So you think volunteering is a noble, altruistic act? Maybe you’re right. But have you calculated the mathematics of what, on the surface, is a seemingly selfless undertaking?
Sure, a little bit of goodwill and time dedicated to a worthwhile cause is hard to argue against. Fortunately, though, that’s what I do here. First off, there are two things that go hand-in-hand to form the fist of altruism: volunteering and donating. We all remember the middle-school mantra of geometry class stating, “All squares are rectangles, but not all rectangles are squares.” But is volunteering the square or the rectangle in this analogy?
When you donate money, you are volunteering money out of your own free will and good Samaritan love for your fellow man . . . or animal, plant, bacteria, Yeti search, or whatever else. We’ll forego the debate of whether it’s considered a “donation” if requested by someone, rather than pumped straight out of that two-sizes-too-big heart of yours. (But I’ve added that argument to my expansive list.) Even though the boss strong-arms everyone into giving to United Way, you can still, technically, wiggle free from his donation encouragement. So all donating is volunteering, but not all volunteering is donating.
Then again, any volunteering is a donation of your time. And what’s more valuable than time? Money can be earned, spent, re-earned, donated, re-re-earned, poorly invested into fledgling cryptocurrency, worked hard for to get back into your coffers, used as TP like our Venezuelan friends of yore, and repeated ad nauseam. But outside of science fiction, once time passes, it’s gone. So I’d say all volunteering is donating, as well. Maybe the saying should be something like this: “All bourbon is whisky, all scotch is whisky, and it’ll all get you drunk.” Not the greatest mantra for a 6th grade class, but at least it’s true.
Scenario time. Let’s say your take-home pay is $200,000 a year after finagling your taxes. Assuming the standard 40-hour workweek (I’m partial to about 25/week, personally), that means you make about $96 per hour. Cushy gig. You probably have a nice big home, a couple fancy cars, toys galore, not to mention a mortgage, car payments and student loan debt. But hey, living the American dream, amirite? One night, while sipping on a rocks glass of Pappy Van Winkle 20 Year Family Reserve you and Sparky see that devastating commercial for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals on your Hisense 100” 4K UHD Smart Laser TV. His whimper triggers the realization that the two of you have it pretty good. Feeling the call to help, but not wanting to see pictures of suffering puppies, you search for the ol’ charity standby, Habitat For Humanity. You see there are a couple volunteer sights in the next town, but your soft hands and manicured nails that haven’t seen manual labor in decades tap on the “Hope Fund” link. This is the correct decision.
You donate money, rather than time, because that expensive degree you got all those years ago from that overpriced liberal arts University taught you the very minimum math needed to solve the volunteering -vs- donating conundrum. If you can pay someone a lower wage than you make per hour at your job, than volunteering your time is equivalent to taking food out of a day-laborer’s child’s belly. Simultaneously, you admit to your bosses that you’re being grossly overpaid for your time and efforts. I would go so far as to decree that anyone choosing to volunteer their time given the situation above would be doing more harm to their community than the good they planned on providing.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful that Brad Pitt delivered Thanksgiving meals to low-income families in South Central LA this past week. I don’t think anyone could argue, though, that Michael Jordan’s $2 million donation to Feeding America will help quite a few more people than his handsome cohort’s hours of volunteering did.
If higher earners ceased volunteering completely, instead substituting their hourly wage multiplied by the number of hours they would have volunteered, non-profit companies relying on volunteers could begin to hire their workers. More jobs mean decreased unemployment. The quality of work should increase with these paid, trained employees. More quality work leads to the quantity of work in a given time period increasing as well. Gone are the elderly volunteers unable to work more than 30 minutes without a break. No more high school kids incessantly snapping selfies for their Instagram while whittling down the hours needed to qualify for National Honor Society. Absent, too, are the “volunteers” with one disproportionately sized ankle asking the project manager to sign their papers at the end of each day.
For those of us not raking in $200K a year, the argument for volunteering being best is an understandable one. But, the time spent volunteering could be better spent dedicated to self-improvement that will ultimately result in greater earnings. Income that will lead you closer to the Mr. Manicure threshold where monetary donations would make more sense. Just like we forgo spending money today to invest for long-term retirement goals, we can forgo volunteering now, investing instead in education that serves to maximize benefit in the future.
Ultimately, donations benefit everyone. Jobs are created—helping individuals and stimulating the economy. Volunteers are no longer needed—these folks can now direct their precious time elsewhere. A side effect of the well-to-do donator’s apparent altruism is an ever-growing portfolio and padded 401(k). It’s difficult to contemplate, but volunteering your time might just be a selfish endeavor.
So, you still think volunteering is a noble act of altruism? If everyone stopped volunteering, and my fantasy world emerged, a portion of the economy would become dependent on the constant donations of high-earners. And if there’s one thing people living the good life strive for, it’s living an even better one. The economic pyramid would teeter precariously—in double jeopardy of job losses and economic downturn—poised to collapse like a house of cards on a late spring evening in Tornado Alley. So, I guess, yeah, come to think of it . . . You’re Probably Right.