Struggling

My boss called me today and told me we have to cut three staff. THREE. We only have 18 staff to begin with. Three is A LOT. I wanted to hang up on him. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry and I had to fight really hard not to.

A few years ago, the Board of Directors considered closing this camp. The site itself was run down and in need of a lot of repairs, the organization was in a lot of debt, and it seemed like the end. But my boss was hired and he has spent the last 2 summers working hard to build this camp back up to what is has the potential to be. It still needs a lot of work, but that was part of what drew me to this job. The first camp I worked for, started as a field, with nothing and hardly any campers. 6 summers later, it was a glorious place with buildings and supplies and more campers than anyone ever imagined. And I got to be part of that growth and development and I had the opportunity to make a very real and measurable impact. I feel very proud of the role I played and the work I put into it. After I left the first camp, I went to a camp that was fully developed and there wasn't really anything left for me to do, other than show up and make sure things ran every day. I didn't feel challenged or excited or interested. Anyone off the street can show up everyday and maintain. So as I imagined moving on, I really wanted to find a camp like this one, that had potential and that I could throw all of my energy into building.

I have been with this camp since December, and only physically at camp for a week, but I LOVE this camp. I believe in this camp. It is the 61st year this camp will be running. There is history in each building and each square of earth. It is rustic and beautiful and absolutely magical here. Yes, someone needs to go through the entire place with a hammer and nails and cleaning products and, well, probably some major tools, but it is paradise. And I very firmly believe that this camp will succeed.

I have spent the past 4 months going out to schools and churches, recruiting kids to come to camp. I have spent more hours than I can count designing programming that I am confident will be the BEST this camp has ever seen. And I have worked hard to hire the BEST people I could find to be staff. This is not a nine to five job, where you punch in and work and then punch out and go home. This is a job that requires your heart and soul and energy and love. And it is a lifestyle, requiring me to spend four months away from my home and family and friends and normal life. I am FULLY committed to all of the above and I am bursting with passion for all things camp. So hearing that we didn't have enough campers to justify the amount of staff we hired felt like being punched.

I feel like I didn't do a good enough job recruiting (although, for the record, the MAJORITY of campers we have signed up are NEW, so I don't know where all of the returners are, but if they had signed up, we would be in a different position). I feel like I failed at something I so dearly wanted to succeed at. My heart is in pain and I am deeply sad.

And now I have to cut three people off of the staff. I don't even know any of them personally- I just know them from their interviews and emails and phone calls. But already, I am connected to them, dedicated to them and excited for their journey to begin. This isn't just a summer job, it is a life experience. And I was so eager for these people I chose to come here and have their soul touched by camp magic and have their lives changed. I already feel like they are part of my life and turning them away, this close to the beginning of the summer, makes me sick to my stomach. I've been trying really hard not to cry about it, to be a tough, business woman, who can hire and fire staff objectively, based on budget and business.

I am good at my job. I stick to policy and procedure and best practice. I make fair, objective decisions and try to be consistent. But I am emotionally invested. And so I'm struggling.