Herban Sprawl

It is a sunny autumn morning in downtown Roanoke, VA. Two young men are engaged in conversation as they walk into the restaurant for breakfast biscuits. They could be anyone’s kids, but what separates them from the other twenty-somethings who populate our downtown is that these are political operatives who are running the so-called ground campaign for a presidential candidate. The place they call home is somewhere else in these United States.

You wouldn’t know them from the regular residents. They look the same, they walk around with cell phones plastered to their ears, and they carry bags with the ubiquitous laptops slung over their shoulders. They don’t wear identifying campaign “bling,” and they don’t stick out. They are unfailingly polite and you never hear the barrage of profanity that peppers the speech of their demographic.

These are the kids who were taught by means of cooperative learning in school, so they are well suited for this candidate’s method of organizing. They acknowledge the prickly among them, but they don’t make a big deal out of it and they just do what they do without fanfare and without visible friction. If the candidate seems terminally laid-back, so, too, do his operatives.

I’ve been volunteering in one of those offices because I don’t want this election to be decided by the Supreme Court again. I don’t think that is where candidates should pick up their wins. With my arthritic knees and a Johnny-come-lately case of tendonitis in my elbow, my skills as a receptionist and temp secretary are handy for them. I stuff big manila envelopes, repack the door-to-door folders for the canvassers, empty the trash and do whatever I can to keep the place tidy enough for this work to be done.

Those of us who have been moaning about the general lackadaisical behavior of a younger generation can relax a little. This group is nothing short of stellar. Not only is their demeanor especially remarkable, but they are constantly busy without being told what to do. They voluntarily help each other and they don’t have an ego about any job being beneath them. You can chalk that up to the way they are trained for these positions, or you can thank the teachers who showed them how to work cooperatively. Either way, I can assure you, they are hard workers and they are committed to making this a better world.

I learned that they aren’t allowed to talk to the press. I understand that completely. There are too many slick reporters out there who will seize on an errant remark and make a mountain out of a molehill. Likewise, trade secrets need to be kept within the family. Volunteers, unless they are the ‘operative’ sort, aren’t told much beyond what they need to do to accomplish any given task, be it manning the phone bank or going door-to-door. The beauty of it is that everything runs like clockwork.

But who are these young people? The ones I have worked with have earned my respect and I have to fight my auntly tendency to patronize them because, to be completely honest, I could just scoop them all up and hug them to death. One works as an engineer for a leading dot com that we all use every day of our lives. Another works in a law firm that litigates environmental cases. Yet another works in the office of a firm that manufactures wooden pallets. Some of them are professional political operatives, living like gypsies as they travel from campaign location to campaign location. There are many more of them, but you get the picture.

Those who have other nine to five jobs are taking vacation time or leaves of absence. They bunk with those of us who have opened our homes to them, but they feed themselves, pouring a fair amount of lucre into the downtown restaurants and coffee shops. They use their own cell phones and laptops and supply their own transportation. The compensation for the paid staff is comparable to that of the typical cash-strapped non-profit. How much reimbursement for expenses is a closely guarded secret, but it probably isn’t much. This is a labor of love, after all.

I haven’t heard one single grammar gaffe. (Thank their teachers and their parents!) I haven’t witnessed any ego outbursts. The worst thing is that there can be a tendency to micromanage, but this is important work and taking it seriously cannot be faulted. There is no time to lose and it needs to be done right the first time around. I will admit to flashing a teacher “look,” however and feeling alternately elated and guilty that I still had my chops! (Truth is, while I was being given directions, I already had my strategy mapped out because it’s a task I could do in my sleep. I just wanted him to go do what he does so well and leave me to do what I do so well. No biggie.)

What one does hear is the gratitude being expressed openly and honestly. The camaraderie that has developed between the operatives and the local resident volunteers is solid. Everyone has a goal and everyone is focused on that goal. Young people on the phone recruiting more volunteers are personable and welcoming, but it doesn’t end there. When you show up to do your shift, they let you know how much you are appreciated. The energy is good and the people truly do respect one another. You can’t fake that.

Additionally, the thing that is stressed is training. This is a hallmark of community organizing. Young people understand the necessity of training, and the numbers of them who have volunteered for, or been employed by, this campaign will take that back into the workplace. If businesses routinely engaged in that level of training for their employees, turnover would absolutely be lowered and productivity would go up.

As statistics affirm get-out-the-vote efforts (GOTV), young adults transform political apathy into patriotic activism. To coin their expressions, they’re “rock stars” and “awesome.” Really!