I had never seen a whole staff silenced and invalidated, this way, until now. I was shocked by my childhood hero, but I still believed she was fighting a good fight and God had sent me to The Hill to help her.

“Let’s grab a cup of coffee. I’ll show you where the cafeterias are,” Octavia said when we left The Senator’s office.

The halls were bustling with large groups of people, some wearing tee-shirts with slogans. Congressmen and women rushed through the corridors as their staffers scribbled notes, or read to them from documents, while keeping pace.

“Oh. Here we go. We can get a free cup of jo right here,” Octavia said, pulling me into a hearing room where a reception was being held.

“That’s another perk,” she said. “Some days you won’t have to spend a dime. Dip into a couple of receptions and a luncheon and you’ll be fed.”

“Not enough perks for you to stay,” I said.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I respect Madame Senator. She’s a bad-ass, and I like that. She’s time enough for these sons-of-bitches. But nobody’s going to talk to me like some shit,” she said. “I don’t talk to my son the way she talks to staff.”

“Guess I better keep my distance,” I said.

“You find what works for you,” she said.

“But, isn’t it kind of exciting working where you can actually make something happen?” I said. “Especially now that we’re about to elect our first Black president. Here we are working for one of our own who helped pave the way.”

1. There are always perks to be enjoyed. What are some of the extra joys and delights in your current job (including the job of working on your college degree or raising your family or caregiving for your parents?)
2. Why do you enjoy these perks? (For instance, I love free food because it reminds me that God gives us abundance in many ways.)
3. Describe some perks you would like to enjoy in the future.

Michelle introduced me and told everyone to tell something about themselves besides just their name. I couldn’t take my eyes off Billy, who was settled back into the couch with one foot crossed over his knee, pen in hand, yellow legal pad balanced on his knee. He was well-bred white, but rugged, some kind of city-cool. Brown, curly hair, yellow polo shirt, jeans and black loafers. He was wearing a suit jacket when I saw him before the meeting, but looked even more attractive without it.

“I’ve been with Madame Senator five years. I love helping the constituents who call in asking Madame Senator to show up at their event to attract the media will, or to write a letter for their event souvenir programs to lend legitimacy,” Sandra said. “I’m just here for the people,” she concluded. “That lady’s got no respect for me and if she comes at me one more…”

“Ok. I think R.C. gets it,” Michelle interrupted. When I met her a couple years ago through my little brother, I told her I was proud that she was rising through the ranks in the office of a woman I admired much. She had shrugged off the compliment, and now, watching how calm and confident she is, I’m even more proud of her. I noticed the trinkets on her desk as I walked past this morning – a ceramic plaque that reads: “When the prayers go up, the blessings come down,” a figurine of a church-dressed woman lifting her hands in praise, and a flowing plant.

“No. Let me tell this poor woman what she’s gotten herself into. She might as well know up front…” Sandra continued.

“We don’t want to chase her away. You know how hard it was to get somebody to take that job. Now, hush it up,” Michelle said, making others giggle.

“R.C. welcome. I’m Garrett. I worked as a construction site manager out in Arizona before I came here. My friend owned the company, needed a manager and told me to wing it. I did for a while, then hitch-hiked across country looking for a new adventure, wound up in the nation’s capital, needed a job, and ended up here,” a short, White guy with shiny black hair and an infectious smile said. His wrinkled button up blue shirt, faded, wrinkled black khakis, and scuffed brown shoes said he just didn’t give a damn. He rode to work on a bike this morning. Came in wearing tennis shoes, carrying a bag and a helmet. Hung his suit jacket on the coat rack.

“Garrett, you had done some impressive work with the ex-offender population and in the courts system back in Arizona. Don’t make it sound like you were some clown we just picked up,” Michelle said. “Tell her what your G.P.A. was all through college.”

Billy told how he worked as a bartender after college, decided to go to law school, and then landed a job working for a City Councilwoman in the District of Columbia. After his boss lost her re-election bid, he applied for the Legislative Director opening in Senator Jackson’s office, and he’s been here two years. He said he didn’t know anything about Jackson’s state, the tiny state of Vas Calucca, in the mid-west, when he started, but now he knows too much.

“Billy helped draft the legislation to build our new world-class shopping mall, the first mall ever funded by and benefiting private investors and taxpayers,” Michelle said. “Madame Senator hires only the best, R.C., and we’re happy you’ve joined the pack.”

“Glad to be here. Looks like exciting work,” I said. “I am a Vas C. native. I’ve admired Madame Senator since before she was elected to Congress. Of course I voted for her, too, to become the second African American woman in the Senate. Working with her will give me an opportunity to offer more support of her work…”

“Girl please. You’re not on an interview. You got the job,” Michelle interrupted. “Tell them about you!”

I laughed, glad she broke the ice.

“I like writing, love writing. Looking forward to helping Madame Senator get her message out. I worked for her before in her District office, as some of you know. But I here The Hill is a little different…”

“Understatement!” one of the guys yelled from the District Office.

I chuckled and continued. “I did some reporting and managed a small newspaper back home and one up here…”

“R.C. is also a playwright,” Michelle interrupted again. “She wrote that play Till We Meet Again, back home. We are happy to have her. Madam Senator’s quite impressed with her work, and I know her work ethic ‘cause I’ve seen her do her thing over the years.”

