Bureaucracy 101

I couldn’t tell you if change has come to America because I’ve certainly met it more than half way.

My first week on the job brought a number of realizations, the first being that security is the swaddling blanket of big government. TSA, you’ve been upstaged. To get to work, I must swipe a security pass (requiring an extensive background check) which allows me to proceed through scanners at which point I must show one of 3 security guards the photo on my pass for inspection. Once appeased, the guard will grant me entry to the elevators. At my desk, access to various programs on my computer is protected by 3 different passwords, all with an array of rules to prevent duplication and re-use. So if you want to know where your tax dollars are going, you’d better have a darn good reason… or maybe a body double. On the upside, I had a meeting on Capitol Hill this week and learned that my fancy security pass also gets me in to the Department of Commerce, one of the fine structures flanking the White House. I also learned that my name is already in the halls there; in passing through offices I saw a few of my king crab photos that I’d sent to hatchery visitors in Alaska. Some folks even recognized me, and the ensuing ego puffery of sham importance by association absolutely made my day. I went to “the Hill” because one of my tasks is preparing for a big lobbying push in the Senate coming up in early March. When you represent the government, to say anything to a politician directly you must first gain approval of your talking points from your own office, department, NOAA, and finally the Department of Commerce itself. Not only that, but you will be accompanied in your meeting with said politician by NOAA Legislative Affairs staff to make sure you don’t say anything you shouldn’t. Every document you show or hand them must also go through the same advance approval process. In this capacity, my job is to work with sanctuary staff to generate their messages, then lobby the government for our right to say them to politicians. It’s crazy, but if you want to learn how the system works like I do, it is also very important. But enough business, I have more to share!

Wednesday night I attended a cultural event at the Iraq Embassy, and was able to meet and hear from the ambassador and his staff. Going to an embassy event is kind of like going to a dance at someone else’s school. There was a good atmosphere but I found myself wondering who to talk to, and from time to time why I was there at all. Despite its quirks, the awkward luxury and diplomacy of it all really is an experience worth having in life. I’m sure as I coax people to visit, we will gladly attend more of these events. It had been a long time since I heard such unabashed flattery of George Bush as was espoused by the ambassador, but I suppose it is always wise not to bite the hand that feeds you. The next morning I stepped out of my apartment and noticed a few police cars with lights flashing at the end of the block. I blithely continued on my trajectory toward the metro and quickly learned that what I had taken to be a puddle of police activity was actually the shoreline of a sea of them. For 7 of the 8 blocks to my metro stop, every parking spot on the street was occupied by police or secret service, distinguishable by their impeccably clean black Escalades with heavily tinted windows and funny license plates. A driver sat calmly in each car listening to radio communication of some sort, and dropoff area at the Hilton hotel by my apartment was completely saturated with police. I figured something must be going on there, but decided my gaping jaw already attracted more attention than I could want so I decided not to ask. I learned a short while later that they were the security entourage for President Obama, who was at the Hilton attending a breakfast. At that moment I vowed to always walk to work with a camera so I can catch this spectacle on video next time… I just need to find some awesome spy music to go with it. Who knows, maybe one of these days I’ll catch a glimpse of The Man himself.

Thanks in large part to a kind maintenance worker, in the last week my apartment has gone from a “post-apocalyptic” décor of U-Haul boxes and an inflatable mattress to the decidedly “upper-poverty line” feel of pre-owned home furnishings, carefully arranged to disguise the still-present boxes and inflatable mattress. If this rate of improvement holds up, by July I’ll be sipping champagne from a gold chalice and fanned by trained tigers. On that note, I will continue to fantasize and wish you all well until next week, when I will share more fruit of knowledge freshly picked from my new branch here in the urban jungle.