Adams’ Apples
13 Swimming in Bureaucracy
I TOOK MY TIME getting ready for the day. The four of us resident in the suite played cards and drank martinis until midnight. I couldn’t believe Ms. Smith had been up at eight to answer the door. She’d drunk almost enough to act human. And I knew Jack would still be asleep. Since I suddenly had an administrative assistant, I decided to dress professionally. Jack returned my suit last night, so I pulled it on and knotted the tie. I guess I wouldn’t look entirely out of place in DC.
The shared common area of the suite had been completely rearranged. The dining area had been transformed into an office. Three large computer monitors were arranged around the diminutive figure of my assistant, whose name I still didn’t know. She tapped on a keyboard and swiped images from one screen to another. She had a spreadsheet, a calendar, a word processor, a diagram, and several browser windows open.
I didn’t want to startle her, so I cleared my throat.
“Mr. Smith!” she shouted. She nearly fell out of her chair. So much for not startling her.
“Yes. While I order breakfast for the crew here, why don’t you tell me your name.”
“Name?”
“Yes. You can’t expect me to just say ‘Hey you!’ or worse, call you ‘Miss Administrative Assistant.’ What is your name?”
“Oh. I thought you knew. I’m Mattie Baines. I am officially an intern in the Department of Health and Human Resources. That department was just renamed and is getting a lot of traction with the addition of Mr. Adams. I have been assigned to the Special Office of Reproduction, Duplication, Insemination, and Defense as your administrative assistant.”
“Special Office of Reproduction, Duplication, Insemination, and Defense? SORDID? Really?”
“Let me show you the organization chart,” she said, flipping windows around on her screen until the center was filled with lines and boxes.
“Just a second,” I said as I finished dialing the phone. “Hi. Yeah. Could you send breakfast for five up, please? Yes, I know it’s eleven o’clock. Can we still get breakfast? Fine. We all trust your judgment. Thank you.” I hung up and turned to the screen. Mattie looked like I’d just farted.
“Now here we have the Department of Health and Human Resources. At the top of the organization, of course, is the Secretary. And then the Deputy Secretary and the Chief of staff. Everybody reports to the chief of staff except the Secretary’s personal interests, including the Executive Secretariat, the Office of Health Reform, and the Office on Disability. The Deputy Secretary has the office of Intergovernmental and External Affairs and the Office of Security and Strategic Information. Like I said, everybody else reports to the Chief of Staff, which includes these fourteen offices, plus these programs, administrations, agencies, services, and centers. He’s very important to have twenty-eight boxes reporting to him. Over here, right under the box for the Office of the Assistant Secretary for Health, is our box, the Assistant Secretary for the Special Office of Reproduction, Duplication, Insemination, and Defense.”
“Us, huh? You, me, the Smiths, and Jack Adams?”
“Oh no, sir. Not right under the Assistant Secretary!” Mattie sounded appalled that I’d insult whoever it was that filled that box. She made a gesture at her screen display and moved the org chart to her left, revealing another org chart below it. “This is our organization. Beneath the Assistant Secretary is the Deputy Assistant Secretary and the SORDID Chief of Staff.”
“We have our own Chief of Staff?”
“Of course! That’s how government runs. Without a Chief of Staff, nothing would ever get done. You see, though, that he isn’t nearly as important as the Chief of Staff for the Department of Health and Human Resources. He only has twelve boxes under him and six of those are still empty. But the department only started Monday, so he still has a lot of space to fill. You see that we have the National Repopulation Project, the National Insemination Project, the Directional Committee for Population Demographics, the Project Oversight Committee, the Division for Experimental Cloning, and look! There you are.”
“The Special Liaison for Specimen Care and Well-Being?”
“Yes. And now I have my own box. Notice I don’t work under you. I work next to you as the Care and Well-Being Administrative Assistant.”
“Where is Jack in all this rat’s maze of boxes?”
“Who?”
“Jack Adams. The specimen whose well-being I’m taking care of.”
“Oh. I have to run a search.” She busied herself searching the org charts and sweeping one after another off her screen. “Here we have it. I see why I couldn’t find him. He doesn’t have a direct line of reporting. He has a dotted line structure to the NRP, the NIP, the DoD, Homeland Security, the White House, and the Congressional Committee on Natural Resources. It’s just labeled ‘Specimen’.” There was a knock at the door and I went to let in room service, who were thrown by the absence of the dining room where they would normally serve breakfast.
