![]() Leaving Russell, I purchased the boxed flags in another Senate office building, then stacked them on the dolly and wheeled them into the Capitol. Once a week (and twice or even three times a week during the lead-up to the Fourth of July), I went into a closet in the front office, pulled out a dolly and had my run of the Capitol’s basement tunnels. I even began purchasing flags as wedding gifts. I knew that nylon flags were for outdoors, cotton flags for ceremonies. I could recommend the perfect size for any occasion. Often, I would format keepsake certificates celebrating life’s achievements: an Eagle Scout ceremony, a service academy graduation, a military retirement, a golden anniversary. Besides, it was kind of fun.Įven in 2006, the process to get flags flown was archaic, involving checks and cash - no credit cards - and filling out carbon-paper forms by hand. It was a mundane task, one that had me asking, “I went to college for this?” But I later realized that doing small tasks with care usually translates to bigger opportunities. And so I did, cradling the receiver between my ear and shoulder as I carried out my other great responsibility: flags.Įvery member of Congress has a staffer devoted to flying flags over the Capitol for constituents. I knew that neither I nor the senator could solve most of these problems. I listened to every constituent concern under the sun: Solve the immigration problem! Ban horse slaughter! Help me with my gallstone! The subtext: Think long and hard about the people back home who will get hurt if you burn that bridge with a colleague.ĭuring the day, I was a staff assistant, the grunt of Capitol Hill. “Your adversary today could be your ally tomorrow,” she told us. During a brown-bag lunch with the junior staff, the senator stressed the importance of having an apolitical career before running for public office. I worked in that office for only nine months, but they were formative. Kay Bailey Hutchison at the 2006 Dickies 500 stock car race at the Texas Motor Speedway in Fort Worth. Such a sentiment is the first thing anyone learns when starting a career in Washington. To cause embarrassment in any way would be to utterly fail as a staffer. We were proud of her and proud of Texas, and we knew everything we did reflected on both institutions. Some staffers were hyperconservative others were pragmatic and moderate. Her staff was like an alumni roster of the old Southwest Conference: the University of Texas at Austin, Texas A&M, Baylor, Rice, Texas Tech and smaller colleges across the state. She expected a lot from us, but she got things done for Texas. There was pride in working for Hutchison. Money was tight, but I didn’t mind because I was so eager to learn. As a newcomer, I toured the sites, watched movies, explored neighborhoods, all on my own. Circulator bus across town to work in the Russell Senate Office Building. On Monday morning, I put on my new Ann Taylor suit and took the D.C. Some older Texas girls had an extra room in a Georgetown townhouse for me. I came into town on a Sunday flight with two suitcases. (I was a ticket-splitter, in case anyone is wondering.) More crucially, I respected her. On the other hand, I voted for her in my first-ever election. Part of my decision to move to Washington was my anger over the Iraq War, which she supported. They appreciated it when I said that I wanted to serve my home state and that I understood my place in the hierarchy. And a Maureen Dowd lecture at the LBJ School sealed the deal: I was moving to Washington instead.Īs I looked for jobs, I got a call from the senator’s office. In that span, my precocious high school love for Tim Russert’s “Meet the Press” morphed into an obsession. I intended to move to Los Angeles to write soap operas after college, but an ACL injury from intramural softball my last semester at the University of Texas at Austin kept me in town for an extra year. I usually lost it all, even though as a nanny I’d obsessively watched “Celebrity Poker Showdown” during afternoon nap time. I budgeted $20 for my weekly gambling adventure, as a pack of her staffers decamped to whoever’s apartment was large enough for a dining room table and hours of, appropriately, Texas Hold ’Em. But for me, a lonely extrovert, “wheels up” meant one thing: poker night. It meant the senator was on her way back home to Texas, a relay exercise in which the state-based staff took over the heavy lifting of running a Senate operation. Kay Bailey Hutchison’s front office, I eagerly awaited the email that came in around 6 p.m. Thursday was once my favorite day in Washington.įrom my perch answering phones in U.S. " Essay: The education and disillusionment of a young Texas reporter in D.C." was first published by The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan media organization that informs Texans - and engages with them - about public policy, politics, government and statewide issues. ![]()
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