On one of my first days in this business, I was given a cartoon with Bart Simpson saying, “Hey man, one more fundraiser and I walk…” I had no idea Bart would be so insightful.
Fundraisers are an engrained part of today’s political culture. For many – politicians and lobbyists included – it’s recognized as an unenviable necessity of the ever-increasing cost of campaigning. But I have no interest in debating the public policy implications. Rather, let me give you a non-political perspective of fundraisers.
To those not associated with this town, attending fundraisers may seem either alluring (it’s not) or over-indulgent (it is). I find it humorous that many outsiders think going to fundraisers “glamorous.” I swear my family thinks I dine on beluga caviar and drink champagne every day I go to work. I quit trying to explain to people that for $1000 I’m munching on cocktail wienies and sipping flat ginger ale.
The fact is, lobbyists are inundated with a constant barrage of invitations to breakfasts and dinners, with an occasional luncheon thrown-in for good measure. My record for fundraisers attended in one morning is a measly five breakfasts. But I have little doubt that many of my colleagues have attended far more than that. I can only imagine the record for total fundraisers attended in one day (anyone?) -- probably more times than our President has mispronounced the word “nuclear.”
With all the running around, at least I’m burning calories -- the runny eggs, the rubber sausages, the soggy chicken fingers and re-occurring meat balls (you know what I’m talking about) are a staple of a lobbyist’s diet. With that in mind, imagine the irony in holding a fundraiser for the anti-obesity campaign.
Fortunately, other lobbyists have become my support group. Even the most ardent of political enemies are allies on any given morning or evening. Not only do we provide encouragement to one another (think of Cool Hand Luke swallowing the eggs while the rest of the inmates shouted encouragement), but we help one another out. I don’t have to worry whether I have food in my teeth while speaking to the House Majority Leader, because I can always count on my colleagues to help me out -- “Here’s my knife, Jim. You might want to chisel that broccoli stem jutting from your teeth.”
All the whining aside, there are positive aspects and useful skills learned from “the circuit,” as it’s called, but I have to leave that for a later date. Right now, I gotta deliver a $500 check for cheese, crackers and a Shasta.
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