Hopkins Depot Employee Sacrifices for Teens

Ted Duepner loves his job.

The 30-year-old’s formal title is project coordinator, but that doesn’t really tell you anything about the hours and hours he spends helping teens realize their vision for the city-owned coffee shop.

Last month Duepner stepped before the volunteer teen board that runs The Depot and asked them to cut his hours by a quarter. Duepner knew the organization had been struggling financially since the economic downturn hit and corporate grants dropped off. He also knew that he could do something. So he talked it over with his wife—whom he married in May—and volunteered for a pay cut the city never requested.

His action saved Hopkins $1,300 in salary and benefits.

“I’ve been working here a long time. This place has given me a lot. I didn’t want to put them in a situation where, ‘Times are tough. I’m out of here,’” Duepner said.

The past year has been a hostile environment for government workers. Citizens upset over the unemployment and taxes accused them of bilking taxpayers— culminating most visibly in Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker’s battle with the unions. The workers retaliated with massive protests in Madison as controversy swelled throughout the country.

Yet even as these toxic currents brewed, public workers like Duepner quietly plugged away at jobs they genuinely love—sometimes in the face of sacrifice.

Not that his love of the job was any surprise to those who know him. Duepner, a University of Minnesota Duluth sociology major, began his career after college working with elementary school students.

But he’d always wanted to work with teens. In 2005, he heard about The Depot job and started in the position he has now.

“Just by description alone, it still is my dream job,” he said.

In many jobs, an employee can shape a job to his or her vision. Duepner’s job centers on helping teens make The Depot in to the place they want it to be. A unique volunteer board coordinates much of the programming. The board is made up of as many as 15 ninth through 12th grade students and up to five adults.

Duepner has developed an easy rapport with the students—a cross between a mentor, a teacher and a sympathetic ear. He gets 30 or so e-mails a day from teens about Depot activities and corresponds with them even more via Facebook, their native environment.

“Ted just vibrates this good attitude,” said Alex Aronovich, chairman of the board and a student. “Ted is always picking up the slack of the board. A selfless act from him is no surprise. The Depot without Ted is hard to imagine.”

Together, Duepner and the board have “definitely fallen into a good groove,” the project coordinator said. The Depot’s non-grant revenue increased from $4,000 annually to $10,000 over the past couple years.

'Me working 30 hours with benefits? A lot of people would happily take that right now.'

But even with the hard work and extra money, Duepner could see the financial road ahead. First, he started to hear of hardships from friends who worked for other nonprofits. Then companies started redirecting formerly reliable grants to food shelves and other hard-hit services they deemed more critical.

“We still think we have an important, quality program, but it’s hard to argue with that mentality when there’s not a lot of money to go around,” he said.

The Depot couldn’t pare back lower-paid employees who ran the soundboards and other equipment. Asking the grant writer to stop applying for more money would only make the situation worse. For Duepner, it was obvious he was the one who had to take the hit.

“I think the entire board was broken up about it,” Aronovich said. “Ted’s the kind of guy who would do something like that.”

In reality, Duepner continued working 40 hours a week; he just wasn’t getting paid for those extra hours. While The Depot no longer took on extra activities, its calendar continued uninterrupted.

This story has a happy ending. During the budgeting process, Depot board members and staff told council members about the organization’s hardships. Duepner kept quiet about his own situation until others prompted him. Council soon —with the possibility of more to come from increased recreation fees.

Duepner is now getting paid for the full 40 hours. Council members, The Depot board and others have praised him for his decision to voluntarily take a cut. But Duepner brushes such praise aside.

“Me working 30 hours with benefits? A lot of people would happily take that right now,” he said.