I live off a gravel road in Central Pennsylvania. I’m near major roads – I’m not in the boonies, but my road is not paved. There are only two houses on this road – which stretches a few hundred feet – maybe 300. We’re each set back 50 – 100 feet from the gravel road. These distances can feel long when we get a heavy wet snow like we did this weekend. Because it’s not an official township road, the township doesn’t plow for us (not usually). My neighbor and I pay someone to plow the road. It’s not always timely, and it’s dependent on the amount of snow. there is an amount that is maybe too much to drive over and too little to plow… That can be a pain. But… quite honestly, this is a lot of preamble to an extended metaphor.
I was out shoveling the drive and, at times, thinking about work. I’m the director of a small nonprofit that tries to do some good in the community. I get frustrated with my job – a lot. I seldom feel like I’m making much progress on the things that really matter. I have a never-ending to-do list, and I know the solution is not to work more, and I’m not even sure if it’s to work smarter. Most of the pressure I feel at work is self-imposed, and there are a lot of days when it feels like too much and it’s overwhelming. Still preamble here, but you can probably tell where I’m going.
As I shoveled my driveway, I started to think about the comparisons between shoveling and managing a small nonprofit (or really work, in general). As I played through the metaphor, I thought, this is exactly the type of shit people eat up on LinkedIn… Basic business wisdom framed in the mundane tasks of everyday life. So sure, why not….
The first observation, I suppose, is to know your capacity and manage expectations. Had I gotten out there to find that I’d have to shovel the entire road, I probably would have gone back inside, lit a match to the house and said this isn’t worth it – or maybe just had a good cry. Fortunately, a plow took care of the gravel road part. The plow could symbolize larger nonprofits, or government, or systems, or really anything that’s designed to clear the way quickly. Now sometimes, the plow takes out a mailbox. Sometimes it plows me in, and it often leaves behind this briny substance that isn’t great for the environment, but helps cut through the ice. Plows are quick and effective. They have tremendous capacity, but could be described as a little clumsy. In serving the greater good, they sometimes cause minor harms.
The second observation is about having the right tools. If it’s just a dusting, I’ll use a broom, but on the heavier stuff, I’m still old school with the shovel. I haven’t broken down and bought the snowblower yet, mostly because it doesn’t seem worth it for the size of my driveway and the frequency with which I would use it. Shoveling is harder. It takes more time, and I’m a lot sorer than if I had a snowblower, but it’s the tool I have, it does the job, and it sometimes does a better job of getting down to the surface below. Though if it’s an old, beat up shovel, it can kinda suck as it stops short with a bone shaking thud on every bump. At this point, I’d like to remind you that we’re still thinking metaphorically and about capacity and maybe about getting down to the surface of things and ensuring you have the right tools for the job.
The third observation is about effort and strategy. There were times I walked away from the task. I wasn’t quitting, but I needed a break. I came in to get warm, to catch my breath, to break the work up into manageable chunks. As I shoveled, I would sometimes switch my position or move to a different spot. As I got to some spots where the snow was a little deeper, I had to take smaller scoops and slow my progress. Big tasks often require approaching them from multiple angles and with different levels of gusto.
I suppose the last observation is about perseverance. The end of the drive, where the plow had made a mess of things is, by far, the hardest part. The snow is deep, compacted, and heavy. This is when I start to calculate what constitutes good enough and then go a little beyond that. I don’t need to clear the entire snowbank, but it would be good to clear enough so that my turns in and out of the driveway are free and clear. This is also when I feel that light at the end of the tunnel satisfaction. Nobody is here to tell me I did a nice job of shoveling, and quite honestly, it’s not the type of work that requires or deserves praise. It simply needs to get done. Nevertheless, the breakthrough from my drive to the gravel road motivates me to finish. Stick it out long enough, take appropriate scoops, measure progress – and eventually get a breakthrough.
There are plenty of spots where this extended metaphor / analogy falls short. I suppose I should try to say something about teamwork and cooperation…. To that end, if we could communicate our needs better (the plow, my neighbors, and me) we’d probably have a more efficient system. But for now, everyone doing their jobs means that we / I can get out of my house safely and in a timely manner. And once I’ve done that, I can look around to see if anyone else needs help. I should also point out that when my dog was out with me and wanted to play – I got very little shoveling done – there’s something to be said for minimizing distractions.
I manage a small nonprofit. With greater resources, we could be a bit more like a snowblower or a plow, but for now, we’re a little like one guy shoveling his driveway. I’ve spent the last year trying to dig out – learning where the driveway ends, how often it snows, and how deep that snow can get. I use the tools I have available to me and I clear the snow as fast as my shovel and back will allow. When I think about the role an organization like mine typically plays, it’s to survey the entire neighborhood and direct resources to where they’re needed. I don’t think our job is to be the plow – the government does that job fairly well and already owns or contracts with several plows. I think our job is the clear those hard to clear snowbanks so that people can access the roads. It’s to empower and motivate others to help. It’s to design and support networks of care so that nobody is snowed in or cut off from the things they need.