Why I left my political career
Earlier in the week, I talked about the surge in twenty-somethings’ political interest and discussed the things I gained from my career in politics. To recap, I spent two years doing grassroots organizing and fundraising and compliance consulting all over North Carolina through local organizations, 10 political committees, and 85 candidates.
It was a truly rewarding experience, but late last year, I decided to make a career shift and return to non-profit fundraising. Here are the challenges I faced that ultimately led to me leaving my political career:
Ageism. During my first week on the job, a workplace bully began attacking me and a few older activists yelled at my bosses for “hiring a kid.” I smoothed these issues over by standing up to the bully and by winning over the vocal critics through relationship building, but I still had to regularly confront subtle criticism about my age from older activists.
My bosses would sometimes throw me menial tasks — making copies, assembling notebooks, proofreading memos, entering data, moving furniture, and taking out the trash (yes, the trash) — because I was young. Luckily, it was only a small percentage of my work — most my cohorts were in completely clerical jobs — but it was still tough.
But the most annoying aspect of political ageism is when clients and candidates didn’t listen to me. I tried to consult a political organization through a much-needed reorganization of their governance and financial structures, but the organization’s leader dismissed my carefully researched advice because “that kid can’t possibly know what he’s talking about.” Two years after my recommendations were ignored, the organization is now facing a leadership crisis in which two people claim to be president, membership has plummeted, and their finances have been depleted due to frivolous spending. If only they had listened!
Rankism. I had to endure rude treatment from people who looked down on me because I wasn’t a senior staffer. Some political candidates who paid for and benefited from my consulting would not return my phone calls and would only speak to senior staffers, and a state-wide civil rights leader abruptly ended a phone conversation with me because he “doesn’t have time for peons.”
Lack of work/life balance. When I moved to fundraising and compliance consulting, my boss put 18-20 things on my project list to juggle at any given time, and I regularly pulled 12-15 hour days. My commute was 35 minutes each way, and I had to travel across the state many evenings to meet with clients. Add weekend events at least twice each month, and you have the perfect recipe for burnout. This is probably one of the most common complaints about political work.
Low pay. Most young political staffers don’t get paid much at all. I knew several twenty-somethings who worked full-time for less than $30,000 without any benefits. I fared significantly better in pay and benefits, but I still had trouble paying all of my bills while creating emergency savings. And it was laughable to even think of saving for retirement or investing.
“Loss of voice.” Taking a political job usually means the end of expressing one’s own opinion publicly. Blogs must be taken down, social networking pages have to be cleaned up significantly, and no staff can talk with the press unless authorized to give a statement. And anything you say publicly must go along with your bosses and clients’ stances.
I had to bite my tongue regularly and not say a word when things happened that I didn’t agree with from policy decisions to statements, from workplace issues to my bosses’ actions. Heck, I even had to work for candidates whose ideals and voting records made me cringe, but I couldn’t say a word about it.
And finally, I left politics because race matters. Black and latino political staffers are often confined to grassroots organizing and GOTV jobs throughout their careers, and the senior level jobs are almost always out of reach. There are only a handful of minority political executives, lobbyists, and fundraisers across the nation and only one national black pollster. There are even fewer black candidates who run competitive, party-supported campaigns in districts that aren’t majority minority as dictated by the Voting Rights Act.
The few minority political staffers have to walk a thin tight-rope similar to Barack Obama’s struggle with race. I felt racial discrimination from a handful of the more closed-minded people I encountered, and my bosses expected me to connect heavily with the black community and “be black” at work. At the same time, some black activists vocally questioned if I was authentically black because I didn’t graduate from a historically black college, I date a white woman, and I practice progressive politics.
Although I have been fighting it all of my life, I detest “black enough” racial politics and refuse to play those petulant games. I had to find a job in which my race is deemed completely unimportant to the quality of my work.
So yes, political work is challenging. I still stand behind the things I gained from this work. It has helped me tremendously and has given me the best gift I could have received — thick skin.
But when people ask me about my career in politics, there’s only one quote that can accurately describe how I feel: “I’m glad I did it, partly because I enjoyed it, but mostly because I’ll never have to do it again” (Mark Twain).
