Bob Wertz

Almost 20 years ago, I was in San Francisco for my first AIGA Leadership Retreat. AIGA is a national organization for design¹ and I was a first-time president for the South Carolina chapter. I’d just finished attending a session on leadership and one of my new friends who’d been a president before pulled me aside and gave me some advice: “This is supposed to be fun. If it stops being fun, ask for help. You are giving up a bunch of your free time and if you aren’t having fun, it’s not worth it.”

I’ve been thinking about that advice a lot lately and I’ve come to a realization. Our volunteer “opportunities” have become unpaid part-time jobs. (Maybe they always were…) We are saddled with job descriptions and expectations. We dedicate our time and energy to a cause because we believe in it, but we manage volunteer organizations following the only model we have: business.

I see it in churches, who are looking for people to fill roles and run programs to keep the organization functioning.

I see it in our professional organizations, like AIGA, where we expect a level of excellence and professionalism on par with what we would expect from our corporate colleagues.

I see it in academia, where professors do a massive amount of additional service work in reviewing journal submissions and organizing conferences.

I see it in recreational youth sports, where people dedicate nights and weekends to coaching kids year-after-year.

I see it in our organizational boards that are increasingly trying to recruit people with particular backgrounds and skill sets to provide professional guidance.

This problem is compounded by how we talk about these volunteer positions:

• You are giving back, not using your free time.

• You are offering your skills and abilities, not providing free labor that other people would pay you for.

• You are providing service to the community, not working for free.

We talk about this volunteer jobs more like a calling, not a job. And that makes it so much harder to separate from a position that is overwhelming.

The result of this structure is almost always burnout. Frustration. We often become stuck in our volunteer positions, unable to find someone to take over the incredibly complex structure or programming we have built or maintained. Unsurprisingly, most people — even if they care about deeply about an organization or cause — are unwilling to step up and commit massive time and energy to a cause when they are already juggling their own jobs and family commitments. The volunteer opportunity that you were excited about is now weighing you down and causing stress and anxiety. It’s no longer fun.

This situation isn’t good for the organizations either. After someone manages to escape from a volunteer position, how often does that person significantly decrease their involvement? I can’t tell you how many people I know who disappear after a long stint on a church council. Or how many former AIGA presidents I know who now have nothing to do with AIGA only a couple of years after their term is over. How many board members step away completely after their service is complete?

The mission of the organization then shifts from serving the community to finding the volunteers to sustain the organization.

We need to rethink volunteer leadership.

The realignment starts at the top. If the leadership of an organization is overworked and burned out, the other volunteers will assume that’s normal. Some will try to emulate the behavior. Others will leave knowing they can’t commit that much. Our presidents, executive directors and other leadership need to model an appropriate work/life/volunteer balance. Working around the clock isn’t always the long-term, sustainable answer.

We need to spend less time crafting our job descriptions and more time building relationships. We’re following the model we know, based on how our business organizations are structured, but I’m not sure that model works in today’s volunteer organization. While we need to make sure expectations are clear, we also need to worry less about the business-like hierarchy and spend more energy on engaging our community. Focus on doing good work, aligned with the mission of the organization.

We need to be realistic about what we are asking people to do. Recruit more people to do smaller jobs instead of asking one person to commit a massive amount of time. Maybe in the past, you recruited one or two people to run an event. Maybe you should instead recruit 5-10 to cover the same amount of work. And if we can’t find the needed volunteers, it is time to scale back the project or event to be more reasonable.

We need to be thankful for the contributions of others, no matter how small. Too often, we thank volunteers by presenting them with opportunities to embrace an ever-increasing volunteer workload. We need to actively discourage overcommitment… and never ask for more than anyone should rationally be able to give.

We need to be thoughtful to fellow volunteers. It’s easy to get frustrated when people drop the ball. We need to check in on each other, be supportive and remember that we are all doing this for free, in our spare time, because we support the same cause and the same mission. We need to be understanding, not judgmental. We need to offer support, not criticism.

Understand the difference between governance and micromanagement. Yes, we need boards to make sure that the money is being handled properly and the mission is well-defined. But the board shouldn’t micromanage everything. We need to let people do the tasks we ask them to do.

Be flexible. Life can change in the blink of an eye. Be flexible with expectations. Be understanding when things don’t turn out the way you wanted. And realize that every volunteer is balancing life and work and family.

And finally, we need to remember to have fun. These organizations and boards that we support, love and commit our time to… they should be enjoyable. And if they aren’t, it’s time to fix them.

Bob Wertz is a creative director, type designer, Ph.D. student and researcher living in Columbia, South Carolina. Bob is currently taking a break from board service and volunteer opportunities, after getting burned out.

Electric truck and SUV manufacturer Rivian announced their new R2 SUV today, but surprised everyone with a smaller R3 version as well. I love smaller cars and I’ve been waiting for new smaller EVs to hit the market, hopefully at a lower price point. The R3 looks adorable and it reminds me of a VW Rabbit, which I used to drive.¹ But Rivian didn’t publish any specs so it’s hard to gauge how big R3 is.

Thankfully, they provided high res imagery and it’s easy to see the tire details — Pirelli Scorpion MS 235/55 R20. So based on a 20-inch rim size, and with a nice profile shot,² it’s possible to estimate the size with a little bit of simple math.

