Think Beyond What Is Just Barely Enough

I started my career in nonprofits, where I learned to work with minimal or inadequate resources.

At my first organization, that meant using a computer with a 6+-year-old operating system.

It meant creating an engaging public program using junk we found at the recycling center.

It meant inheriting a broken office chair and making do.

It sometimes even meant supplying my own pens because office supplies just weren't in the budget.

Our staff knew when the once-a-month board meeting was happening, because the parking lot would be full of Mercedes and BMWs rather than our staff's usual barely-hanging-on vehicles. Parking wasn't provided, and I wouldn't have been able to afford a car on my salary anyway, so I walked a mile and a half to and from work every day, in all weather (uphill both ways! 😜).

Fast forward to my second nonprofit, where I hoped for more.

At least we had pens in this office! My modest step up in salary meant that my boyfriend and I could purchase a basic, used, black 2001 Honda Civic. It didn't have working air conditioning, but it got us from here to there, and was definitely a step up from hoofing it around the city. Now my boyfriend could pick me up!

One day, our staff headed out to a public event and I raised my hand to ride along with the executive director. I still remember the feeling of walking out to the parking lot and seeing her car for the first time.

It wasn't my best moment, because I was truly caught off guard. I halted in my tracks and actually said out loud, "Wait a minute, this isn't right. We drive the same car." There, in front of me, was her almost identical, beat-up 2001 Honda Civic (but green).

The scrappy culture of nonprofits shaped my worldview not only at work, but in life.

At first, I embraced it as virtuous: Limited resources means opportunities to get creative! Mission-driven work means sacrifice! It's all worth it in the name of the cause!

The promise of a brighter future—that as long as I put in my time and climbed the ladder, I'd "arrive"—kept me eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and splitting a two-person apartment with three people. If I just kept working and rose higher than the junior level, things would finally get better for me.

But in that moment, standing in front of my executive director's car, my shoulders sank and I realized that the promise of that bright future might actually be a lie. There wasn't going to be a point where we'd stop just barely scraping by—the field is chronically under-resourced, stretched to the point of breaking, and pressured to sacrifice in the name of the mission. The executive directors drive old Honda Civics, and the nice pens are never coming.

And this is absolutely not okay.

[I could launch into the problematic history of nonprofit funding and how it assumes that operational and staffing needs are a waste. ("What portion of your dollar actually goes to programming, really?" all of the charity guides ask, as if it doesn't take the labor of talented people to make effective and impactful programming happen.) But if you want to hear more about this, Dan Pallotta is your man.]

This is not just a nonprofit problem. It extends across sectors.

Last summer, I listened to a book called Out of Office by Anne Helen Peterson and Charlie Warzel about reshaping our relationship to the office after the disruption of the pandemic.

Arguing that if companies actually listened to employees, it would enhance profitability, they wrote:

"Productivity is the byproduct of a workforce that has had its needs met."

Hearing that was another stop-in-my-tracks moment.

When was the last time that you, as a worker, actually had your needs met?

As my own boss, I am trying to shift my habits and model what it looks like to operate beyond the bare minimum. I don't want to be scrappy. I want to have resources that match the challenges our business is taking on, and I think you, as my clients, want that, too.

I buy the big pack of my favorite Paper Mate Flair colorful felt tip pens and the name-brand post-its in my brand colors because I'm done scraping by.

I model what it looks like to take yourself on a two-night retreat in a hotel with a water view away from my family because I believe we need to normalize that women need space to restore ourselves and generate big ideas.

I invested in a new computer that had more capacity for RAM than I needed because I want to have more than just barely enough to scrape by.

And this past weekend, at the age of 37, I picked up my new car. My dream car. A car that I bought for myself because of a business that I built myself (with the support of incredible clients, collaborators, and my husband).

This time, it's not just "good enough." It's a safe and comfortable car in a color that genuinely brings me joy (and is on brand, duh). The air conditioning not only works, I have heated seats, too. This is a major milestone for me, a long way from living with a broken office chair. And I'm really excited.

I let go of the question, "How can I make do?" and instead allowed myself to ask: "What do I want?"

👉🏻 Wherever you are in your career, ask yourself:
- How might work look different for you if your needs were met?
- What resources do you need (supplies, time, funds, staffing) to effectively do your job?
- What do you want? (It's okay to want things!)

Organizations—nonprofits and otherwise—are notoriously bad at lining up the proper resources to take on the problems they're trying to solve. We're continually asked to do more with less, stretching ourselves further in the name of the team.

All of this scrappiness, this scarcity, this scraping by is unquestionably a major factor leading to our burnout.

If you're a leader: figure out how to meet the needs of your workforce. And if you tell me you can't, then scale back on what you're trying to do in order to even out the equation. Because we can't keep going like this.

If you're an individual working within a system that continually asks for more with less: please buy yourself some nice pens. Do one thing (big or small) to not only meet your needs, but give yourself a little extra, too. You deserve it.