A New Chapter

Working in politics is hardly a profession people seek out to feel anonymous, but that’s because people don’t think about jobs like mine. I’m not the candidate, or one of their close aides. I’m not the spokesperson or the policy expert. I serve as the campaign communications person and speech writer, and I work behind-the-scenes from my home office.

I’m not someone who seeks the spotlight, and I wasn’t looking for a job when this part time position practically fell into my lap. I had experience volunteering in politics, but I was already retired, helping out at the local library and working on writing a novel. I didn’t need to do this, but I’m thankful I did.

There’s nothing I love more than hearing my words come out of my bosses mouth, following the way her voice interprets phrases and talking points I spent hours perfecting, rolling over in my mind until they were just right. She doesn’t see the way I pace my house, reading the words aloud to make sure each paragraph follows her natural speaking pattern, her rhythm and cadence.  But the words also need to reflect her values and her achievements and resonate with whatever audience she is addressing that day. 

Nobody realizes that, except for a few edits and ad libs, she is sharing my descriptions of her policy wins and her commitment to voters. I don’t want the credit for those words. She can have the praise and adulation. I’m happy just to share quietly in her successes, to appreciate them from the comfort of home.

One day last year, my boss called the entire staff into an in-person meeting. I loved going into the state capitol for these periodic staff meetings. It was fascinating hearing the legislative aides talk about what had happened during session that day, or what bills were on the verge of passing. It was fun to be part of the vibe and the buzz of the building – which was rich with the history of our state. 

“So, I have a big announcement,” State Rep. Winters told us. The entire staff went quiet, although we all sensed what she was about to announce. “I’m going to run for Congress, and this means a big push for all of us. I’m going to count on your full support over the coming months. And if I win, which I think I can, you’ll all have a job with me to DC.”

Everyone clapped and cheered, thinking of how moving from the State Capitol to Congress would be a boost for their careers. They immediately started talking over each other about what it would be like to work on federal legislation and maybe even meet the president.

“Of course, my legislative staff is not allowed to work on my campaign, so you will continue helping me pass as many bills as possible over the next eight months and bring in as much funding to our district as possible. Showing my commitment to my current job, and accomplishing as much as possible for my constituents, is critical right now.  But you, Katie,” she said to me, “I hope you will be instrumental to my campaign. We’ll talk about that at a separate meeting after work hours.”

We all knew that you couldn’t run a campaign on the hallowed grounds of the state house, so I just nodded, knowing we would set up a private meeting when we were not in a public government building. I should have been grateful that she wanted me to be central to this high stakes campaign. I’d been part of her last campaign, but she ran unopposed, so there wasn’t much we had to do. We reminded constituents of all she had done during her term, hosted a few small campaign events and asked for their vote, but it was relatively low key.  This was going to be a high profile and competitive race, and it would require me to go beyond my comfort zone, which was already stretched to the limit.

When a friend recommended me for this position, a big part of me was hesitant to take the leap, to start over when I had already turned away from my career and was thinking past that stage of my life. But I knew in my heart I couldn’t say no. It was a big learning curve from my past work as a marketing manager at a small company, but I enjoyed producing her constituent newsletter, working on her other written communications and - most of all – helping her prepare for public appearances. The job was different every day, and I was always challenged. I was learning and growing in ways I didn’t think was possible at my age.

Although I was not part of her regular office staff, she kept me in the loop of everything going on in her office. She said she wanted me to have as much information as possible so that I could best depict her and all she was doing. Beyond legislative work, she connected with civic and political leaders and organizations around the state and the country. She had meetings and coffees and dinners just about every day and was always receiving awards and honors, some of which I helped her prepare for. It was no surprise that she was taking this leap in her career.

I tried to put the campaign in the back of my mind as I worked on remarks she would make before a luncheon the following week. Next I would gear up to create her monthly newsletter, which took an entire week with writing, editing and design. I would draft a lead article that summarized all she had accomplished during the month, and then we would detail each major event or meeting or policy win, with selfies and group photos from all her public appearance. With all she did, and it was not hard to showcase her accomplishments to the thousands of people who subscribed to our newsletter and social media pages.

The phone call came a few days later, as I knew it would. “Hi Katie, how’s everything going?” she said, always taking a minute to check in before launching into what she needed. 

“Good, I’m finishing up your prepared remarks for next week and then I’ll begin work on the newsletter.”

