Joan Garry's Guide to Nonprofit Leadership. Garry Joan

but special thanks to “heart monitor Julie” and the five-star staff and board who partnered with me to build an organization to last. I hope you are lucky enough to find someone like Karen Magee to step into a board leadership role. I can talk about the power of that partnership because I speak from experience with Karen.

      This book presents my chance to reach more people with guidance and direction. My deepest thanks to Scott Paley of Abstract Edge for believing that I had something to say and for working tirelessly to ensure that my message reaches far and wide. Without a blog and a podcast (both Scott's idea), there would be no book.

      Seth Rosen, a coaching client from years ago and now the senior member of my team, was the first person to utter the words “So, when are you gonna write a book?” Thank you, Seth, for planting the seed and recognizing that leaders need authentic, compassionate, and practical advice with a dose of good humor added for good measure. As my right hand, Debbie McNally is great with clients, a first-rate writer and editor and often makes that one comment in a meeting that brings the conversation into especially clear focus.

      Special thanks to my best friend since age 14, Kim Freedman. Through this process, as she has through life, Kim has been a cheerleader, a fierce advocate for my brand, and a first-rate thought partner from Day One to put my passion into print.

      Thank you so much to Arielle Eckstut, my “book doctor,” and Jim Levine, my agent at Levine Greenberg Rostan Literary Agency. Jim was a nonprofit leader in a former life and I could not have asked for a better advocate who really understands that nonprofits are messy. And of course I am so grateful to my friends and colleagues at John Wiley & Sons for believing in me (and for agreeing to put an image of a garbage can on the cover of one of their books).

      Lastly, we are who we are because of the families we create. I never thought I'd be so lucky to have one and try never to take it for granted. I keep a Chinese fortune cookie note in my desk drawer. It reads simply: You Have A Colorful Family. Amen. Thanks to my three kids, Scout, Ben, and Kit, for letting me catch you, raise you, annoy you, amuse you, and love you with all my heart.

      And, of course, to my legal wife of 3 years and spouse for 35, Eileen Opatut. In 1996, she casually suggested I leave the for-profit sector and apply for a nonprofit executive director job. We had three kids under seven and had just bought a big house: perfect time for a new low-paying job. She saw, as she always does, what I often miss completely – I was a leader and an advocate ready for a cause.

      And so began a new chapter in my life. A life that turned from black and white to color the day we met. Like Dorothy's arrival to Oz. Complete with three munchkins.

      INTRODUCTION

      I could have killed my development director.

      And I don't mean it the way you think.

      Julie arrived at a quarterly board meeting. She didn't look quite right. It was hard not to notice that there was something protruding from her blouse.

      A heart monitor.

      She had flown from Los Angeles to Chicago and I had flown in from New York. We had not seen each other in a few weeks.

      Maybe she mentioned something about a doctor's appointment, but come on. I was leading a nonprofit trying to save a portion of the world. Who has time for the health and well-being of staff?

      Clearly not me.

      I'm sure you're wondering. Julie is fine. Today, she is a clinical psychologist who no doubt helps clients contend with Type A, oblivious bosses who drive their employees to heart problems.

      Oh, also, in case you are wondering, the board meeting was a big hit. Julie and I were impressive and on our game – as we usually were. I did get a few comments at the breaks, like “Hey, how's Julie?” or “Julie looks like the job is taking a toll on her.” “No worries,” I said. And went on to get an A+ on our board meeting presentation.

      But wow. Who was I? Why did I not tell Julie to turn on her heels and take the next flight home to Los Angeles?

      I am not insane. I swear. I would never intentionally try to put Julie (or anyone else for that matter) in harm's way.

      But nonprofits can cause a person to transform into someone they don't recognize.

      Why?

      Because nonprofits are messy.

      It's inherent in the formula of the unique beast we call a 501(c)(3).

      A. A poorly paid and overworked group (staff) that…

      B. Relies on the efforts of people who get paid nothing (volunteers) and are overseen by…

      C. Another group of volunteers who get paid nothing and are supposed to give and get lots of money (board)

      All of this is in the service of something that every single one of them cares passionately about. Wow. Now that is a recipe for messy. And that organization you care so deeply about can get messier still if not led and managed well.

      I learned the messy lesson the hard way.

      What did I know? Fifteen years in corporate America and then poof! I'm running a nonprofit (more on the “poof” part in a few).

      I felt ever so well equipped with my financial skills, my management skills, and my understanding of how to manage a budget and to deliver results.

      I had never met “messy” like this until the day I sat down at my desk at GLAAD (formerly, the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation and now just the acronym), one of the largest gay rights nonprofit organizations. Or so I thought.

      It actually was large by reputation but “large” was not the first word that came to mind when I saw that we had only $360 in the bank. Large was not at all the word that came to mind.

      It was really bad. And I'll admit it here – I felt like a bit of a fraud, soon to be unmasked as having neither the grit nor the skills to dig us out.

      There was one very bad day the first week on the job. I remember it well.

      I was at my computer, writing a solicitation letter to a lapsed donor – trying everything to drive cash in the door. I was pleased with the letter. I sent it to print on the serviceable printer, reviewed it, and found a typo.

      And with that I burst into tears. It may have been my predicament but I think it was singularly focused. I knew we could not afford to reorder another letterhead.

      Then there was this other day.

      I was in Los Angeles meeting with donors (and praying they would pick up the tab) when my phone rang. It was my deputy director in New York. He calmly said that it might be time to look for office space he knew we couldn't afford.

      There was an inch of snow on his desk when he arrived for work.

      Very, very messy.

      I'm not sure I knew what to expect when I left corporate America for this job. I'm not sure I did a lot of thinking. My move from the corporate world to the nonprofit world was more of a “heart” move than a “head” move.

      I was not unhappy in the corporate world. Hardly. I had hit the corporate jackpot. In my first job out of college, I landed on the management team of MTV.

      Yes, working at MTV in the early 1980s was just as cool as you can imagine. I also learned a ton. I learned about the pace, intensity, and thrill of being a part of a start-up (more on that later). I learned how to innovate when I wrote the business plan for the MTV Video Music Awards. And my Harvard MBA boss bought me an HP12c calculator (the calculator that allows people to assume you have an MBA) and taught me about budgets and balance sheets.

      From