I Keep Ending Up in the Room Where Someone Says, “Who’s Going to Do This?”

There is a dangerous moment in every committee meeting.

Someone identifies a problem. Everyone agrees it should be addressed. There is productive discussion. A few good ideas get tossed around.

Then comes the question.

“So, who's going to do this?”

This is the moment when I should become extremely interested in my notes.

Instead, far too often, I hear myself say some version of: “I can do it.”

This is how things happen to me.

Or, more accurately, this is how I happen to myself.

Being capable is a trap. A nice trap, but still.

There is an interesting thing that happens when people know you can get things done.

They ask you to get things done.

The problem is that being capable of doing something and being the correct person to do it are two completely different questions.

Could I make the flyer? Probably. Could I write the email? Yes. Could I organize the information? Sure.

Does that mean I should?

Ah.

Different question.

Twenty-minute tasks have a way of becoming a second job when you collect enough of them.

Community work makes this especially complicated.

I care deeply about where I live and work. I believe local businesses, organizations, events, and places where people participate matter.

None of that happens automatically. Every community has people doing invisible work: boards, events, fundraisers, grants, public meetings, volunteer shifts, emails, chairs, signs, and the thing somebody is fixing at 7:15 Saturday morning because nobody thought about it until 7:14.

A lot of what makes a community feel like a community exists because someone decided to care enough to do something.

I also think we need to be honest about what happens when “someone” repeatedly becomes the same small group of people.

The people who show up get asked to show up more.

If you attend the meeting, you hear about the next meeting. If you help with the event, someone learns you're helpful. If you successfully organize something once, congratulations: you now possess experience organizing that thing.

See you next year.

Eventually, ten very involved people are sitting in a room discussing how desperately they need more people to get involved.

Every community organization in America just felt something.

There is a difference between participating and becoming responsible for everything.

You can care without leading. You can attend without organizing. You can contribute an idea without volunteering to personally execute it. You can say, “I can help with this piece,” without adopting the whole project.

The question I'm trying to ask more often isn't whether I can help. It's whether this is the place where my time is most useful.

More people need to step forward.

This isn't an argument that people should volunteer less.

Quite the opposite.

Small contributions matter enormously when they're spread across a lot of people.

Twenty people doing one thing each is much more sustainable than two people doing ten things each.

A community should not depend entirely on its most exhausted volunteers.

I am probably still going to say yes.

I like being involved. Some of the most meaningful things I've done have happened because I raised my hand. I just want to get better at understanding what showing up needs to mean.

Sometimes it means leading. Sometimes it means doing the work. Sometimes it means helping someone else do the work.

And sometimes, when someone asks, “Who's going to do this?” it might mean giving everyone else a few extra seconds before I open my mouth.

I'm working on it.