Back when dinosaurs roamed the suburbs — and by dinosaurs, I mean people who freely brought food to funerals and joined the PTA without needing to be bribed with Starbucks gift cards — volunteering wasn’t a big decision. It was just something people did.
You saw a need, you signed up. You wore your name tag proudly and walked around with a clipboard like it meant something.
Even if you had already decided to say no, all it took were four magic words: “We really need you.” And like some Pavlovian parental reflex, you’d hear yourself reply, “Of course! What do you need?”
There’s no logical explanation for it. Most volunteers are the busiest people you know. Their grocery lists read like disaster prep guides, and their carpool schedules could double as doctoral theses in logistics. And yet