By Byron L. McAllister

When the rides are free, who pays for the ride?

Probably you belong to several organizations; so do I. The National organizations, like Smithsonian, or the American Society for Adjusting to Stupidity (ASFATS) dun us for funds, ask us to write letters, or contribute in some way to our professional development, but don't want us interfering in their national activities. Local ones are different. They want us to become officers : Board members, secretaries, treasurers, presidents, vice presidents—lots of opportunities to serve!

There are a lot of us who joined when somebody else was doing the work and we felt good about accepting the results of that work. Not very many of us joined because we thought it'd be nice to become officers. And yet there always seems to come a time when a nominating committee contacts us to see if we'd be willing to serve. In my case—let's see: I'm just ending a term on the board of a historical society, I'm right in the middle of a term on the board of an organization of retirees, I'm just ending a term as vice president of another kind of retirees' organization, I'm involved as program planning help as well as being a board member of a group that tries to preserve—or at least appreciate—our many regional ghost towns, and I'm indirectly involved in a few others, for example one devoted to preserving native plants, because my wife is an officer in them. That wife thing, by the way, works both ways: when I'm an officer, she functions as unofficial “assistant officer,” just as I do when she's an officer.

The hell of it is, when they came to me and said, “This organization is worth preserving isn't it,” I didn't catch on at first, and used to say, “Oh, yes, it is. I enjoy its activities immensely.”

“Well, then” they said, “you don't want it to die out, do you? Somebody has to take responsibility for keeping it going, and we want you to be an officer. Something easy, like, say, membership chairman.”

I actually did accept membership chairmanship once. It was in a regional organization for writers. I'd just joined, and I'd heard that it was a good club. So, I set out to augment—or at least try to maintain—the membership. One lady I asked to renew told me she'd heard rumors that the organization was going to die out. Well, I simply pointed out to her that if all the members quit because the organization might die out, then the organization would surely die out. She renewed, but guess what: a few months later I was the only one to show up the club's regular board meeting. (I hope the treasurer did whatever the law requires with the club's funds!) And that goes to show: when people tell you the organization may die out if you don't become an officer, you can bet that things are pretty precarious. It may even die out if you accept.

I wonder if the point isn't that when things are so desperate they have to ask me to be an officer, then they are already hopeless. It means all the really lively pushers and shovers, the people who actually make things go, have become discouraged, and are not only not willing to be responsible any more, they aren't even willing to come to the meetings.

So, then, if I become an officer, do I have to become a pusher and shover? I hope not: pushiness is completely foreign to my character, and if there's such a thing as shoviness, I'm sure that it's just as far from what I can expect to accomplish as pushiness is. Years ago, when I looked into whether I could expect to become a salesperson—and found out the answer was no—I noticed that I lacked both those qualities. So, why do they keep asking—indeed demanding—that I become an officer? Surely because the organizations really are on the edge of collapse. Should I avoid joining them at all? Probably. But until the collapse actually happens, what if they're doing things that interest me? Am I stuck with being an officer in all such groups? Oh, dear, I hope not!

So maybe the solution is to join exactly one organization, become an officer, and try to keep it going at all costs? What if it's like the writers' organization I mentioned a paragraph ago? That is, what if it's doing good stuff, but all the pushers and shovers are too tired to keep it doing good stuff, and my little non-pushy and non-shovey contribution won't keep it from going to hell in a handbasket?

And what does all this have to do with mysteries, anyway?

Well, for mystery readers , possibly nothing, though you may want to consider it anyway. For mystery writers , all may depend on how pushy and shovey you need to be. Pushing and shoving isn't done at the rate of a few minutes a day: if you have to do pushing and shoving, it's going to cut deeply into the time you spend doing other things. Like writing mysteries (or playing Free Cell on your computer). Well, but maybe the organization can somehow contribute to your mystery writing? One has to decide, for each prospect: how likely is it to do so. Me for example. (What, again? Of course. Who else do I know about?) I do belong to a mystery writers' organization, but it's national in scope, and it only contacts me at dues paying time or, a year or so ago when some pushers and shovers were trying to make membership more “exclusive,” “professional” and “dignified” by creating rules that don't allow membership by applicants with only the sort of qualifications that enabled me to join. No burden there: if they don't think they should have admitted me in the first place, they darned sure aren't going to ask me to devote any officer time to them. Freedom from officer-ness: a wonderful side benefit of paying them my annual dues. Weak on “opportunity to advance,” but strong on “worth it.”

I've been thinking of forming a “Non-officer Club,” with membership restricted to people who join things just in order to participate, with no risk of ever having to take command. We could share lists of other organizations that are stable enough that they won't need to ask us to become officers. I already belong to several like that. They're all national, though—I'd need help from the other members to find any local ones. The problem is, the “Non-officers' Club” will need leadership. It'll never get off the ground if we don't come up with a full slate of officers. Would you like to volunteer? If you like the idea, for goodness' sake, don't let the club die out!