Sabbatical Experiment #1: Meals on Wheels Driver

A Lesson in Empathy

I left my 20-year airline career at the end of 2020 to take a year’s sabbatical. I would focus on learning and serving my community to discern a second career with greater social impact.

Taking queue from Herminia Ibarra’s excellent book Working Identity, I decided to implement a test-and-learn model. I would craft various experiments by volunteering, reading, and taking classes. Taking action, reflecting, and changing course when needed would give me an iterative approach.

I signed up for Meals on Wheels at the recommendation of a recently retired colleague. Helping seniors, the most vulnerable population during the pandemic, holds special importance for me. I grew up close to both of my grandmothers. One grandmother moved in with us when I was eight years old, and I helped care for her until her death in my early 20s. Four years later, my other grandmother moved in with my parents when she lost her New Orleans home in Hurricane Katrina. We had weekly Sunday family lunches, including cutthroat Scrabble games, until her death in 2016. I feel strong responsibility to honor our elders and help them retain as much independence and agency as possible.

I googled the local Meals on Wheels agency, which is Visiting Nurse Association (VNA) Texas Meals on Wheels. At the height of the pandemic, the training was all online. After completing the training and a simple background check online, I was ready to start delivering.

VNA Meals on Wheels provides nutritious, hot, home-delivered meals five days a week to 4,600 homebound seniors and disabled adults who due to illness, advanced age or disability are unable to obtain or prepare their own meals.

At least once a week, I picked up a route in the app, collected the hot and cold meals from the drop site’s coolers, and used the app to navigate and log my client deliveries. The app would give phone numbers and pertinent information for each client (knock loud, call first, slow to door, watch out for dog, gate codes, etc.).

My first day delivering went smoothly, although I had to wipe away tears at least once. My last delivery was to a woman living alone, probably in her 90s. I rang the doorbell several times, and it took a while for her to get to the door. I asked her how she was doing, and she said “I’m just having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.” She apologized that she hadn’t been able to get a haircut because it hurt too much to sit in the chair.

My second delivery day was a disaster. It was a Thursday, New Year’s Eve, and at the time VNA was only delivering twice a week to limit potential Covid exposure. The rain was coming down sideways, the kind that scoffs at my umbrella. The manager at the drop site was sitting in his car pointing us to the coolers. Usually they will be out directing volunteers, but I understood his desire to seek shelter, and I already knew the drill.

Well, I thought I did.

After my first few deliveries that morning, I was shivering as the freezing rain penetrated through every layer I was wearing. I noticed the app had a meal count and was referencing frozen meals. What??? Apparently there was another cooler of frozen meals intended for Friday and Monday, and I had totally missed it. Frozen meals were only delivered Thursdays, and I had previously delivered only on a Tuesday. I went back to the drop site to get the frozen meals, but there was no site manager or frozen meals in the cooler. I called the volunteer office, and couldn’t get through.

All twelve seniors on my route were going to be short two meals each during the holiday weekend. (Un)Happy New Year. I notified each client on my route, explained my mistake, apologized, and made sure they would be ok. VNA plans for missed deliveries and provides shelf stable meals for them to keep on hand. Still, I felt sick.

I vowed to triple check everything on the app before future deliveries. I had underestimated the importance of being fastidious and asking questions when starting something new. The importance heightens when serving others.

More than anything else, after delivering over 750 meals over the past two years, I learned empathy.

Empathy for the vulnerable

Many of the clients use wheelchairs or oxygen tanks, some showing visible signs of cancer treatment. I often see piles of clutter built up from years of limited mobility. Sometimes I call when there’s no answer at the door, and I find out the client has been hospitalized. Sometimes they disappear from the route. Once I was pleased to see that a client had simply moved and was on another route. Usually that’s not why. Witnessing the suffering of others has made me more comfortable turning towards instead of turning away.

This service helps seniors stay in their own homes and retain their independence. Even in the pandemic, I could connect through smiling eyes (wearing a mask) or a brief distanced chat. Sometimes I may be the only person a client sees that day.

Delivering has also opened my eyes to how much need exists in our communities. Just in my local area, Dallas County, the organization serves thousands of clients per day. We may have preconceived notions of who needs help. However, even seemingly affluent neighborhoods have routes with clients who have lived there for decades. One client I served is confined to her bed in the last standing small cottage in a neighborhood that’s been razed for fancy new townhomes. Her daily Meals on Wheels delivery is her sweet little dog’s opportunity for a mid-day potty break outside.

Everyone is worthy of dignity and human connection.

Empathy for delivery workers

Delivery workers, often invisible to those who benefit from their services, keep our society running. This became 10x more critical during the pandemic. It’s not easy to navigate unfamiliar neighborhoods and find apartments in a large complex, especially in sideways freezing rain. When the season turned to summer, I often got overheated, making multiple stops too close together for my car to really cool down.

Especially during a pandemic, finding available restrooms for pit stops is dicey. This is currently a huge wellbeing issue for delivery workers. It can be a choice between caffeination + hydration or finding a questionable restroom in an unfamiliar neighborhood.

We don’t know the challenges of someone else’s job until we try it.

How you can help

Many people don’t realize how easy it is to volunteer for Meals on Wheels. All you need is:

1. Wheels (transportation to deliver)

2. Smart phone (to navigate your route)

3. A long lunch break (~2 hours mid-day)

Delivering for Meals on Wheels reminds me of my own privilege and the fragility of human life.

Click here to find out more about the United States’ national Meals on Wheels organization and how you can contribute.