The Weed Agency Read Online Free PDF Page B

sympathized.
    “I’ve now had my heart broken twice,” he said, glancing out the window. “First as a volunteer for Teens for McGovern when he lost, then by Carter when he won. I figure there’s a 50-50 shot I may lose my White House job next January. Campaign work means long hours, candidates that forget to pay you, and low pay even when they remember, sleeping on the couch in the office and watching your candidate blow it all by saying he’s undecided on whether kids should start the day by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. The Hill isn’t much better, and every two years your boss can get fired by fickle hicks who decide they like some smooth-talking local car salesman better—and that’s presuming he doesn’t get caught jumping into the Tidal Basin with a stripper.”
    Wilkins watched Humphrey’s face for any sign of disapproval, but he simply saw a serene smile staring back at him.
    “Plus, my girlfriend wants me to marry her, and I figure that means I need a steadier job. Regular hours, weekends off, less craziness, less stress.”
    Humphrey’s smile turned into a chuckle and he put his fingertips together. “Ah, the civilizing influence of women.” He picked up Wilkins’s resume.
    “Mr. Wilkins, your resume and references excited all of the right personnel people—such dedication to public service! Such a spirited drive to every task before you! But I saw a warning sign or two. I feared you might be some upstart, hell-bent on turning everything upside down in an impatient crusade to achieve your theoretical ideal overnight. As you no doubt saw at the White House, the wheels of government turn slowly. Deliberately. I envision great things for the future of this agency, but at a careful and measured pace! I prefer to consolidate our gains and carefully and methodically manage our steadygrowth and progress. Cabinet secretaries and agency directors come and go every few years. Comparably, we are eternal.”
    Wilkins smiled at the audacious boast.
    “If the young lady in your life desires you to be in steady work, we will fit that bill.”

    Wilkins settled in within a few weeks.
    Many of the mornings began with Wilkins keeping up with Humphrey’s deliberate stride through the labyrinthine halls of the Department of Agriculture.
    “We’re lucky to work in this building,” Humphrey said thoughtfully. “We’re the only federal department on the national mall. More tourists see us, by accident, than the Pentagon or the State Department or any other cabinet department.”
    “I feel like these hallways go on forever,” Wilkins said.
    The Department of Agriculture’s headquarters actually uses up two massive buildings, the Administrative Building on the north side of Independence Avenue and the South Building, connected with two arched pedestrian bridges. Employees rarely if ever use them. The South Building is seven stories and includes 4,500 rooms in a precise grid; only the departmental auditorium and library interrupt the dizzying pattern. With floors, hallways, and closed office doors all looking the same, Wilkins found himself getting turned around and lost with surprising frequency.
    “This was, until the Pentagon was completed, the largest office building in the world. Congress decreed that no building in the city could be taller than the Capitol—a rule, I suspect, designed to remind everyone where the power and the money was,” Humphrey explained. “Washington never had skyscrapers,and I suspect that shapes the way we work. Had the federal workforce been housed in giant towers, well … our office culture might have evolved like the ones of Wall Street banks or publishing houses. But instead of connecting our offices vertically we’re connected horizontally, and it creates a certain …”
    “Inefficiency?” Wilkins guessed, noticing that he was wearing through the soles of his dress shoes in the new job.
    “Geographic ambiguity.”
    They turned a corner. “As you know, we have a