Writing in Real Simple magazine, author Karen Weese observes how it's easy to volunteer when the people we help are grateful. It's not so easy when recipients of our help don't say thanks. Weese then shares a story from when her church youth group volunteered to serve meals in an inner-city soup kitchen.

We washed dishes and doled out beans and mashed potatoes to a long line of homeless men. Most of them didn't make eye contact or express more than a mumbled thanks. Afterward, the pastor asked for our reflections. The room was silent; and then, finally, one of the girls said softly, "I didn't really like being here. I guess … " She paused, embarrassed. " … I wanted them to be more grateful." I cringed—because I'd been thinking the same thing.

But as an adult she started to think about how it might feel to be one of the men in that line. Weese writes: "What was it like to accept a plateful of charity from a bunch of suburban teenagers who were dabbling in do-gooding, then heading back to warm beds and well-stocked refrigerators? If I'd been in their shoes, would I really have been making small talk?"
Weese ended the article with her new expectation for her volunteer experiences:

I still catch myself wishing for magic moments of gratitude this time of year; I treasure volunteer experiences where I feel like I've made a difference. But overall I've moved the bar. Now I feel that not making someone feel worse on a particular day qualifies as a victory. And even if I occasionally forget, deep down I know the best gift I can give as a volunteer: generosity devoid of expectation.