by Annie Scott
December 16, 2007

The new job — the first salaried, post-college employment — was in full swing, and I was beginning to learn what a consultant actually does.

As an “associate” at a firm in the Washington, D.C. area, I worked under a federal program that seemed like a golden opportunity to put my problem-solving skills to the test, learn about implementing programs in the real world and immerse myself in an issue I was passionate about.

Two federal agencies provided funding and oversight. A large, well-funded government agency (or two!) would seem like an entity with the power to make things happen, especially when the program was a win-win for all involved. From any angle it seemed like an-all too-rare federal program that had a good shot at accomplishing its objectives.

If only it were that simple.

The first week at work, I asked why two agencies with such relatively divergent missions would work together at all. My boss’s response? “Because they have to.”

Oh. So, I asked, do they at least work well together? “No (accompanied by dramatic eye-rolling). That’s what we’re here for.” Then he gave a withering look that suggested he was already reconsidering his decision to hire someone straight out of college. I persisted with my questions anyway. So…are we their only contractor for this program? “No. There are two others and a number of sub-contractors. Typical for a program of this size.” My head was starting to spin. Then what do our clients actually do? “They report what we do to their bosses, set unrealistic targets for us to meet and approve or reject our ideas before taking credit for the good ones. That’s how it works.”

Hmm. At least this was quicker than learning the hard way. I decided to venture one last question. Do their disagreements make it difficult to get things done? Clearly the wrong question — all I got was a dismissive laugh and patronizing pat on the shoulder before he walked away chuckling.

Fittingly, the most progressive — and entertaining — part of the business was the talk itself. It was a major part of the game. New buzzwords and jargon sprouted up weekly, and once they were overheard it was a race to see who could incorporate them into the most conference calls and PowerPoint slides in the shortest amount of time. Other junior associates and I used to keep ourselves tuned into staff meetings by playing discreet games of “Lingo Bingo” while fighting the urge to roll our eyes and laugh. “Synergies” and “leverage” were always a given, “EEPS,” “IOUs” and “RFPs” were usually safe-bet acronyms, but the utterance of the slightly more elusive boss-favorite, “there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” would always elicit a hushed “Yes!” from the lucky winner.

Communication became the essence of the work. It was our job to convey messages between those who refused to talk to each other, were skeptical of each other’s motives and/or were incapable of articulating that which needed to be articulated.

During my first visit to one of the agencies, I was shocked to see that our various human clients worked in dreary, rundown cubicles directly next to each other. The bosses’s offices sat immediately across the narrow walkway. Thinking of the countless times one of them had asked me over the phone to tell one of his or her colleagues something on his or her behalf, I gave my boss a curious look and he confirmed my observation: “Yes, they all sit right there.” The proximity was absurd. Of course, if our clients in one agency wouldn’t even talk to their own colleagues who occupied adjacent cubicles, I wondered just how willingly they collaborated with their counterparts at “the other agency.” That meeting gave me my answer: it was devoid of a single representative from the other agency. Apparently that was why we were there.

We were in the trenches, the field and the boardroom — aiding in the decision-making process and helping others work with the decisions that had been made. No one better understood the program’s strengths, weaknesses and best opportunities for improving those flaws. But all the talk and proposed ideas only begat more talk and points of contention. Our proposals would become our clients’ ideas, then fall into obscurity. It eventually became clear why, during my job interview, the vice president had asked whether I’d be comfortable never getting credit for my labors and informed me without blinking that this was often “painstaking” work.

The inefficacy and wheel-spinning that typified this side of the system was especially glaring when contrasted to our private-sector partners. One of them would have an idea, and by the next week’s call the company would have a new marketing platform and a green light, as opposed to an exploratory task force and string of cumbersome deliverables. It was impressive, and there was always the faint hint of envy on our side of the phone.

It didn’t take long to tire of being stifled, stymied and dismissed at every turn. Or to get discouraged by the growing trend toward politicians lauding energy efficiency but only boosting funding for “sexier” vote-getting initiatives. Or to lose faith that this bogged-down-in-bureaucracy program would ever bring about the kind of change needed to produce real results.

Watching my bosses fight the same battles over and over no matter how much experience, expertise and common sense they wielded, I decided there was no happy future for me in this type of government policy contracting. Wasn’t there a job where ideas actually went somewhere, talk translated into action and achievements were real, not a product of creative spin? Wasn’t there a job where what I did would actually make some sort of difference? I wasn’t ready to abandon naïve optimism just yet.

Time to re-think this first career move. If the agencies weren’t able to make change happen after all, who was? The only people our clients ever had to answer to (besides their own boss and the boss’s bosses’s bosses) were Members of Congress.

Hmmm. Capitol Hill. A great place for motivated idealists to find rewarding staff work. Maybe it was time to update the résumé and make some inquiries…

Annie Scott lives and works in San Diego, where she tries to make a difference every day.