“Try setting up in the conference room,” I suggested. “Okay. I’d say that was a good day’s work, Mattie. We can knock off for the day. Breakfast, Jack!” I bellowed. “Smith and Smith! We have food!” The two agents emerged from their rooms typically dressed in black and wearing sunglasses. Both groaned and reached to close the drapes as Jack stumbled out of his bedroom.
“Oh, but sir! We can’t quit yet. You have 357 email messages to respond to!”
Mattie Baines was shocked that I woke up at ten, was ready for breakfast at eleven-thirty, and intended to knock off for the day at noon. You’d think I was the president or something.
Still, she needed to get things on track and insisted I answer my email or the entire government would come to a screeching halt. After all, she had a bachelor’s degree in Public Administration. When I started mixing drinks, she dragged me physically to her chair in the dining room and pushed me down.
“You have three hundred… Now 412 email messages,” Mattie said. “You need to acknowledge and respond or no one will be able to progress with their work. The entire government will come to a standstill.”
“No. I’m not going to sit here and read four hundred email messages. I have enough email on my laptop to keep me busy and most of it is important,” I said, stubbornly pushing back from the desk.
“Oh, no! You can’t use a personal computer in a government office. People will think you are hiding things. And if you delete anything… You could tie up congress for months, just investigating.” Mattie pushed me back to the desk and I scanned down the list of messages.
“Wait! Most of these messages are a ‘reply-all’ to the same message. It’s down to dozens of ‘Re: Re: Re: Re:’ They don’t all need a response.” I pushed Mattie away as she valiantly tried to keep me at the desk. Little girl, if you think we’re going to have a wrestling match, you’re going to get pinned. “Find the original message. Type ‘Thank you.’ Hit reply all and then delete everything else. Do the same thing for any new messages. Don’t bother me with them unless the building is on fire.”
“Mr. Smith,” Mattie wailed. “What about the replies to your reply?”
“Original messages only, Mattie. No wonder no one gets anything done in DC.”
“What about your meeting requests. You have a schedule and are due at the first meeting in twenty minutes.”
“What kind of meeting is it?”
“An organizational meeting for the whole office.”
“How long is it scheduled to last?”
“It’s on the calendar for four hours.”
“So, should I attend the first fifteen minutes or the last?”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“That’s my peak tolerance for meetings. No more than three a week. No more than fifteen minutes each. Now. First or last?” I insisted. I was not here to make anyone’s job easier. Mattie frantically tried to make sense of the request.
“If you wait until the last fifteen minutes to attend, they’ll figure they need to go over everything again for your benefit. The meeting could stretch on for hours past the scheduled time. If you must, attend the first fifteen minutes. By then, most will forget you are there,” Mattie sighed.
“You see, Mattie? You’re trainable. Now, as soon as I leave this meeting… in forty minutes from now, you are taking Jack and me shopping. Be sure you have a company credit card. I don’t plan to use mine. Neither Jack nor I have more than a single change of clothes and this is the fifth day we are in them. Get the Smiths to arrange transportation to someplace we can maintain a low profile. Got it?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith.” Once she had clear directions from her boss, Mattie was in her element. She knew her way around. She probably never thought Public Administration would include shopping trips, but she had to realize, everyone in the apartment was smelling a little gamey.
“Where is this meeting and how do I get there?”
“The new executive office building can be reached through the underground garage. Go to the north elevators and up to the seventh floor. You’ll be in conference room 7004.”
“Just walk over and walk in? Don’t I need to identify myself to someone?”
“You got a badge when you visited the White House yesterday. Simply present that to any scanner and the door will open. You don’t have any weapons or large metal objects on you, do you?”
“No. I’ll not be giving up my cell phone, though.”
“Of course not, sir! Who would ever give up his cell phone?”
“All right. My responsibility is care and well-being of Jack Adams. Yours is care and well-being of me. Make damn sure Jack is still here when I get back!”
