25,000 instead.
What do they think you’re going to do? Hire half a person? (“This is Chris. Chris works Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 pm to 1:03 pm and only accepts tasks he can do with his left hand. No, we don’t pay him enough to use both of his hands.”)
Meanwhile, every crisis you’ve ever seen on your calendar comes to life like a flash mob. Everyone needs something immediately, three volunteers just called off, the copier is out of paper again, and your laptop and printer are having a passive-aggressive standoff. They won’t talk to each other, and no, they will not consider couple’s counseling. You checked.
At this point, you haven’t had lunch. You haven’t peed. And every time you pick up a piece of paper from your desk, it bites you. (Why do you keep getting paper cuts from your time-off request form? That just feels personal.)
And let’s talk about time off. You know what vacation looks like in nonprofit land? It’s not rest. It’s just concentrated panic before and after, crammed into two extra-long weeks. Because if you dare to step away, the universe somehow finds out and responds by unleashing All The Things. “Oh, you’re out of the office? Cool cool cool, so we’re gonna have a technology crash, a donor emergency, a client kerfuffle, and also—surprise site visit!”
Oh, and it’s June. It’s Pride Month. So while you’re juggling flaming batons and existential dread, you’re also trying to wear a boa and be fabulous. You’re walking into meetings with glitter in your hair and exhaustion in your eyes, whispering, “I am the sparkle. I am the sparkle,” while your copier blinks at you like a disappointed aunt.
All you asked for was a stepladder. Just a little boost. Something to help you reach the shelf and get your balance.
Instead, they gave you uneven parallel bars.
And somehow, somehow… you’re swinging through them. Not gracefully. Not easily. But you’re doing it. In sneakers, with a clipboard, and probably trailing a little rainbow glitter.
And that, my friend, is nonprofit excellence in action.
This blog post was written with human ideas and AI assistance for organization and is meant for entertainment only.