Balling on a Budget: Five reasons twenty-somethings should buy a home now
I’ll be starting a new category today called “Balling on a Budget,” which will present ways we twenty-somethings can maximize our money and save for the future while still living our fabulous lifestyles.
It’s time for a celebration! I am about six weeks away from my first anniversary as a homeowner. At the same time, my best friend Josh, who is 23, is preparing to close on his first home down in South Carolina. I encourage twenty-somethings in small to medium cities to take a hard look at buying a home. Here are some things that might convince you to buy:
Buying a home saves you money long-term. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had no parental support during or after college, so I’ve had to earn and save every dime to my name. Before I bought my townhome, I was splitting $1500 each month in rent with two college friends, which is pretty fair for our area.
My monthly payment including mortgage, taxes, insurance, and homeowners association dues ends up being half of my old rent. It’s a phenomenal savings, and I know that every payment I make adds to home equity. Instead of losing money each month to magically poof into the pockets of a developer, I’m paying myself. It’ll definitely pay off when I’m ready to sell.
There’s free money out there. National and state initiatives provide down-payment assistance to first-time home buyers who make less than the median income in their areas, which applies to most young non-profit professionals. The best part is that the process is pretty objective — if you qualify, you get the money — and few people take advantage of the programs.
Through programs with the City of Durham and the North Carolina Housing Finance Agency, I got about $45,000 in down payment help and my closing costs covered by public sources. I only had to put $750 down and attend classes for first-time home owners.
And the income requirement is based upon your income at the time of your loan application. If you get a raise or a better job after you’re in the house, nothing changes.
Check out the HUD website to find information on first-time homebuyer programs in your state. The site will lead you to the free money and tell you about free programs to counsel you out of bad credit or to walk you through the entire home-buying process.
The time is right (if you have a few years). It’s a buyer’s market, and we should take advantage of the housing bust’s falling interest rates and prices. There are opportunities for us to get great real estate at phenomenal prices. It will take a time investment, though, but not a long-term one.
Of course “long-term” is subjective, but many people erroneously think buying a house during the housing crisis locks you into a 30-year commitment. Don’t plan on buying a house and flipping it next year or the year after, but if you think you’ll be in an area for 3-5 years, it could be worth it to buy. Some folks disagree, but I definitely think the time is right.
Roommates can pad your budget and help you save. If you buy a house with multiple bedrooms, renting them out to other twenty-somethings or college students could give your budget just enough of a boost to save tremendously. Instead of paying a real estate developer for rent, you’re now the landlord.
And finally, buying a home gives you the opportunity to express yourself. I hated the fact that I couldn’t paint in apartment and dorm living. I mean, I could have, but I would have been forced to paint it back to the sterile white color or lose my security deposits. In my house, I’ve been able to paint almost every room and invest in art that reflects my personality and gives me pride.
But of course, buying a home isn’t right for everyone, and a first-time buyer should be prepared for some serious work ahead. Stay tuned for a post that discusses challenges twenty-somethings will have to face if they want to buy a home.
Four tips for twenty-somethings to navigate the generation gap at work
I ran across this Chronicle of Philanthropy article, which discusses generation gap challenges in the non-profit workplace. As someone who has been the youngest person in every organization I’ve worked with, I can fully understand the challenges of balancing that gap.
The article reminded me of In Good Company, a 2004 film in which Topher Grace plays Carter Duryea, a naive, know-it-all twenty-something who flails in a job managing people twice his age.
In Good Company is one of my favorite movies (well worth renting or buying), and if you pay attention to the things Carter did wrong, you can learn some great lessons on how twenty-somethings can effectively handle being the NKOTB (New Kid on the Block) and use it to advance one’s career:
Enter with humility. From day one, be respectful and mannerable to all employees, no matter their rank or age and go out of your way to be nice to people. I carve time out of my day to have a conversation with each of my coworkers, and everyone in the office hears my Southern “How yall doing?” spoken to everyone I pass in our building. This shatters the stereotype of the young know-it-all punk and sets the tone for open conversation and friendships.
