Winning the Internet Can Be Depressing
If only I could drunk dial my Dad.
My first paid job in politics was stuffing invites to Democratic Fundraisers into envelopes at the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, known affectionately by politicos as the “D-trip.” My day would consist of stuffing envelopes, calling people to see if they would come to an event, and fetching snacks and various forms of caffeine for members of Congress. Sometimes, the Representative would thank me or even carry on a conversation with me. A couple of times I even washed hands next to then Democratic Leader Dick Gephardt. Being 20 and a political junkie, this made me think I was pretty cool. Who did I often brag about this to? My Dad. I would call him up, using a long distance code we would use for making fundraising calls and tell him about my day while stuffing envelopes full of invites and RSVP cards. It was both a way to pass the time, but also my way of seeking approval from my Dad who had taken out many loans to help me pay for college.
Fast-forward about 14 years to October 10, 2013, where all of a sudden I was reading that my company had won the Internet. Some said we won the day, others said we won the week. Either way it was an exciting moment. DrunkDialCongress.org was an idea I brought up to our team that would have never happened if it weren’t for our very talented employees. It was inspired by reading about members of Congress supposedly drinking as the shutdown neared, then seeing the effects of the shutdown on friends, and finally reading about Rep. Yoho lying about working to avert the shutdown over the phone to a constituent.
Our original idea was to tell everyone that it was dialing members of Congress at random, but really have our calling technology only connect users with House Republicans. We decided, at the last minute, to abandon the original idea and target all members of the House of Representatives. We felt that targeting both would increase the chance of Republicans embracing the idea. We never expected the response it received. Despite some decrying our ineffectiveness of targeting junior staff and interns with drunk dials (more like voicemail systems), there was a huge amount of positive feedback. We had half a million unique visitors to our site in less than 48 hours, and at its peak a rate of 10,000 phone calls an hour. A feeling that should put someone on cloud nine.
The day we launched the site it turned out only I would be available to talk to the press, which is what I did most of the day. That and work with our team to keep servers running under a huge spike of traffic. It was one of those days where you aren’t hungry from skipping lunch, because adrenaline courses through your body. After running on fumes all day, I made it through a number of interviews unscathed. Well, there was one interview that I was a little loopy in…but for the most part I survived the day. I cracked open a beer and started to catch up on my day. I should have been happy, but I was immediately filled with a sense of despair. I wasn’t going to be able to call my Dad to tell him about my day.
My Dad, whether he knew it or not, taught me so many life lessons. Most of his lessons were made by example. Tantamount to them all — your job can and should be fun. That isn’t to say he loved all his jobs as I grew up. He was a salesman. A great one. Sometimes he would be stuck selling a shitty product, sometimes he was doing something he believed in. I would listen to him on the phone, and many times in person, with prospective customers. His laugh was infectious, and he always made sure his customer enjoyed the sales experience. From my perspective, people enjoyed being sold things by my Dad. One time when my parents were going through a tough time financially, Dad got a job selling cars on a lot. I don’t remember him being as miserable at any other job. The grime that comes standard when working at a car dealership was not something that he enjoyed. Of course, that was another important lesson to me. If you aren’t happy, then find something better. He went on to work as a Mortgage Broker, helping people buy homes and lower their mortgage payments by refinancing. This was before the real-estate bubble burst and is a period of my life that I will remember my Dad loving his job.
I feel guilty even complaining about this. My Dad died in my 30s. He got to meet two grandchildren who were almost 3 and 1 when he passed away. Many have dealt with much worse than that. But this has been hanging over me for many days now and I can’t shake it. I just can’t get over the fact that I can’t call my Dad and I thought writing it down would help. My last words to him still haunt me.
He needed a new heart valve. For weeks we all stressed out over the surgery. I took off from work for a week to go down to North Carolina with my wife and kids so we could spend some time with him before the surgery. His 67th Birthday was two days after he was to have the heart valve replacement done. On March 14, I woke up with my Mom and Dad at about 5am to drive to the hospital. My Dad drove to the hospital with the windows down. It was a muggy morning for March. We listened to my Dad’s favorite band, the Grateful Dead, on the radio. We were all filled with an apprehensive silence. There were a couple of scares in the hospital, but on March 20 my Dad was discharged. I had left the day before to drive back to DC as his doctors said he was doing great and my Dad was adamant that I not miss any more work. He called me that evening to say he had made it home. I answered the phone, told him that was great news, and asked if I could call back as I was in a meeting at the time. That was the last time I heard his voice. The next morning my wife called me at work to tell me my Dad had died while eating breakfast shortly after I made it to the office. I had forgotten to call him back.
Sometimes, I imagine being able to tell him. Maybe he would have seen an article about it before I got a chance to tell him. He would have called me excitedly to tell me that he, while enjoying a drink of his own, just went to drunkdialcongress.org. I bet he would have gotten the weird error message that some people hear when a member’s voicemail is full. Or had a long, detailed conversation with the staffer who answered the phone making sure to transcribe it for me over email. I’m sure he would have ‘liked’ some of the things I was sharing on Facebook about it.
There isn’t really a good way to end this story. I guess that I hope it serves as a warning to not put work ahead of your family too much. I do work a lot, but I don’t think I am as bad as others. Maybe I hope he can read the words that I type? If so, I want him to know what an inspiration he continues to be to me. That he drives me to enjoy my work and my life. And that I think about him all the time.
