by Jean Doss
November 1, 2008

Drive to the state’s second largest city under a pure blue sky backing the last of autumn’s trunk show, arrive ON TIME (!) for a meeting with a favorite client and an interesting state rep.-elect, and, since the meeting is at a Big Boy, consume lots of exceptional bacon and mediocre coffee.

Next (all from the driver’s seat of a 2001 Ford Focus), I imitate sincere participation in a conference call, skim through emails on the Blackberry, and return voicemails. Moving on, I convince my sister to play hooky from work and visit her favorite antique shop, buy a so-hideous-it’s-beautiful lamp, drop sister off, drop $165 at a high-end consignment shop, skim some more emails, then attend an evening benefit where none of the really interesting stories is told about a retiring client.

I return home to my old man (a 14 year-old yellow lab), an unopened and surprisingly good $6.99 bottle of Spanish red wine, and the latest New Yorker magazine in the mailbox.

There you have it — a day with most of the good things in life, and minimal contact with legislators.

I used to feel guilty about slacking off like this on a weekday, even more so after I started working for myself (“Yikes! What if I DO need supervision after all?!”).

But I’ve come to embrace slacker days as what keeps me from sliding into a permanent dystopian attitude towards Lansing politics.

And what makes me cynical and cranky?

• The disaster that IS term limits (really, what more can be written about this?)
• The divine right of money — to determine caucus leadership, agendas, and access (although money, interestingly enough, does NOT always trump in elections).
• The mistaking of anger for advocacy, social networking for organizing, and political cowardice for political savvy.

And the REAL antidote, besides the shadow comforts of retail therapy, alcohol, golf, and other slacker lobbyist activities? A combination of two things —

Respect:
Darrell Tennis, my political mentor, once observed that what distinguished a good lobbyist from a great lobbyist is respect for each legislator — if for no other reason than respecting the office to which he or she was elected.

Belief:
Lobbyists, as much as any consultant, sell an intangible “YES,” known in some circles as “bullshit.”
“Yes, you can do this.” (Just do what I tell you to do.)
“Yes, you can impact public policy.” (Uh, but what’s your timeline?)
“Yes, there are things that can beat big money.” (Just make sure you have enough money for my monthly retainer.)

Here’s the catch: I have to believe my own bullshit.

I think this is true for every lobbyist. Wherever we go for renewal (the golf course, the bar, or a shoe sale), we also retreat to a memory where we made a difference: an especially sweet “win” or a legislator who started as an adversary and became a true friend.

So, if you catch me sounding like a female version of Andy Rooney, tell me to quit whining, suck it up, go buy an ugly lamp, get a drink, laugh a little — but most of all, tell me to remember why I started doing this in the first place.

Bullshit.

Exactly.

Jean Doss, with 17 years experience as a multi-client lobbyist, founded J. Doss Consulting, LLC in 2005.