Bureaucrats

 ”This is a legislature that decided to add to its budget $38-milion to build a state office building for bureaucrats that I didn’t ask for.” 

     —–Governor Nixon  May, 2013

 We all know about bureaucrats, don’t we?  They’re those worthless loafers that feed at the public trough, take a lot of coffee breaks, stand outside the entrances to state buildings laying down a cloud of tobacco smoke that taxpayers have to walk through, and shuffle papers until 4:30 sharp when they walk away from whatever they’re doing until the next morning.  

 And now, to listen to Governor Nixon tell it, the legislature wants to spend $38 million dollars for ANOTHER office building where bureaucrats can disappear into their cubicle farms each morning.  And why do these legislators want to build another state office building?   Because THEY want more space.  These people who visit Jefferson City for three-and-a-half days a week four and-a-a-half months of the year want more room.

 They have coveted the Highway and Transportation Department building half a block from the Capitol for years. The new building would open MODOT’s current headquarters for uses the legislature would determine. Plus the are rooting for the state to lease the top two floors of the Federal Building (most of us know it as the post office building across the street from the Capitol) now that the federal government has erected a big new federal courts building next to the old, vacant state pen.  These lawmakers want to fill up those two floors too, renting space at a time when they propose building a big new building that will curtail rent payments to other landlords.     

 No, Governor Nixon didn’t ask for a new building to house bureaucrats. But the state has bureaucrats scattered all over the place in Jefferson City.  And those who dream of that new building that would house the main office of MODOT and maybe some other agencies say the state will save enough in rents to make the new building cost-neutral in seven to ten years while providing the legislature with more office space that will be needed when the double-decker offices for state representatives can be eliminated—and it’s well past time they were eliminated. They’re not accessible for disabled people. And they put a structural strain on the building. 

 Framed copies of the original blueprints of the Capitol are on walls in the building’s basement, nearing hearing rooms, offices, and the cafeteria.  A look at them tells us much about government before World War I and say something about the growth of Missouri government.

 The blueprints for the ground floor show a lot of unassigned office space buyt they also show space for the Bureau of Labor Statistics, a dining room, the Insurance Department , the State Banking Department, The state mining office and the Fish and Game Department.  The Public Utilities Commission and the Library Commission also were on that floor.  The space where the Missourinet has its Capitol office and studio was designed as a storage room for the Department of Insurance.  The second floor was offices for state elected officials.  The third floor was for athe legislature.  The Adjutant General was on the fourth floor along with the Board of Health, the Board of Pharmacy, the Hotel Inspector, and the state Building and Loan regulators.  Office space was not really assigned, though, until the building could be occupied in 1917.  

 The same architect who designed the Capitol designed the Highway Department building in the 1920s—cars and highways had become such a big deal by then that the department needed more space.  Several years later an addition was put on the building.

 Other parts of  state government grew and in the 1930s, the Broadway Office Building was opened.  But government grew some more and in the 1950s, the Jefferson Office Building was constgructed.  But government grew and in the 1970s, the Truman Office Building went up.  

 But government grew and the number of state office buildings increased throughout Jefferson City. And the bureaucrats multiplied to fill the new spaces as they were created.  In the last few years of economic downturn, thousands cubicles have gone dark; bureaucrats have been fired or have retired before the axe could fall.   But despite all of that, the legislature wants to “build an office building for bureaucrats.”  And the legislature isn’t just messing with one building. It’s eyeing three.  

 Before we continue, however, let’s set the record a little straight about that faceless mass of people we disparagingly call “bureaucrats.”  Some truth in advertising first, though.  This reporter is married to a retired bureaucrat.  He lives in a neighborhood of retired, or still active, bureaucrats.  Cigarette smoking, coffee sucking, time-killing freeloaders?   Not on your life. 

 The people who are disparagingly called “bureaucrats” work as hard as the people in the office of any profit-making company.  They share the same commitments to service–and, yes, some share the same lack of commitment for anything other than the next paycheck that workers in for-profit companies have.  The scorned bureaucrat is the person who answers the child hotline call, who tests the water in your city’s well to see if it’s full of contaminants, who designs the new bridge your school buses will cross, who chase down non-supportive spouses, who check on the conditions in dog kennels and nursing homes—all of the things we expect state government to do for us  or to keep from behing done to us. And they deserve working conditions as good as those us us in the private sector have.  Like it or not, we need them because they’re the real people who perform the duties of government that somebody wants government to do.   

