“Enter G Man”
In 2002 I made the decision that I wanted to work for the United States government.
The only problem: George W. Bush was President, Dick Cheney was running everything, and they had absolutely no use for a guy like me.
Washington, DC, 2002
As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a public servant.
President Kennedy loomed large over the home I grew up in.
As did his brother, Bobby.
In my family, serving your country was a noble obligation.
Making the world a better place for others was a moral imperative.
And committing yourself to the public’s best interest was an honorable vocation.
But 2002 was not a great year for a liberal idealist seeking a career opportunity in the federal government.
Right wing cynicism defined the Bush administration.
And the rambunctious achievements of my youth made it extremely unlikely I’d ever pass a pre-employment background check.
Throughout my childhood and adolescence, exasperated adults exclaimed “This is going on your permanent record!”
I was shocked the first time I heard this. Oh, no! My permanent record!
The next several dozen times I heard it, I just laughed. Oh, no. My permanent record.
But I was not laughing now. Not in 2002.
Married, with two baby girls ages 2 and 4, I needed a paycheck.
So, I made the decision that I was going to work for my government: The United States of America.
In spite of the political climate and my checkered past, I was going to become a public servant.
I just needed to figure out how.
I studied the federal government. What it did. How it spent our tax dollars. What its priorities were.
And I saw an opening.
In 2002, the United States government was good at one thing. And only one thing. Waging war.
Not winning a war. Waging war.
Afghanistan. Iraq. Libya. Bosnia. Kosovo. Haiti. Drugs. You name it. Waging war was the easy answer to every complex problem the United States government encountered.
As far as I could see, since 1945 the United States government had never won a war. It just declared war and waged war.
And in doing so the United States government produced an endless number of military veterans (and families of military veterans) needing help.
This would be where I came in.
This would be my opportunity.
I would help those that had borne the real cost of the battle.
At the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.
It was not easy getting hired by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs in 2002.
It rarely had job openings. And when a job opened, hundreds of qualified candidates applied.
The odds were long.
And even if a candidate was selected, they had to successfully complete a one year probationary period (during which they could be fired for no reason at all).
It's much easier finding employment in the private sector.
Where the pay is better.
But I'd made my decision.
And, after a relentless campaign over several months, I prevailed.
I became a public servant with the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.
Once on board, I was amazed by how smart and hard working my new colleagues were. It took my best effort just to keep up.
My new VA coworkers eyed me with suspicion. So I worked my tail off to earn their respect and trust.
I also kept an eye on the calendar. And that one year probationary period.
One day my supervisor -- the VA leader who hired me -- asked if I'd be interested in attending a government conference in Pennsylvania.
Eager to curry favor, I said yes.
And before I knew it, I was on my way to a week-long meeting of government ethics officials in Valley Forge.
It was an enormous event. In the dead of winter.
U.S. government employees from every agency attended. From around the world, hundreds of federal employees converged on the Valley Forge facility.
And I did not know any of them.
There were classes, lectures and seminars. All led by experts.
My hotel room filled with so many new books, manuals and handouts, that I had no idea how I'd get them back home.
I could feel my brain stretching from all the new information I was taking in.
I also found it difficult to believe I was in this position. I was a mere four months into my new job.
Why was I here, I wondered.
At lunch on Wednesday, a gentleman asked if he could sit next to me.
I said of course he could.
Small talk smoothly moved to his asking open ended questions.
And me running my mouth.
A lot.
After about an hour, I felt a sinking feeling in my abdomen.
While sitting together, I now knew that this gentleman was a graduate of the University of North Carolina, had been a Nuclear Missile Operations Officer in the Air Force, and had briefly lived in Dallas.
But he now knew more than that about me.
A lot more.
My sinking feeling was now joined by an increase in my pulse rate.
This gentleman knew I worked for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.
But, an hour into our conversation, I had no idea who he worked for.
So, I asked.
"Which agency are you with?"
Without any emotion, my lunch companion said, "I'm with the FBI.”
I nearly threw up.
I also said “Damn” louder than necessary.
And I closed my eyes in order to compose myself.
"So," I reopened my eyes. "You've seen my file?"
"Yes, I have.” The G Man said. "And it's very thick."
Thank you for reading.
I appreciate it.
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Another cliffhanger.