After a quick lunch at Subway we stopped at the office to clean up after Camp Day. I smelled like coffee and sparkled with donut dust. Dot welcomed me with an extra firm bone-crushing hug. She smelled like brandy. After the chaos of Camp Day I was jealous.
“Mr. Candidate. I was very proud of you this morning!” said Dot with enthusiasm.
“Proud? For what Dot? I didn’t do anything,” I replied puzzled.
“You sure did. That bastard is intimidating as hell and you held your own,” she replied.
“Not really Dot. I didn’t get a chance to say a word during the announcement and the canvassing wasn’t much better. As for Camp Day, don’t get me started. Words can’t describe that shit show.”
“Really? Hey, you showed up. Sometimes that is the hardest part. In my books, you are still number one!” she shouted.
“Thanks Dot. I appreciate your support,” I said with a smile.
“Was Camp Day really that bad?” she asked.
“Unbelievable. It was the hardest hour I have ever worked in my life. I have no idea how they do it each and every day. I get why we have welfare. Most of us aren’t capable of working at Tim Horton’s. I wouldn’t last a four-hour shift in the place. Thank God I stayed in school!” I replied.
“Story of your generation. All of you are butter cups,” added Dot with her usual gravel road laughter.
“Thanks Dot. You are a sweet heart. That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day,” I said with a bigger smile.
“No problem, Mr. Candidate. What can I get you for lunch? We can’t have your fragile constitution collapsing this close to the line,” she replied.
“How about an extra lean turkey breast sandwich on twelve-grain? Can you cut the crusts off too?”
“Sure thing. Whatever you want sweet pea. Should I call Tim’s? Or have you had enough of the place?” she asked.
“Why not? Just don’t tell them the sandwich is for me. They may poison it so I won’t show up next year,” I replied.
“One anonymously ordered turkey sandwich coming up,” said Dot.
“Good luck pretending to be someone else. Your voice is unique in Dartmouth. You have as much luck hiding it as Jordan Peterson on a right wing pod cast. Poison sandwich to go!”
“Don’t worry, you may not get a chance to eat it. Al said he wanted to see you as soon as you got in. You better get moving. Chop, Chop!” said Dot.
“Is he pissed off?” I asked.
Dot gave me her trademark look of distain, the one with her head tilted toward me while her eyes looked over her glasses.
“He is always pissed off. Why should today be any different? Now, get your candy ass in there.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I made the short walk to Al’s office. The door was open and he sat in a new over-sized, over-engineered chair. This furniture looked failproof. It was large enough for a lion to nap in . Al was busy. He had a pen in his hand that looked like a toothpick.
“Hey boss, Dot said you wanted to see me?” I asked.
“Yes. Come in. Have a seat,” he replied.
I took a chair and waited for what was next. I surveyed his massive body in the new furniture. Thankfully, there were no signs of structural strain. This well-built chair was double wide and appeared reinforced with aircraft grade materials. I had no idea there was a market for such big office chairs. If I sat in it I would look like a child waiting for Santa.
‘What’s up?” I asked.
“Just touching base bud. How did today go?” he asked with a glimmer of warmth.
“Oh, the usual morning of politicking Al. I spent the day with a maniacal control freak who treated me like his bitch. If this keeps up people are going to have to get in line to treat me that way,” I said.
“I heard it went well. To be clear, you are his bitch. Don’t forget that. The leader and his crew will always be at the front of the line when it comes to you.”
“Of course, I am his bitch. I just like to believe I have some say in this campaign,” I said.
“So, what do you think about the policy announcement?”
“To be honest Al, that piece of shit pissed me off. Interesting choice for Dartmouth, don’t you think? I didn’t realize we are the crime capital of Canada. It is a shameless attempt to appeal to people’s basest fears. Stats on crime don’t support it. The way he talked today you would think we are sitting in Chicago’s inner city. It’s bullshit Al. Do you feel unsafe here?”
As soon as I asked the question I realized how stupid it was. Al felt safe everywhere, including Chicago.
“Look Troy, it is all perception. You have been around long enough to know that. The national polling shows crime as the number one issue and our local polling confirms it. With the stakes high in this race, the gloves are off,” he said.
“Seriously? With all the real issues like: the environment, the tanking economy, and our shambles health care, people really think crime is the number one issue?”
“Yes. Put a few handguns on the streets and people get scared. The press has been busy with gun stories and social media has stoked the fire. It is the same old story… if it bleeds, it leads,” he replied.
“A few punk, dirt-bags have everyone hiding in their houses?”
“The same,” he replied.
“Those shitheads couldn’t hit water if they were shooting from the beach!”
“That is the problem Colin… The latest shoot up in front of the Children’s Hospital has got people rattled. These stupid fucks can’t seem to hit each other but they keep picking busy public spots like hospitals to have their gun battles. It is only a matter of time before some bystander gets killed. Christ, what is wrong with people today? There used to be a time when criminals had some respect for social order. Can you imagine the Hells Angels or Tony Soprano taking a shot at some douche bag in front of a children’s hospital?”
“Of course not, Tony had respect for family. On top of that, he would want to kill the bastard with his bare hands,” I responded.
“Exactly. There wouldn’t be stray shots breaking windows in every house in the neighbourhood,” added Al.
“Tony knew how to take care of business. Rest in peace.”
“Absolutely, not like these teenaged wannabe gangster shit heels who are too lazy to learn how to use a gun and too stupid to know where to use it!” added Al.
