A few days later, we were back at the campaign office. The late spring sun was going down. It had been a good day. People had started to recognize me and were now eager to talk when we knocked on their doors or passed them on the street. The campaign momentum was building. Also, contrary to Clives’ risk assessment, no one had tried to shoot me yet.
The campaign team had gathered to discuss the leader’s visit, the debate, and the micro targeted plans. I had calmed down since my last meeting with the group. The long days of door knocking had tempered my apprehension of head office’s attempt to control us. Spending time with Frank made me see things differently. The Conservative leader may be a dinosaur who hates gays and wants women in the kitchen, but if we are going to have a big tent philosophy we need to make room for everybody, including the leader.
Kathleen started the meeting with Al by her side. It hadn’t taken long for the team to default to her leadership and everyone appeared comfortable with this power shift including Al.
“Okay people. Let’s get started. It’s been a long day and we have a busy one tomorrow so let’s skip the daily updates and get down to the business of the leader’s visit,” said Kathleen. She sounded very alert and coherent for someone who had been working sixteen-hour days for three weeks.
She had a stack of paper which she handed to Al. He took the documents, kept one for himself, and passed the rest on to Dale. With the documents circulated, Kathleen began her briefing. We were back to business as usual.
“As we are all aware, we will have the leader in town for four hours tomorrow. The National Campaign has allocated the best part of the day to us and our intention is to make the most of it. In the documents circulated, you will find the draft schedule for the leader’s visit. Does everyone have a copy?” said Kathleen.
Everyone nodded. There was a rare two minutes of silence while we read together.
8:30 am Arrival at Campaign HQ
8:50 am Greet Campaign Staff
9:00 am Speech and Policy Announcement
9:15 am Press Conference
9:30 am Canvassing
11:15 am Tim Hortons Camp Day
12:30 pm Depart
Kathleen walked us through the schedule and asked if we had any questions.
”Tim Horton’s Camp Day? Are we supposed to go in drag?” I asked.
Everyone enjoyed my attempt at humour except Kathleen. She stared sternly at me like an angry elementary school teacher. Mission accomplished.
“Any real questions?” she replied.
With everyone back in line, I didn’t get the group encouragement I needed to push my luck further. Silence, her preferred response to the request for questions, ruled.
“Okay, if there are no further questions, let’s move on to any outstanding issues for the debate so the candidate can go home and get a good night’s sleep,” continued Kathleen.
Clive went over his updated security protocols since the bullet proof vest idea was off the table. In response to my reckless disregard for his plan, they doubled the number of security personnel. There would be a robust visible security presence, as well as a few highly trained undercover professionals positioned at high traffic areas in the audience.
He also had metal detectors installed at the entrance. All bags would be searched. I was surprised there was no push back from the group. This underscored how infringements on people’s privacy had become common place at most public events. It wasn’t that long ago we would only see metal detectors at airports. Now, they were everywhere.
It was obvious Kathleen wanted Clive to wrap up. He picked up the pace and finished. He was confident everything would be fine. Since I had been walking the mean streets of Dartmouth and Cole Harbour for weeks with only a homeless guy, I agreed. Everything would be fine.
Kathleen thanked Clive and looked at me. She told me it would be better if I went home to get some rest. The team could handle the details of the micro targeted campaign without wasting my time. She didn’t have to sell me on the idea. I was on my way out before she finished speaking.
“We will see you in the morning. Oh, and Troy, please dress appropriately tomorrow,” said Kathleen.
Kathleen’s fashion advice was the last thing I wanted to hear. I was gone before she could tell me what shoes to wear. At this point in the campaign, you would think she would let the urban gay guy pick an outfit for a school auditorium. For a moment, I considered dressing like I was dancing in the Pride Parade.
If only I wasn’t so conservative.
Troy Myers 