My Disastrous Day as a Dreadful Lobbyist
A Funny Thing Happened to Political Change!
There are some political issues I feel pretty strongly about, and I must admit I’ve dreamed of seizing an opportunity to persuade a lawmaker with my eloquent rhetoric. So, why…when I was finally given a chance, did I make such a horrible blunder of it all? This is my painful story…
It all began when I read in the newspaper that a State Senator was going to visit our small town for the opening of our new City Hall building. After a dedication ceremony, there would be a town hall session so that the locals could enjoy a question and answer period with our legislative luminary. It was my perfect opportunity to make him listen to reason on a subject close to my heart.
I arrived in time to see his limousine pull into the back of the old courthouse, and I figured I might catch him on his way to the dedication ceremony, next door, if I hurried. Quickly, I parked and ran for the courthouse door. I pushed my way inside, giddy at the thought that everyone else was naive enough to wait for him next door. I ran to the back of the building, and he wasn’t there. I ran around, looking for him. Where could he have gone? I figured I must have missed him, somehow, and I headed back to the front door to go catch the ceremony with everyone else. That’s when I tripped on a step and fell face down on the marble. That’s also when I landed at his feet. I saw him as I fell, and immediately sprang to my feet, a little wobbly but upright.
He studied me and asked, “Are you alright?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but…nothing. Not a single sound would come out. After a dreadful moment that seemed more like thirty, I simply nodded. He smiled at me. That helped. I managed to say something. It was, “Buh, buh, buh.”
His smile melted into concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Once more, I nodded. “Duh-duh-duh,” I added.
And with a grave look of concern, he left me, ushered away by his entourage. He slipped out the door, and my chance slipped away with him.
But wait! I knew he was going to have the Q and A session later, so I waited patiently for the dedication ceremony to end. I thought I was being patient, but something strange developed. While he droned on about his record of service to the community, I kept thinking about how I needed to say something — anything — halfway intelligent. My dreams of lobbying for big change were metamorphosing into a goal of forming coherent words. I really hadn’t taken the day off from work to make myself into a public idiot. The seriousness of it all hit me hard.
First, my hands started to shake, then my arms, and before long, I was quaking all over. My heart raced, my head pounded, and worst of all, I couldn’t think of a single grand word. All my dreams of eloquence had dissolved into inky-dark pools that slid around the back side of my brain. I couldn’t think of any word, at all!
Finally, he called for questions. His aid motioned people to a microphone set up at the side of the audience area. I stood up and felt my knees buckle slightly, but I was determined to do something, say something, after all this torment. I promised myself that it was just nerves, and that I would find the right words at the right moment. Twenty other people made their way to the microphone at the same time, and I waited for my turn. As each person stepped forward and pronounced their question, I felt more panicky. Finally, the person in front of me left the microphone open, and I stepped forward.
That’s when I froze. My hand on the mike. My mouth gaping open. I managed to utter, “Tuh, tuh, tuh.” My eyes must have rolled up to the back of my head, because I don’t recall seeing anything else. Time stopped. And then, it disappeared altogether. The next thing I recall is lying on my back with people fanning me. The mayor announced an end to the questions, and the Senator was gone.
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