The meeting was unremarkable. I showed up on time, waited fifteen minutes for everyone else to show up, and left. I noted Colonel Smythe, attended by his ever-present lieutenant, engaged in a battle of manners with Dr. Mangeler of the NRP at the door. Apparently, some amount of status was given to the person who was latest to the meeting. Eventually, the battle of manners devolved into a pushing match and, being tougher than Mangeler, the Colonel managed to push the doctor through the door, immediately followed by another man I recognized as the Secretary of Health and Human Resources. I let thirty more seconds tick off and, as Secretary Ambrose began the meeting, I left.
“Well, that was a good meeting,” I said cheerily as I entered the apartment. Jack was sipping a Bloody Mary and the MIB appeared to have recovered from their hangovers. Mattie stood by the door with her bag in hand. “I see we’re ready. Head ’em up and move ’em out!” Jack drank down the last of his Bloody Mary and joined me as Ms. Smith MIB led the way out and Mr. Smith MIB brought up the tail.
“How has your day been, Jack?” I asked when we were settled in the Suburban. The Smiths had the front seat and I’d maneuvered Mattie against the door and Jack between us.
“Not too bad. It took forever to get a drink.”
“Mattie…”
“Yes, sir. Bloody Mary for Jack as soon as he wakes up.” She bent to write a note on her tablet.
“Good girl. While you’re making notes, Jack and I are getting some new clothes but we’ll still need laundry done on a regular basis. See that the house arranges a laundry pick up for the apartment twice a week.”
“Yes, sir. Laundry twice a week.”
“And I prefer my coffee in a mug, not one of those little cups. There was hardly enough in that cup this morning to get me started. Now where are we going?”
“The Shops at Georgetown Park, sir. I believe there are adequate men’s stores available to suit your needs.” I was impressed with the calm efficiency Mattie exhibited now that I’d shown her who was boss.
“While you’re at it, Mattie, I want you to organize our meals so I don’t have to think about what Jack is eating while I’m still trying to wake up myself. Check to make sure the bar stock is maintained. And twice a week—not on the weekend—arrange a dinner reservation at the restaurant of Jack’s choice. We’ll go nuts if we never get out of the apartment. Let’s start tonight. Jack? What are you in the mood for?”
“Could we just get some spaghetti and garlic bread? The food at Blair House has been good, but I haven’t recognized a single dish they’ve served. What was that breakfast stuff they served this morning?”
“That was Moroccan Baked Eggs,” Mattie said. “Didn’t you like it?”
“The eggs were runny and it had some kind of grass in it!” Jack complained.
“That was alfalfa sprouts.”
“I’m not a cow!”
“Easy there, Jack,” I soothed him as we pulled into the parking garage of the shopping mall. “We’re going to get it fixed. Work with Mattie here to tell her what you like for breakfast she’ll work with the kitchen. They aren’t used to us farm boys here in DC.” Jack relaxed back, nodding. Ms. Smith turned in her seat and I could see an eyebrow raised above the level of her sunglasses.
Life in DC became one boring day after another. It was almost as though we’d been forgotten while the great machines of government chugged up to speed, adding more weight for every advance they made. By the following Monday, all twelve of the boxes reporting to the SORDID Chief of Staff had been filled and were pooping out little boxes under them.
Jack and I talked to our wives daily, played cards and drank with the Smiths, and started getting on well with Mattie as she efficiently managed the messages and meals.
I needed to talk to my own chief, Ed Erebus, the editor of the Orlando News.
“I wondered if you’d ever bother to call and give notice,” Ed barked into the phone. I could almost feel his shadow stealing over me from a thousand miles away.
“Are you saying I don’t work for you now?” Ramsey asked.
“Well, how can you have a job with the government and still have one here? You haven’t filed a story since last Monday. Is there really nothing happening up there?”
“Let’s say we’ve been rather isolated,” I suggested. “With the way things were moving last weekend, I assumed Jack would have half the women in the country pregnant by now. They haven’t even asked for a meeting with him since the press conference. He’s pretty blue, but I’ve been trying to get him out of the house more often.”
“You’re supposed to be a newsman. Find some news. But you are no longer on our payroll. You can’t get paid here and there, too.”
“Paid? Crap! I have no idea how I’m getting paid. And Jack. He needs a paycheck. He’s got a wife and a baby. Talk to you later, Ed. I need to call Mattie.”
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