Build relationships with the veterans. When I took my first political job, I befriended the woman whose office was next door. She was the longest-serving employee, having served at least 7 years more than both the CEO and CFO, and had the largest state-wide network of anyone there. She not only gave me great insight into the business, but she also became my mentor, giving me valuable career and personal advice, standing up for me when a bully attacked, and giving me references. Although I moved on from that job, she and I still keep in touch.
Seek institutional knowledge. Ask the people who have been at your organization for a while to give you context on the organization’s history and current problems. Not only will you better understand the issues facing the organization, you’ll almost always learn some lessons and potential pitfalls you wouldn’t otherwise see. Plus, it helps with relationship building.
Be helpful outside of your job responsibilities. You can easily win friends and influence your older coworkers by being of service to them. At one job, the staff was responsible for taking the trash outside to the curb three times a week, and I volunteered to lead trash duty each week. At my current job, one other coworker (who is 25 and really cool) and I have helped teach MS Excel and Publisher to veterans without much computer experience. It continues relationship building and developing an office brand of being helpful and a team player.
These tips have helped me navigate the generation gap in my career, and I hope it can help someone avoid making Carter Duryea’s mistakes.
Beware of workplace bullies, especially if you’re a twenty-something
An article and blog post in yesterday’s NY Times health section brought up a topic that hit close to home: workplace bullying.
Young professionals should be very aware of these workplace problems because our age and eagerness can make us easy targets, and 37 percent of American workers have reported being bullied. I incurred the wrath of a bully for seven months in a previous job, and it took an extreme emotional toll.
Although it was a difficult time for me, I think I handled the situation well, and I’ll offer some tips on dealing with a workplace bully through telling my story. I was hired to work for a large organization, and three other staffers and I were placed under the immediate supervision of a difficult person.
Recognize the early warning signs. On my first day, my supervisor criticized the CEO for hiring me because of my age – “I don’t know why they hired an over-glorified intern who doesn’t know anything,” she said – and made a highly racist remark about me and my family. I knew then that a long battle was ahead. Within the first month, the supervisor demanded total control of my schedule and workload and took credit for all of my work.
Document inappropriate behavior. When I first went to complain to the HR department, it was dismissed as a personality conflict, and as a young professional, I was told that I “had to learn to get along with different people and respect my supervisor.”
Simply put, they didn’t believe me because I was young, and I learned that I had to provide proof of the problem. I began to keep a special “crazy” journal – locked away in a hidden folder on my jump drive – that detailed line-crossing behavior by the bully. It grew to five single-spaced pages.
Stay cool. No matter what my bullying supervisor said, I stayed calm and refused to raise my voice. I would disagree and express my objection to personal and inappropriate attacks, but I almost always did it calmly, regardless of her bellicose nature. I knew that if I stooped to her level, I ran the risk of being protrayed as the young trouble-maker in the office, helping her plan.
Find mentors in the organization. As Penelope Trunk says, mentors are important. I began to reach out to the CEO, CFO and other senior staffers, asking them to get lunch with me periodically and give me advice on how to be successful in my job. I was never negative about the bullying supervisor, but I shared the progress on my projects and clients. They soon began to understand my workload and contribution to the organization, and we developed relationships and trust.
Stand up for yourself. The attacks from the bully continued. For a while, I internalized it all, taking a toll on my home life. That changed one day when the bully belligerently yelled at me in front of other staffers. It was a deeply personal tirade that included some racist words, fingers in my face, chasing me down a hallway, job threats, and the parting words “you sorry SOB.” The embarrassment of being berated in front of colleagues in such a manner was the last straw.
The next day, I filed a hostile work environment complaint, gave the CEO a copy of my “crazy” journal, and said that I was prepared to leave the organization if the inappropriate behavior continued. The CEO realized that it was a grave situation and the documentation made it real. My job structure was changed so that I reported directly to the CEO and the supervisor was put on probation. The documentation and mentoring paid off because I stood up for myself.