“That’s great, thank you. Do you have a few minutes to talk about the campaign. I’m driving now and I’ll be at the state house all day. I was hoping we could talk before I got to there.” 

Again, she was always considerate of my time, something I greatly appreciated. “Yes, sure, I can talk now.”

 “I’m hoping to rely on you a lot during this campaign, to not only write campaign speeches and talking points, but to work on endorsement applications, help me prepare for fundraisers and communicate with volunteers. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good, but I assume you’ll be hiring a campaign manager.”

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t expect you to run things, although as it gets closer to the election, you’ll be working closely with whoever I hire for that position.”

I felt tense at the idea of this shifting role, but also excited. This was a great opportunity for me, just as this job had been in the first place. I needed to be open to all it entailed. “As long as we have someone to oversee everything, I’m happy to do whatever you need. But this is Congress, and you’ve worked your whole career for this. That’s kind of daunting.”

“I feel that way too,” she laughed, sounding so carefree considering she was the one taking this leap. “This is new for all of us, but if you just keep doing what you’re doing, and work with the campaign manager, we’ll figure this out together.”

“I really think you can win this race. You work harder than anyone I know.” The words came out, and I meant them, but I also felt the anxiety rising in my chest as I anticipated what the next months would look like. To think I had been ready to slow down, and here I was about to gear up for one of my biggest challenges.

“ To be honest, I feel like I have a good shot, but I’m going to work hard every day for this.”

“I have no doubt,” I said.

***

Over the next few months, I worked closely with the campaign manager she hired, who knew exactly what we needed to do to win. I helped with different types of presentations, communicated with volunteers, filled out detailed endorsement questionnaires, accompanied my boss to some of her campaign events and was drawn into the momentum of the campaign.

So many people loved her and supported her that it felt like we were on a trajectory.  All we had to do was keep moving forward, one voter and one issue at a time. She never took her foot off the gas from the day she announced her candidacy until the final hour of voting.

On election night, as we all gathered to celebrate her victory, she pulled me aside. “Thanks for the victory speech.” 

I laughed. “I know we worked on your concession speech as well, but that’s one piece of writing I’m happy to throw in the trash, no matter how hard we worked on it.”

She laughed, gleeful from an evening that must have felt surreal to her. “Absolutely, I’m happy to have paid you to write it and throw it in the trash.”

“Yes -- that too,” I said, looking at the crowd of supporters, framed by dozens of balloons and signs, still trying to process what we had achieved.

“You know there’s always a place for you in my new office. And you don’t have to come to DC like the others, you can continue to work part time from home. The job might be a bit different, but probably not as different as you think.”

I looked at her and nodded. “That’s probably true.”

“But I’m guessing you’re not going to come with me,” she said. “I would love you to, but I know you have other things you want to focus on, and you can walk away feeling amazingly accomplished after all we’ve been through these past few years.”

“I hate to miss watching you take on this new role. Working with you was an unexpected opportunity, and being part of this campaign has been amazing...”

“But…” she said, waiting patiently for me, despite the fact that there were hundreds of people waiting to congratulate her, to talk to her about more important things than this.

“But I think I’m ready to focus on other things, like trying to write my novel. I feel like my boost in confidence from these past few years might be just what I need to go back to my writing. Also, I’d like to do more travelling with my husband. He’s finally ready to slow down, something I’ve waited years for. It’s a good time for me to do the same.”

“I understand,” she said, biting her lip. “Well, I know you’ll be with me until the end of the year, but I want to take this opportunity to say thank you. I’ll be lucky if I find someone like you to work with in my new position. I’ll have to start looking soon. January is not that far away.”

“No, it’s not, but I don’t think you’ll have a problem. And I want to thank you too, for giving me this chance to reinvent myself. You pushed me to be smarter and more competent – to be relevant - at an age when I wasn’t sure that could happen.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “Don’t make me cry, I spent too long on my make up, and I still need to pose for photos in the paper.” She laughed. “Just know that you’re very welcome. Now go have a drink and enjoy the party.”

“I will,” I said holding back my own tears. 

“We’ll all take tomorrow off, but I’ll expect you at the team meeting on Thursday morning. We have a busy few months ahead.”

“We always do,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

She looked like she was about to speak, but there was nothing left to say. She hugged me before she went off to smile for the cameras and her supporters.  I turned toward the bar, ready to enjoy a well-earned glass of champagne. I would drink to her success and mine – and to the joys and challenges we would each face as we started a new chapter of our lives.