These numbers are rough, obviously. But here’s what I got:

Rivian 3
Length: 149 in.
Height: 55 in.
Wheelbase: 102 in.

That length looks a little short, but as you can tell from the picture, there is very little overhang in front or behind the wheels. For a point of reference, I compared those numbers with the specs of another EV model that I like a lot:

2024 Hyundai IONIQ 5
Length: 182.5 in.
Height: 63 in.
Wheelbase: 118.1 in

The Rivian R3 looks to be a good bit smaller than the IONIQ 5 in all dimensions. In fact, the R3 looks closest to the size of a four-door gas-powered Mini Cooper:

2024 Mini Cooper Four-Door
Length: 158.5 in.
Height: 56.1 in.
Wheelbase: 101.1 in

Of course, there are lots of caveats to this comparison. My numbers are rough, the car is a prototype, and things can change as the car moves to production. Who knows when it will be available to purchase, but I’m excited about the Rivian R3. I’m not in the market right now, but my next car purchase will be an EV. That size is actually perfect for what I want – a small EV to commute back and forth to work. Now we’ll see where the price falls.³

Bob Wertz is a creative director, type designer, Ph.D. student and researcher living in Columbia, South Carolina. And Bob likes small cars.

I used to dread calling my grandmother on her birthday. My mom died on that day and so every time I’d call, she’d start with “Well, you know, I wish Nancy was still here.” And that always bothered me and usually made me tear up, so I would wait as long as I could to call. I was pretty sure that I was the last grandkid to call each year.

Twelve years ago today, I called GiGi¹ to wish her happy 89th birthday. She answered the phone upbeat and excited, telling me about all the people who had called her earlier in the day (including my siblings and all of my cousins, letting me know that I was, in fact, the last grandchild to call.) But she closed with a surprising statement, subtly mentioning that she “helped someone old today.” I was intrigued and asked for details.

GiGi was at the gas station filling up when she noticed an “old” man struggling to take the money up to the cashier. She took the money up for him and they struck up a conversation. The man was recovering from a double knee replacement. He was upset with his doctor that they’d done both knees at the same time, and told him that “next time, we’re doing them one at a time.” The doctor told him “Mr. Jones. You are 99 years old. We aren’t doing another knee replacement.”

I tell that story often, but realized I’ve never written it down. I love how many lessons about attitudes, expectations and perspective are packed into one story. GiGi passed away a few years ago, living to the age of 98. Today would have been her 101st birthday. There are many stories to tell, but this is the story I tell about her most often and wanted to share it on her birthday.

Bob Wertz is a creative director, type designer, Ph.D. student and researcher living in Columbia, South Carolina.

March 3, many years ago, my mom died unexpectedly. In perhaps one of the greatest understatements ever, I struggled with her loss. Some days, I still struggle with her loss.

I discovered that on March 3, every year, I was grumpy. Kinda pissed off. And in general, not a fun person to be around. So I declared the day “International Bob is Grumpy Day.” Gave it a silly name. Explain to people how I’m feeling. I told coworkers that it probably wasn’t the best day to ask me challenging questions. Or rely on me to be particularly tactful. In short, March 3 was the one day a year that it’s best to leave me alone. It worked. People left me alone, and I, predictably, was grumpy.

March 3 was also my grandmother’s birthday. I’d call her and she’d mention how much she missed mom. And usually, I’d tear up. Maybe the anticipation of the call was what made me grumpy. I don’t know. Over time, I became less grumpy on March 3. Still sad, but I was able to understand the grief a little better. Decades heal. In my most recent job, my coworkers understood, but also didn’t let me sit in my office alone.¹ They worked hard to keep my spirits up.

This year, I’ve decided that it’s time to retire International Bob is Grumpy Day. Instead of sulking, we are taking a day trip with the whole family — my oldest is home from college on Spring Break — and I’m going to enjoy the company of the people that I love. And take pictures. Because honestly, that’s the way mom would have wanted it.

Bob Wertz is a creative director, type designer, Ph.D. student and researcher living in Columbia, South Carolina.

Apple has canceled its decade-long program to build an electric car. And while I think it’s probably the right call to end the program, I do understand why Apple tried.

Ten years ago when Apple started the project, it was the perfect moment to rethink the automobile. With the change to battery powered electric powertrains, many of the traditional constraints of car design were no longer relevant. You no longer need a motor, or a gas tank. Cars are more reliant on their technology stack. There were very few competitors and they were almost all selling cars at the high end of the market. It seemed like a perfect time for Apple to step into revolutionizing the design of cars, questioning the established conventions of the past. Changing how cars were designed, manufactured and sold.

And yet, today, that’s not what happened. In general, electric cars today look like gas-powered cars, but without the tailpipes. There are reasons for this, I think — consumer buying habits, aerodynamics and federal safety laws — but the result is that this isn’t the revolution that it looked like it might be. Couple that with the fact that the no-steering-wheel, self-driving tech that Apple was rumored to be pursuing is decades away from being truly reliable.¹ Battery advances are slow. When they started, there were few competitors, but that’s changed and lots of established car makers are committing to electric cars, with the addition of new upstarts like China’s BYD.

I understand why Apple started their car program. But after a decade of being stuck in neutral, I also understand why they finally ended it.

Bob Wertz is a creative director, type designer, Ph.D. student and researcher living in Columbia, South Carolina.