“Eleven months ago a 1200 pound spacecraft blasted off from Cape Canaveral, Florida. Eighteen hours ago... it landed on the planet Mars. You, me, and 60,000 of your fellow students across the country along with astroscientists and engineers from the Jet Propulsion Lab in Southern California, NASA in Houston, and right here at the White House, are going to be the first to see what it sees, and to chronicle the extraordinary voyage of an unmanned ship called Galileo V.”
- Sam Seaborn, The West Wing (“Galileo”, Season 2, Episode 9)
NASA's Perseverance Rover landed on Mars just 24 hours ago, but you’d be hard pressed to notice it on the news. But it reminds me of the great Sam Seaborn quote above, which in turn reminds me of where I was in my life when that episode first aired.
I started in government in the fall of 2000. I had a one-year contract (which seemed to be an eternally long time; I assumed I would be eager to leave by its end). I had a steep learning curve in transitioning to “Public Servant”. Turns out that my previous jobs -- TV writer and director and producer; database programmer; and freelance web designer -- didn’t adequately prepare me to work in a 10,000 person government department. I felt lost in a sea of acronyms, hidden rules, and Byzantine org charts.
I’ll share the stories of my first few months there another time. But let’s just say, by the time Christmas rolled around, I was seriously looking for other options. I just didn’t understand how I was fitting into this huge puzzle around me. I was missing the challenge of being the associate producer of a TV show, making hundreds of decisions a week on our program, and writing and directing episodes that would be seen by tens of thousands of people.
On this particular snowy day, our extended team was about to have our holiday party at a steak house in Gatineau. Head over for two o’clock, and enjoy a late lunch before heading home. I had volunteered to drive one of my colleagues to the restaurant. She, like me, was new to government; she, like me, enjoyed watching The West Wing, then in its second season.
There was an excitement in the office as the crew started to file out. The first third of people headed over; then the next batch. I checked in on my boss, to make sure she was on her way over.
She had her winter boots on, but she was slumped in her chair, staring at her Blackberry, looking defeated. The Deputy Minister had sent out a holiday message to the department, about an hour before; now, our Assistant Deputy Minister also wanted a holiday message to send to the 900 people in his Branch. My boss was realizing that she would miss the party with her staff, as she would have to write the message. “Tell everyone I wish I was there,” she said to me.
My colleague appeared then, eager to hitch a ride to the restaurant. “(Manager) has to write a holiday message right now for the ADM,” I explained. My colleague nodded. “That’s too bad. Well, let’s go!”
I looked at my watch. T minus 30 minutes to the party, which was 20 minutes away. “How long will it take us to write the message?” I asked my manager. She shrugged. I think under other circumstances, this wouldn’t be a daunting task for her, but coming as she was literally packing up her stuff to go, it was a disappointing buzzkill that seemed insurmountable.
She sighed. “I’ll have to ask him what he wants in the message; then write the outline and have him approve it; then write the message, and have him approve that, then translate it...I’ll be here all afternoon.”
Now, this was one instance where my ignorance at processes, approvals, and timelines was going to be helpful. I couldn’t believe she would miss the big holiday party over an email. I shrugged all that off.
“I can have a draft for you in…. twelve minutes,” I told her. I was pretty sure I could have it ready in ten, but I had already turned off my computer.
My manager laughed. “That’s not how things work, John.” She sighed again. “You guys go ahead; I’ll do this.”
My mind was already racing, reaching for the words. “ ‘As we reach the end of this long year, it’s a time to rest and relax with our family and friends,’ ” I intoned. “ ‘But it’s also a time to reflect on the many successes we’ve shared, and to take pride in our achievements.’ ”
My manager’s eyes brightened. “That could work…”
My feet started heading towards my cubicle, the next words of the message already forming themselves in my mind. “Let me give it a shot. Just let me give a try.”
My colleague, who was expecting a drive from me, was less than impressed, “Who do you think you are, Sam Seaborn?”
That made everything click for me. “Yes! Right now, I am Sam Seaborn!”
At that time, every communications person I knew was at least a casual fan of The West Wing. Any show that could make heroes out of writers was a natural draw. And Rob Lowe’s Sam Seaborne was helplessly idealistic, a wordsmith without parallel, who could elevate the dreariest of messages with his soaring prose.
The classic Sam scene I quote above had aired just a month earlier. In the episode “Galileo,” he politely rips to shreds the speech for the President prepared by a NASA PR guy. On the spur of the moment, Sam dictates a message that is stirring, historic, and Presidential - on his first take. The President approves, and the mundane script is cast aside. That day, it was time for me to channel my inner Sam, and try to do the same.
At my desk, I called up the earlier holiday message from the Deputy Minister, to make sure this message would be different than theirs. I wrote the message, reading parts of it aloud as my colleague stood at my cubicle, offering suggestions. I tried to make a link between spending time with family and friends at the holidays, to the teamwork that’s present in successful projects. I finished it, and emailed it to my manager: 12 minutes exactly.
“Maybe you are Sam Seaborne,” my colleague said, in what may have been the compliment highlight of my career.
I ran down the hall to where my manager was already looking at the message. “This is good,” she said simply. “Sit down.” I sat; we edited the message together. I remember her highlighting a good two sentences of my text, and deleting it; I bit my tongue. But sure enough, what she replaced it with was even better than my words. In about eight minutes, we were done; a pretty strong product. We had our colleague read it over, and got a thumbs up. Twenty five minutes had passed since the first email requesting the message.
My manager sent the message off to the ADM. “Let us know what you think, and if you approve, we’ll send you the French version,” she wrote. She started translating the message into French right away.
“You guys should go to the party,” she directed. I had nothing to contribute to the French version, so off we went. With a shortcut or two, we got to the restaurant just as the first round of drinks was being served.
Sam Seaborn: Aaron Sorkin’s speech for the stars.
It was fun playing Sam Seaborn for a moment. But just as good was that feeling of sitting next to my manager, someone who would end up providing lots of advice during my first years in government, and earning that “trusted colleague” status. She knew then that I had her back, and I could deliver on short deadlines; watching her edit and improve the message, I realized that she also had ‘the skills to pay the bills,” as another manager of mine would say in the future. If I was Sam (for a mere moment), then she was Toby Ziegler, or CJ Cregg: not just talented, but trustworthy, and trusting. It was one of the first moments, after three months on the job, that I didn’t feel completely lost; that maybe I could be a useful member of the team. Maybe I had something to offer.
Our manager eventually arrived at the party, about 45 minutes later. I believe she bought me a drink. I remember it was a fun evening.
And for the next ten years, I was almost inevitably late to staff holiday parties, due to some last-minute random web post to complete, or video to upload. But for that moment, laughing and joking with colleagues after delivering a solid win, I felt like celebrating. It wasn’t landing a probe on Mars, but it was a success. Sometimes, perseverance is all we need..