Find allies among your coworkers. I made a point of building relationship with my other coworkers, who defended me against the bully’s gossip and talked favorably about me to the senior staff. Finding allies also uncovered fellow victims. One of the other twenty-somethings who reported to the bully finally confessed that she was the victim of similar attacks.
Do a good job. I knew that professional failures would only give the bully substantive fodder to attack. Once the senior staff knew what I was working on and once I reported directly to the CEO, I began to excel in the job. In fact, one of my clients presented me with an award at their annual gala. Plus, I got a glowing performance review from the senior staff.
The bully didn’t fare as well. The mounting complaints and lack of performance gave the senior staff no choice but to fire her seven months after her start date.
Consider finding a better situation. I outlasted the bully and enjoyed a lot of success after steps were taken to alleviate the situation. However, things don’t change for all people. If you’re stuck in a similar situation and things don’t change after frequent tactics or complaints, you should definitely consider looking for a better opportunity.
There’s plenty of stuff on the net about workplace bullying that can be found by simply using Google, but be sure the check out this report from the State of Washington and another from Pepperdine University.
Why I moved to Raleigh-Durham instead of New York City
The past two weekends have been really fun for me. I spent the Easter holiday in Columbia, SC, where my best friend Josh lives. The weekend before, four of my friends from college and I had a reunion in Harker’s Island, a small coastal community on the NC coast where one of my buds lives.
Spending time with them on their turf helped me notice that my closest college friends made similar choices for finding a place to start our careers. We moved to small-to-medium cities after college.
Many people in our college cohort, including my girlfriend, had an innate desire to move to the big cities (namely LA, NYC, and DC). But when I had to make that big decision, I turned down a job offer in NYC to work in North Carolina’s Research Triangle (pop. 1.5M).
It’s been one of the best decisions I’ve made, and here’s why:
It’s allowed me to save money. During college, I spent a summer interning in NYC. I spent $1250 for half of a room near Columbia University, which only left me about $800 for living expenses from my non-profit intern stipend. Subtract a few nights out per week — to keep up with my investment banking and law roommates — and I was eating off of the dollar menu at fast food chains to make ends meet.
I didn’t want to be broke like that again, and I didn’t have any parental resources to rely on like many twenty-somethings. My NYC job offer paid only $2,000 more than my Triangle offer, but the cost of living was roughly $13,000 more expensive.
I chose the more affordable option. My rent during my first year out of college in the Triangle was $1500/mo (split among three guys), and with lower entertainment costs, I’ve been able to save an average of 15% of my income.
It’s allowed me to buy a house. The housing crisis has created a buyer’s market in the Triangle, and there are plenty of affordable housing options that don’t exist in the larger cities. I left the apartment life last June and bought a townhome in downtown Durham. My mortgage for a 3BR townhome is the same as my DC friends’ rent for half of a room, the tax benefits of home ownership are incredible, and I have an appreciable asset at an early age.
I won’t stay in this area forever — probably for only 3-4 more years — but when I leave, I’ll hopefully be able to get a great return from selling my house to support a move elsewhere.
There are also state and federal programs that reward young professionals to buy (more details on those in a later post).
It allowed me to have excellent work experience. I’ve been fortunate enough to work in smaller shops that have allowed me to get a lot of experience I wouldn’t have gotten in the big firm I would have worked for in NYC. In the small offices, I have served as a catch-all and have learned about things outside of my area of specialty. Also, because of the smaller flood of twenty-somethings, the demand for young non-profit professionals is high in the area as well, so finding a job is a bit easier.
Living in smaller city isn’t perfect, though. There’s a lot of entertainment here but nothing compared to the bigger cities, though, and I don’t have a large concentration of college friends in the area, like my DC and NYC folks. Having a long-distance relationship is tough, too. I’m on the road a lot to visit people, especially in DC, and I have to make the effort to meet new people in the Triangle.
However, moving to a small-to-medium city is something I’d recommend to twenty-somethings, especially those in the non-profit community or those who don’t have parental support and need to build financial stability. It’s worked well for me and my friends.
Check out Kiplinger’s Seven Cool Cities, which include Raleigh, as places to start building.
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