There was a moment of silence before we shifted back to a clearer connection to the reality of running an election campaign and not about traditional gangster morality as interpreted by popular television dramas.
“Okay. With crime the big issue, what does head office want us to do? I asked Al.
The big man fumbled through papers on his desk until he found what he needed. He picked up a high gloss Conservative blue card. It was big and bold. I saw my headshot on the card. He tossed it to me. My picture was on one side and on the other was the Liberal candidate. He was not a bad looking guy, but this photo made him appear weird and disfigured. It was like his head had been hit with a shovel. Underneath the picture was the caption, in bold tabloid style, ‘Liberal MP MacDonald supports bill to keep prostitutes and gangster pimps on street’.
“Jesus Christ Al, who came up with this?” I asked.
“Our friends from National.”
“Wow, this has got to be a joke.”
“What do you think? Are you okay with it?” he asked
“Really? You have to ask me that question? Okay, I will tell you what I think. I think it is a piece of shit! Where in the hell did they get that photo? Wow, they make MacDonald look like Charles Manson after someone drove over his head! Fuck Al, what are we supposed to do with this?”
“National says it will launch tomorrow and you will start sharing it today,” replied Al.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, bud, I am not. This is the plan.”
“Why the negative shift? You know it’s not me. How the hell am I going to sell this piece of crap?”
“Why? Because we are so close to winning. National thinks going negative will close the gap and put us out front. Real or not, the crime issue is hot right now. People are on edge. Don’t forget the shooting three weeks ago at Woodlawn mall at three o’clock in the afternoon. Kids were walking home from school for Christ’s sake! People want to feel safe again. I have to agree with them on this one kid. This is an issue where we can make the Liberals look soft,” he explained.
“What about me?” I asked.
“You don’t have to like it. I don’t like it much either. All of your friends here know it’s not your style. As far as I am concerned, you don’t have to try and sell it if you don’t want to. If people want to talk about it just say the Liberal record speaks for itself and move on. Tell the press that too if you feel so strongly about it.”
“But Al, prostitution? Couldn’t they have stuck to gun crimes, break and enters, teenaged swarming, vehicular homicide, child pornography or some other scourge of society that I can at least get on side with?”
“Prostitution was the only thing they could get MacDonald on the record with. Head office did an extensive Hansard search. Trust me, if there was anything else out there they would have found it. The opposition research is the most rigorous I have ever seen. These people are very thorough. Just be happy they are working for us and not the Liberals,” explained Al.
“No fucking kidding. I can only imagine what they would do to me,” I replied.
I took a deep breath and stared at Al. The urge to run out the door and forget this whole mess returned. Negative campaigns weren’t my style. I wanted people to support me because I had inspired them. I didn’t want to be elected because we had hacked someone else at the knees. I had a strong sense that if we went down this road there would be no coming back. I took a deep breath and continued.
“Al, I can’t do it.”
“You don’t have to do anything Troy,” he replied calmly.
“That is easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who has to go door to door handing out this shit,” I snapped.
“Trust me, I have your back on this one. We will do the heavy lifting. I will get Todd to put together talking points we can use for cover. As for you, just keep doing what you are doing. As far as I am concerned you don’t have to change a thing,” he said.
This really had become a runaway band wagon. Even Al was on board with national’s plan to take the gloves off.
“You really think it will work?” I asked.
The big man stared at me for several moments.
“Yes. Times are changing and I think we need to recognize that,” he said.
“Fuck me. Sounds like it is a go then. Tell me Al, you didn’t bring me in here to get my permission on this move, did you?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t. In addition to the card drop, we are running ads in the two weeklies and firing a blitz of targeted social media ads. There is also a radio spot in production. It will be ready tonight,” he replied.
“Wow, what happened to team work Al? Shouldn’t I get to have a say? My name is all over this stuff!” I snapped.
“Look, I get it. I would feel the same way. What did you think was going to happen? That it was going to be all about how great a guy you are? People want to know you are able to ask the tough questions and deal with the shit that keeps people awake at night. Nice guys may thrive in your business but in politics you need to be a pit bull.”
“Tough is one thing but going after the guy for doing something right isn’t fair,” I countered.
“Fair? Come on kid, who ever said politics was fair? You don’t have to agree with everything but we are all in now. This race is too close to call so let’s pull out all the stops and see what happens. If we win, you can do more to change things than you can sitting at home screaming at your television as the country swirls down the toilet,” he said.
I took a deep breath and held it. Election Day was in seven days. This train had left the station. My options were few. I could quit or publicly apologize for the negative marketing campaign. Both choices would mean defeat. I felt like a self-important bit character in a Tolstoy novel. I had little choice but to gut it out to the end. With a sense of resignation, I calmed down.
“Okay Al. Let’s see where this goes,” I said.
I saw him smile for the first time in the campaign.
“Thanks Mr. Candidate. The job is much easier if you are on side,” he replied.
“I am your man,” I said.
“Excellent. The entire riding will be covered in forty-eight hours. You don’t have to deliver any yourself. You stay focused on Saturday’s debate preparation. You continue what you are doing. Don’t change a thing. Just buckle up.”
“Whatever you say. The show must go on… There is one more thing Al, if I may?”
“Shoot,” he asked.
“Can I still have my hooker friends in the office for coffee and muffins?” I asked.
“Sure, your friends are always welcome here. If they will still talk to you,” he replied.
Troy Myers 