PAST PRESIDENT’S REFLECTIONS. Lesson 1: If Nobody Applauded

Kwani We're Not Winning Any Awards?
 

Three hours into the District Legacy Awards dinner, our Rotary Club table had grown noticeably quiet. Club after club was being called to the stage to receive awards as we clapped, cheered, and genuinely celebrated them. Some clubs seemed to be called over and over again. Meanwhile, our table remained seated. At one point, one of my members leaned over and jokingly asked:
 

“Prezzo… kwani we’re not winning any awards?”
 

Everyone laughed, but it was the kind of laughter carrying tension underneath it.
 

A little later, another member quietly said:
 

“I’ve needed the bathroom for almost an hour, but I’m scared to leave in case our club is finally called.”
 

That one landed. Because most of us understood exactly what she meant.
 

Our club had worked hard that year. Members had sacrificed weekends, money, family time, and emotional energy- serving communities, building projects, telling our stories, fundraising, and carrying the invisible weight of service. Somewhere deep inside, many of us assumed that real impact would naturally lead to visible affirmation.
 

But volunteer leadership has a way of confronting your expectations. Sometimes you work incredibly hard and people celebrate it. Sometimes they barely notice. Sometimes a project exceeds every expectation and nobody fully understands what it took to pull it off. Sometimes the people you hoped to help do not respond the way you imagined. Sometimes you succeed, yet the moment still feels strangely quiet afterwards.
 

Later that evening, our club was recognized for meaningful contributions toward Rotary’s humanitarian work through The Rotary Foundation, and we celebrated loudly.
 

But the deeper lesson had already started much earlier sitting and waiting at that table. Because leadership eventually asks every volunteer the same question: If recognition disappeared, would you still serve?

Part of what makes volunteer leadership emotionally difficult is that most of us were shaped by systems built around reward.

Study hard, get the grade.

Win the race, receive the medal.
Perform well, get promoted.
Hit your targets, receive recognition.

So when we enter service, we carry that expectation with us; often without realizing it.

If I sacrifice, someone will notice.
If I give enough, someone will appreciate it.
 

But service does not always work that way. Many times your work will change lives and nobody sees the emotional labor behind it. Sometimes even the people you are helping may misunderstand your intentions or respond with ingratitude. And that is where your leadership begins testing something deeper than performance.

Real service begins where convenience ends. It is easy to serve people who appreciate you. It becomes harder - and more meaningful - when the people you are helping frustrate, overlook, or misunderstand you, and you still choose to show up. That's not weakness. That's the real work.

Volunteer leadership eventually tests your motives. There will be seasons when your work feels unseen and the effort feels thankless. If recognition is the only thing sustaining you, disappointment will eventually drain you dry

Most people spend their lives chasing success, titles, and comfort, only to discover that achievement alone does not fully satisfy the human heart. Service reminds us that we were created not only to succeed, but also to contribute.

What surprised me was how quietly ego can enter service- even among genuinely caring people.

“I’ll quit because they don’t appreciate me.”
“I wasn’t recognized.”
“I’ll serve once I’m given my due respect.”
“I’ll participate once things go my way.”
 

I noticed these thoughts in others. I noticed them in myself. Even people with sincere hearts still have to keep checking their motives. Service humbles you that way. It has a habit of revealing what you came for. I still have to keep checking their motives. Service humbles you that way.

Before the meetings, the projects, and the expectations, take time to answer one question honestly:
 

Why are you really here?
 

There will be days when leadership feels meaningful and rewarding. There will also be days when you feel tired, overlooked, and quietly wondering whether any of it matters.
 

When those days come -  and they will - your reason for serving will carry you further than your title ever could.
 

If your why is deep enough, you will keep showing up. Even when nobody applauds.