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- RedBull and cigarettes. It’s a lifestyle.
- GOT(F)V. Get Out The (F*#^ing) Vote.
- Random person: “Do you have any yard signs?”
- You: “Would you like to volunteer?”
- Random person: “No.”
- You: “Oh. Then no, we don’t have any yard signs.”
- “Hi, my name is _____. Do you have a moment to answer just a few questions about the upcoming election?”
- Instant coffee.
- You know the name of every single county in your state.
- The love/hate relationship you have with your volunteers.
- Purchasing cigarettes by the carton. #health
- You’ve gone literal days without sleep. In all seriousness, you actually almost died.
- Everyone you know has slept with everyone you know.
- You were unnecessarily pretentious and referred to yourself as an “operative.” Give it up, you worked in the field. Just call it like it is.
- That moment of pure joy when a walkbook is not only completed, but filled out correctly.
- You’ve hidden under your desk. You’ve also napped under there.
- Being in a perpetual state of either drunk or hungover.
- You worked for morons. Pure morons.
- You’ve quite literally whored yourself out for money that you didn’t even personally receive.
- The West Wing and House of Cards gave you a false sense of entitlement and self-worth.
- Sign blitzing. Only doable when absolutely hammered.
- You’ve acted as a babysitter, a personal assistant, a life coach, a therapist, a yogi, a grief counselor, a financial advisor, and quite frankly, a little bitch.
- Being awake at 4am was a regular occurrence, whether it be because of an early meeting or because you still hadn’t gone to bed.
- You once wanted to run for office.
- You no longer want to.
- People frequently told you to get a “real job.”
- No benefits. Just….none. Thank the Lord for mom and dad.
- Your lifestyle was often compared to that of a gypsy, and in all seriousness, it wasn’t the worst comparison. You moved a lot, you drank a lot, and your morals were questionable at best. Expense reports that ended in multiple zeros.
- Being on a first name basis with the pizza delivery boy and the McDonalds drive-thru girl.
- You got fat. Like, really, really, fat.
- Your older volunteers added you on Facebook…and still comment on all of your statuses.
- A normal sleep schedule? What is that?
- You now hate both political parties. You hate the side you worked for just a little bit less, mind you; but you do very much hate them both.
- Independents are honestly just in the way. GOODBYE. Let the big kids play.
- The miles you put on your car are the reason your warranty expired two years before it ever should have.
- Jeep Cherokees. All day every day.
- You own more t-shirts than a sorority girl. If you happened to also have been a sorority girl, you now own enough t-shirts to outfit a small European country.
- Liquor on the rocks.
- Coffee for breakfast, coffee for lunch, whiskey for dinner.
- Your salary was such that some years you fell below the poverty line.
- At some point or another, a volunteer told you “you’re working for me,” and you contemplated going to jail for assault at that very moment in time.
- Politicians are assholes. Who knew? Oh, everyone? Everyone knew that? Cool.
- The painful 45 minute explanation of how to phone bank to your older volunteers.
- Conference calls. Morning, noon, and night. Awesome.
- The “X Days Til Election Day” wall calendar you started 182 days out. It was your only friend.
- The fact that you once had to explain to your candidate the difference between the House and Senate.
- The “my boss is an asshole…but he’s less of an asshole than the other guy” justification you did in your head to keep you from quitting.
- You lost; otherwise, you’d still be in the game. If you’re still in the game, Godspeed you sons of bitches.
Is it just me or have your written this same article like 5 times?
You quit the campaign and joined the civil service where you get paid, benefits, an hour for lunch, weekends and holidays off, and a 40-hour work week. Screw campaigns real jobs are awesome.
Yea..this pretty accurately describes campaign work but not working in a district or congressional office.
This should read: Signs you worked on a /campaign/.
Been there, done that – (except for the smoking and drinking parts) – once had to give a candidate a “cure” for a sore throat because I’d once worked in a hospital, so of course I had to know. another time, I got a candidate through the primary, then he figured it was smooth sailing, fired me and lost by 180 votes. And one time had the same position for two different Presidential candidates (state media & strategy coordinator) after one crapped out and self-destructed. All I had to do was change my button.
Can’t be that busy if you have time for smoke breaks; dip is for the discerning man with a tight schedule.
I really like Jeep Cherokees though.
I took up smoking as means to get out of my office and hide from volunteers.
I actually considered taking up smoking. I used to tell my fiance, if I say in this line of work, no shot I’ll make it to age 50. Eighty hours work weeks, no weekends for half the year, living paycheck to paycheck, all for a candidate you were pretty sure you’d do a better job than. So glad I got out.
Irish coffee breaks work better. Nobody looks twice at that reusable Starbucks cup.
having a smoke is the possible only time you have an excuse to walk outside and breath….
it’s not always the nicotine you want. its the peace and quiet.
Two different candidates (at different times) couldn’t believe I didn’t want a job “after we win” … and one of them did win and the job offer was sweet and in DC, but fortunately, I wasn’t THAT insane … (do you know the life-expectancy of junior-assistant deputy to the assistant deputy to the deputy assistant PR guy in the White House? It’s measured in nano-seconds) …
Trying to act sophisticated while schmoozing with donors who make your annual salary every 10 minutes.
You see, I’m one of those people who is in charge of 200 “operatives,” and I haven’t had to do shit. Come April though, rock n’ roll baby