The Silent Backbone & Driving Force Behind the Mission
It’s 5:30 a.m. The sky is dark, and the streets are still quiet. While most of our community is just starting to stir, Brandon McQuirter is already in high gear—loading pallets onto his truck, running through a checklist of duties, preparing for another day of pickups and drop-offs. On paper, Brandon’s day is routine: site A, load and unload; site B, load and unload; site C, pick up. Day after day, week after week, the routine repeats. But nothing about Brandon’s role as a food bank driver is truly routine. Brandon’s daily structure sets a foundation of reliability and consistency that makes everything we do possible—it’s the backbone of the organization, driving our mission.
Brandon likes to get an early start to ensure deliveries arrive on time. “If the allotted schedule for delivery is 7 a.m., I want to be there for 6:30,” he says, tapping his watch. “Ninety-five percent of the people we deliver to are volunteers. They’re already giving their time, so I want to do my part to make sure the people that are not getting paid to do this receive all the goods they need, at the time they are supposed to.”
This mindset isn’t new to Brandon—it’s ingrained. He’s been driving trucks for 20 years. From hauling hazardous materials to driving dump trucks and everything in between, Brandon’s experience has shaped a deep understanding of what it means to be consistent, timely and dependable. “As long as I’m on top of what I need to be, then I’m doing my part to feed people,” he says.
“We show up, do our job, and we’re in and out before most people even notice,” he adds. “I like to say we’re like ninjas of the organization,” he says lightheartedly, with a smile.
That’s the easy part—the portion of his job that you can see, the things that make it on paper. But the role of a food bank driver goes far beyond just following the schedule, route and rules of the road. Brandon will tell you, drivers are the eyes and ears of the organization, sometimes they are even therapists, too.
As the boots-on-the-ground effort and frontlines of the organization, Brandon has a point of view that is unique. He sees realities that most others don’t—and often must manage the impact of people’s emotions tied to decisions and changes far beyond his control. He, like many drivers, often stands in the gap—taking on frustration when food runs short, when expectations shift, or when answers aren’t easy to give. Other times, he carries heartbreak and helplessness—because in many cases, he’s one of the few faces of the food bank that people will ever see.
“There’s a lot of stuff that people don’t see,” he says. “I see the people that are in need. I see their eyes light up when they see the food truck pull in. I see, ‘I’m gonna be able to eat tonight,’ on their faces. Some of these people haven’t eaten in days. You can tell,” Brandon says empathetically. “But whoever they are, whatever they’re going through—that’s not for me to judge. Everyone deserves to eat.”
Drivers like Brandon are often the ones who hear it all, the complaints, the panic, the pain. These moments aren’t rare. They’re constant. An unwritten part of the job description that lands heavily on the people behind the wheel.
Even still, Brandon keeps showing up. “The more pressure, the more comfortable I am,” he says. “I don’t really see the pressure. I just know people need to eat, so I do what I can to help.”
He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I love the mission. I do. But at the end of the day, I do this to take care of my home. That’s where I’d rather be. So, I’m going to do my job to the best of my ability,” Brandon says with a sense of renewed energy. “I’m going to make sure I give the same quality at work, that I give at home.”
As challenging as this job can be some days, it has managed to restore Brandon’s faith in humanity. The work continues to show him the best in people—neighbors helping neighbors, volunteers showing up early, and agencies doing more than required to help their community. It’s these moments that keep him pressing on and quietly reinforce his belief that good still exists.
Brandon has witnessed acts of kindness that go far beyond expectation—like families opening their homes or stepping in when someone has nowhere else to turn. These moments happen because of the connections built through the food bank. To him, they aren’t exceptions, they’re reminders of what the mission is truly about.
“It doesn’t matter what you look like, where you’re from, what you believe… none of that. It’s about being good, conscientious humans and helping people when they’re in need,” he says. “If someone’s hungry, they should be able to eat.”
From his seat behind the wheel, Brandon sees the details that others miss—faces, stories, and quiet moments that don’t make it into spreadsheets. He believes, “if people could spend a day riding with a driver, they would never lose sight of why we do this.”
He sees the tears when food runs short, the frustration when needs go unmet, and the quiet judgement people feel just for asking for help—without anyone ever knowing their story. He sees the relentless effort of agencies and volunteers. He sees the good, the bad, and everything in between. And through it all, he keeps showing up, doing his part to help drive the mission forward.
In true ninja fashion, as Brandon describes, their work is often unseen, but their impact is undeniable. They carry more than just food; they carry forward the stories and hopes of our community, and the weight of showing up when it matters most.
This steady driving force behind the mission is what keeps everything moving. Literally.
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