Diary of a campaign manager

By JULIA ZOU, sophomore

FINALLY — a break from the ringing phones, hectic schedule, and mass influx of emails and messages. The election is approaching faster than I could have ever imagined. My friends tell me they haven’t seen me in months. I’ve even neglected my Chipotle addiction. It’s as if I’m in high school again, watching due dates come closer and closer, resisting the urge to procrastinate on anything and everything. There’s just one major difference — I’ve never worked with so much money, millions and millions of dollars. It seems like just yesterday when I got a frantic voicemail to do damage control on the latest campaign fiasco. On a second thought, that was just yesterday.

I wake up to the incessant buzzing of my smartphone alerting me to every little detail: a new opportunity to promote, a last-minute scheduling change, a shortage of toilet paper in the office. I get to work, calling colleagues and assigning articles and campaign materials, while yelling at Larry the intern to run down to the local grocery store. I have mastered the skill of multitasking, and the only casualty I’ve faced is the perpetual kink in my neck where a phone is usually lodged, trapped between my shoulder and my ear. But minor paralysis seems like a small price to pay for the future of the country.

Just a couple months ago, I was at the very bottom of campaign managing, facing my candidate and telling him that his campaign was failing. I had seen numbers (votes, sponsors, approval ratings) just keep going down, down, down, until they plummeted to rock bottom. And then, to defy expectations, the numbers went down some more. That poor man needed me. I emailed him, said that something very important had to be discussed, and set up an appointment. That Saturday afternoon, I walked toward our meeting room and saw that the door was wide open. I peered inside and was greeted with the sight of our potential president with his legs up on the table, drinking a can of Coke with… dare I say it? A polka dot tie. Fool! Don’t you know that polka dots doom their wearer to failure? I could see that I had my work cut out for me.

Just 7249 minutes away from Election Day. If Larry doesn’t show up in five minutes… forget it. I need to find the nearest Chipotle.

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