Tough volunteering jobs

Volunteer gig Animal shelter caregiver
Why it’s rough Laundry, lunch and litter duty for 250 free-range felines. Budget cuts at shelters such as cage-free Tree House Humane Society (1212 W Carmen Ave, 773-784-5488) have driven down staff numbers and made volunteers more essential. Caregivers keep 20 loads of laundry going for 12 hours every day, in addition to dishing up cat chow and scooping poop.
Why it’s worth it Even while juggling what he calls a “crapload” of laundry, “There’s a real emphasis on spending at least half your time socializing the cats,” says caregiver Don Hill, who arrives early for his 3–6pm shift every Friday for some extra kitty lovin’. “Some of the cats are very shy, and helping them become more adoptable is incredibly rewarding.”

Volunteer gig Domestic-violence hotline
Why it’s rough After completing 40 hours of legally required training, the average volunteer spends each four-hour shift taking heartbreaking calls while assessing need, sorting out shelter options and making legal referrals. Even more heartbreaking? Stats for domestic violence show that most victims return to their situation several times.
Why it’s worth it “There’s such a need for this type of work,” says Jenny Walsh, who manned hotlines for two north suburban organizations for four years before burning out. Despite the emotional toll, Walsh wishes more people would give it a try. “At the end of the calls, the women would say ‘thank you,’ and I felt like it gave them a little bit of hope that there was something better out there.” Chicago organizations with hotline services include Connections for Abused Women and their Children (773-489-9081) and Life Span (312-408-1210).

Volunteer gig Event bus marshal
Why it’s rough It’s 6am on a Saturday in January. You’re spending four hours outdoors in arctic temperatures directing 150 buses so the 3,000 volunteers at the annual Chicago Cares Celebration of Service can get to 50 service projects honoring the Martin Luther King Jr. in schools and agencies across the city. Your feet are numb, it’s beginning to sleet, and no one will notice your work unless you screw up.
Why it’s worth it Gary Kalas has been snowsuit-clad every January since 2002, and this year he’s recruited a posse of ten friends to freeze their asses off, too. “It’s one of the most miserable jobs out there that just has to get done,” he says. “So we do it.”