“A playwright? Oh, yippie. What we have here is a tragedy of Shakesperian proportions,” one of the guys said through the speakerphone. “Mid-west colony denied basic human rights, used as scientific testing site…”

“O.k. you’re about to get cut off,” Michelle said.

1. Think fast! In one word describe yourself.
2. In the next few days ask three to five of your friends to describe you in one word. Did one word come up more than once? Do you agree with your friends’ characterization of you?
3. Would you like to change the first word that comes to mind when describing you? Why/why not?

A few staffers walked in with piping hot cups of coffee this morning. I went to the water cooler and filled the bottle I’d brought in. There was a coffee pot caked with dust, a pile of dishes in the sink, a small refrigerator, and a bag of half eaten chips folded and tucked away in the office kitchen. By nine-fifteen the office was bright and noisy with phones ringing, keyboards clicking, TV’s blaring and the front door opening and slamming shut.

“You can bring your lunch, but you won’t want to use the microwave,” Nia said. “It’s nasty.”

“Come on pee-pole. You all know what time it is,” I heard yet another voice yell.

“Grab your note pad,” Octavia said.

I followed her into Madame Senator’s office for the staff meeting, where I was introduced to everyone. The chief of staff, Michelle, strutted in wearing a sundress and flip-flops! Her hair is died deep burgundy and twisted in neat braids wrapped in a bun at the back. Sandra, the scheduler/executive assistant, had on tan slacks and a cool tangerine summer top, and Sylvia, in charge of responding to letters Madame Senator gets from residents, was flaunting crazy nails, and eyelash extensions. Unabashedly ethnic! Ghetto-fabulous! I loved it! It was like the Hood on the Hill in our office. Only two out of the seventeen of us were White, and everybody was on top of their game.

1. How do you express/maintain your uniqueness?
2. Are you more of a comformist ( inclined to fit in and go along with the program) or a creationist (inclined to look for a new way of doing things?) Explain.
3. When/how did you realize you are more of a comformist or creationist?
4.  

We heard keys in the door, then the voice of a cheerful young woman.

“Good moooooorning!” she yelled.

“Hey!” Octavia hollered back.

“Helloooooo!” I yelled.

“Who’s that?”

“R.C. Paige. New girl,” I said.

She turned on the overhead TV in the office lobby, then come back to our area and turned on another overhead TV. News blasted from the lobby TV and muzak played from the TV on our side, which showed a list of the day’s hearings scheduled.

“You can always tune that out and pull up a TV on your screen,” Octavia said. “In fact, you’ll need to keep that window open to MSNBC so you don’t miss anything.”

“I’m a news junkie anyway,” I assured her.

“Take that up a notch and you’ll be fine,” she said. “Anytime you can get a jump on her, do. She’ll respect you for it.”

“What you mean?” I asked.

“Be proactive. That’s what she wants. I’ll give her credit, they’re never gonna catch her sleeping…”

We heard keys again, then the front door open, then we smelled coffee.

“Who dat?” the young woman hollered.

“King of the castle. Who you think?” came a male’s voice.

“Hey Billy. What up?” the young woman yelled. “Take the lock off,” she added.

“Hi. I’m Nia. Heard a lot about you,” the young woman said, dropping a stack of newspapers on my desk.

“Don’t tell me,” I smiled.

Octavia reached over me and closed the e-mail.

“I need to show you some other things,” she said.

Besides writing press releases to get coverage for upcoming bills and events, and besides calling reporters and pitching stories, I’ll need to plan for big projects, including newsletters, and a year-end report to media. She gave me a ten-page exit memo with a lot of the work outlined. I took a lot of notes, too. She showed me templates for press releases, and templates for statements and resolutions I’ll have to write, but the whole time she was explaining stuff, calls were coming in for interviews.

She showed me the list of media contacts and explained which reporters were friendliest to Madame Senator. She showed me where senatorial bills and correspondence are filed on our shared computer drives, and gave me e-mail addresses for leaders of the Democratic Press Secretaries group so I can keep up with the daily talking points they issue Congress members in the House and Senate. Anytime there’s a major issue in the news, in order for them to deliver a consistent message, the Majority Leader of the Senate’s office will send us all talking points, facts and statistics to use in our press releases.

“They have message meetings on Mondays and strategy sessions on Thursdays,” Octavia explained, “But you’ll hardly have time to attend them.”

When Madame Senator gives an interview, I will have to monitor the interview, whether it’s a live camera interview, or an off-the-record phone conversation with a reporter.

“Make sure she doesn’t get misquoted, whatever you do. Make sure the reporter gets it right the first time,” Octavia said.

1. Is your daily To-Do list crammed with more than ten things to do (cook the family breakfast, pack lunch, drop off the dry cleaning, work 8-10 hours at the office, take daughter to choir rehearsal, pick up son from basketball practice, serve dinner, check homework, one load of laundry, entertain/romance your spouse/lover OR go to school full-time, work two part-time jobs and an internship)?
2. How do you forgive yourself when you don’t complete every task with 100 percent perfection?
3. When/how can you be less busy?
4. What would be the benefits of reducing your business (physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually?