When I first walked through the doors of Samaritans Spain’s charity shop, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Six weeks may not sound like much time, but I had big plans: raise €5,000 for their mental health services, grow their online presence by 500 followers, and host a community event that would bring at least 100 people together. On paper, it looked straightforward. In reality, it became one of the most challenging and rewarding leadership experiences I’ve had.

My role was a mix of everything – working in the shop day-to-day, rethinking their social media strategy, and planning a fundraising event from scratch. But very quickly, I realized that ticking boxes wasn’t going to make the real difference. This wasn’t just about numbers instead it was about people, relationships, and trust.

 Finding My Place

Most of the volunteers were over 50 and had been with the charity for years. They knew the shop inside out, the regulars by name, and the community better than I did. I was new, young, and only there temporarily and that came with its own invisible barrier. Why would they take my ideas seriously?

At first, I felt like an outsider bringing change to a well-established rhythm. But instead of pushing through with my plans, I stepped back. I started listening, asking for their opinions on the shop layout, the event plans, and even what content they felt would resonate online. Slowly, that barrier started to lower. The conversations shifted from polite nods to genuine collaboration, and by the time the event rolled around, I wasn’t the “new one” anymore. I was part of the team.

 A Setback That Became a Turning Point

The fundraising event was the centrepiece of my project. I’d set a bold target and poured weeks of planning into it. But a few weeks before, the promotion wasn’t gaining the traction we needed. Ticket sales were slow, and it felt like the momentum just wasn’t there.

Rather than panic, we reached out to Little Pod, a local dog rescue charity, and asked if they’d like to join forces. They shared our event with their supporters, and suddenly we had a whole new group of people interested. On the day, the event wasn’t just busy – it was buzzing. Over 100 attendees turned up, and we raised over €6,000, surpassing the goal I set at the start.

Small Moments of Courage

One of the moments that really stayed with me didn’t happen at the event, but in the shop. I noticed a few high-value items being put aside before they even hit the shop floor. It didn’t sit right with me, as it felt like the donations were not being handled ethicallyy.

It wasn’t an easy thing to bring up as someone new, but I decided to have an honest conversation with the Vice President. It turned out those items were being reserved for an upcoming auction to raise even more money. So, it wasn’t a problem after all, but that moment taught me something about ethical leadership. It’s about asking questions early, even if it feels uncomfortable, and doing so in a way that invites explanation rather than accusation.

 The Impact That Lasts

It was clear that our efforts had paid off: the shop saw more visitors, the fundraising event went beyond our target, and the Facebook page steadily grew. Before I left, I trained a volunteer to keep the page updated so that the momentum wouldn’t fade away.

But for me, the greater success was less visible. It was the relationships I built with the volunteers. By the end of my LiA, I felt fully accepted as part of the team, with my ideas being listened to, valued, and even enthusiastically embraced.

 What I Took Away

This project taught me that leadership isn’t about coming in with a plan and expecting everyone to follow it. It’s about building something together, listening more than talking, adapting when things don’t go as planned, and leaving a team stronger than you found it.

The Laidlaw programme gave me the confidence to lead this way to have the challenging conversations and acting ethically and enthusiastically.

As I move forward, I’ll carry these lessons with me, that the best leadership doesn’t always shout the loudest, but often listens the most.