You had forgotten how goddamn long the drive down the NYC could be. On a good day, it takes over two hours. Two hours in your small, uncomfortable, not air-conned at
all car. You check the (barely working) temperature gauge. 33 degrees celsius. Hottest day of the goddamn month.
This is
not a good day. The radio says those eight fucking words you don't want to hear. You
never want to hear. 'There has been an accident on the I-87'. God-fucking-damn it! You are
on the I-87. At least you know it is coming, so you can keep yourself more or less in check as traffic comes to a slow crawl. You switch the station, only to have your ears blasted by the screeching noises that constitute 'New Age Pop'. Fucking youth today.
Flicking the radio off so hard you break the shitty, plastic knob off, you find yourself stuck. Subjected to shitty pop-music you can't escape, and stifling heat, while sandwiched between
two fucking idiots that need to learn to drive. You pull a cigar out of the front tray of your shitty car, and decide to make the most of a shitty situation. Relaxing as much as you can in your shitty seat, you light the cigar, and settle in for the long haul.
An hour and a half later you finally make it into the office, and your PA whimpers at the cloudy look on your face. You
hate being late. She knows you hate being late. The entire office knows you hate being late.
"Don't just fucking stand there, Jeanie. Coffee.
Now!" Ordinarily you'd feel bad for the girl, it's not her fault, but she's used to your mood swings by now. For some reason she's stuck by you these last few years. Even after that goddamn disaster in Kansas. Fucking Sam Brownback….
Shaking your head, you stomp up the hall to your office, almost throwing yourself into the seat and look at the clock. You blow out a breath. You pick up the phone on your desk and dial your newest intern. You'll berate him for not being in your office eventually, but you need answers right now.
"Y….yes, sir?"" He answers timidly.
You don't bother with small talk. "Right. Do we know how serious Pataki is about this? Because I want to know
before I drive to his campaign office." You sound like you've smoked a humidors worth of cigarettes, and gargled gravel. Like a fucking
Noir character. Byootiful.
"I….I uh….I think so, sir." Greaaaaaat. Poor kid sounds like he's fucking shaking.
"
Think?!" You growl. "I don't pay you to fucking
think.
Find out!" He yelps and the line goes dead. Yeah. He's pissed himself. You sigh, and your PA brings you the first cup of whiskey topped up coffee of the morning.
"You don't pay the interns, boss." Jeanie sighs, and sits across from you, pouring a small tipple into her own cup. She also pushes some
coffee flavored coffee across to you, for when you'd finished off the special brew, which you do,
quickly.
"So, Jeanie, we got any clue about Pataki?" She shrugged, and drained her own cup, taking yours off you so she put them in the recycling bins. You've got your deadlines, she's got her goddamn recycling. No wonder she can put up with your shit.
"Vaguely. Call seemed legit at the time, but who knows if one of the interns didn't piss them off in the meantime." She didn't seem to care all that much, as she got up to take your crap to the recycling.
"Make sure to scream at that fuckin' intern if he hasn't got anything by the time you've...I dunno, satiated ya fucking recycling fetish." Pulling up a folder on your computer, you get ready to get properly stuck in to your work. As much as you rib Jeanie, it's good PR that she's a fucking nut job. Everybody's raving about recycling these days. Goddamn freaks. Gotta have a media friendly office, right?
The office was a goddamn mess, even if everything important was on your computer. You pushed the computer back, grabbing some paper from that fucking Sam Brownback had sent you as a prop so as you could see your goddamn screen in this fucking hot, sunny, bullshit weather.
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Three goddamn cups of shitty, brewed from a machine coffee, you finally get a fucking call back, just as you are ready to rip into that little shit of an intern for keeping you waiting forty-five fucking minutes. Jesus! What was he fucking doing? But luckily for him he comes back with something good. Something to make up for your shitty fucking morning.
George
fucking Pataki is on the line and waiting to speak to you. This is it. It's really happening.
"George! Sh….Uh, this is really unexpected! How are you?" There is a rich, grandfatherly laugh on the other end, and it shuts you right up.
"Just calling to check in on the campaign staff I hired. Everything alright on your end?" You nod like a goddamn five year old watching one of the bullshit morning kids shows your nephew watchs.
"Yeah, yeah! We are. We're doing fine. Was just about to drive over to your campaign office, so we could get a handle on what kind of assets we would be working with!" It's pretty standard, hopefully things aren't too bad, but you don't think it will be spectacular. You're not super hopeful.
You can hear George nod on the other end. "Sure, sure. Come on over, we'll grab some lunch and we can talk about where the campaign's at."Shit. You
know George. You know what George means when he says
that. It's gonna be another one of those campaigns. Still, this is a
Presidential campaign. Presi-fucking-dential! You never thought you'd be running one of those. It'll be great! Great experience, at least.
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You pull your suit back on properly, Jeanie goes over it with a fine lint-roller, and you begin to formulate questions in your head. You
definitely need to… (pick 3)
- [] Suss out any….questionable political positions. George hasn't had to win an election since 2002. It might be a good idea to get a rundown of what he believes in these days.
- [] Figure out the financial base. You need to know what kind of cash you'll be working with in Iowa.
- [] Ground pounders. You need 'em, you hope he has 'em.
- [] Organisational level. You should figure out where everything stands organisation wise. What states you are/aren't on the ballot yet, and why.
- [] Donors, potential and otherwise. Finding out from George who funded his campaign ages ago might be good. You could get back in contact with them!
- [] Endorsements. You doubt he has any yet, but maybe he's got one or two lined up? Hopefully, at least.
- [] Write in. Hopefully you've covered everything, but maybe you forgot something? (Subject to GM approval)