 And most of them deserve to be thought of better than “bureaucrats” who will populate a building that Governor Nixon didn’t ask for.  

 All of this is a long way around to a couple of points—with a diversion to defend state employees (a more respectul description than “bureaucrat”–that this entry wants to make.

 1.  A Republican-dominated legislature that spends huge amounts of time and words bemoaning big government and proclaiming how it wants to shrink state government wants to expand government in Jefferson City by three buildings. The fact that it wants to do so–to a large degree–to improve its own working conditions is noted.

 2.    The first Governor this reporter interviewed was John Dalton  An Official State Manual shows Dalton had fifteen people on his staff.  The 2009-2010 state manual showed Governor Nixon with 34.  The most recent one showed 27.  The budget that Governor Nixon proposed in January listed 38.28 full-time equivalent employees in Fiscal Year 2012.  For this fiscal year, and for the one that starts July first, he asked for an even thirty, double the gubernatorial bureaucracy that John Dalton had. 

 The people in his office are staff.  The people who would work in the new state office building would be bureaucrats.    I’m sure I saw some of each uptown during a recent weekday noon hour stroll.  I tried to identify which was which.  I failed.  They all looked the same to me.  I was unable to determine which ones might move into a $38 million dollar new building and which ones might move into an 85-year old former (someday) highways building and which ones would stay right where they are in the governor’s office complex.  

 Bureaucrats is bureaucrats.  And all of us should respect the person in the cubicle deep in the heart of the Truman Building as much as we respect the sharply-dressed people who go in and out of the door marked “Governor.”  Come to think of it, he’s just a bureaucrat too, isn’t he?

 Pots and kettles are the same color at my house.

Getting the job

Suppose you apply for a big job.  A very important job.  . 

You get your resume together. You make yourself sound indispensable to the new employer.  You file an application and several days later the company HR director calls you in for a talk.  You  are not surprised to learn you’re not the only applicant. The competition is going to be pretty stiff. But you go in and meet the HR person who thinks you’re worth a talk with one of the office managers of this big company.  The HR person warns you this person is kind of tough so you ask some friends to speak up on your behalf. They and you are persuasive enough that the office manager sets up a meeting with the Division Director.  But the office manager tells you to lose the sport coat, get a suit and a new tie, and shine your shoes.  The competition gets tougher the higher you go and you want to make sure you stand out enough to be memorable to the Division Director.   

The Division Director takes a good look at you, listens to you state your case, and confers with assistants who have watched the interview. The group likes you but suggests a few tweaks you can make in your presentation and your personal appearance.  Maybe they suggest a few additional details would help your resume in your next step. 

By now the company’s date for filling this job is getting closer and you are one of a few surviving candidates.  The Vice-President of the company is going to meet with all of the finalists and will recommend one to the company President and CEO.  To increase the pressure on the finalists, each of them is interviewed as the others watch. The VP has to catch a plane so every extra minute the other candidates take making themselves more impressive means you have less time before the VP leaves to catch the plane.  Five minutes before she has to grab her briefcase and bolt out the door, she turns to you.  You have only five minutes to sum up everything that justifies your application and your abilities.  Five minutes to prove you deserve to be the one who walks into the office of the President and stands at his desk as the newest important employee of the company.      

Today is that five minutes for the Missouri legislature.

Today is the last chance for hundreds of bills to make a good enough impression to be sent to the the Governor’s desk, potentially as the newest important laws for Missouri.  It’s the last five minutes of the long process and all of the company VPs go out the door at 6 p.m.

That being said—(revised)

As the 1997 legislative session turned toward its last couple of weeks, some of us at the Senate press table began to talk about some things we had been hearing for the previous four months that had reached the point of irritation.  Our lawmakers, as we ourselves sometimes do, get into slovenly habits with the English language and they begin to speak with crutches.   So we started listing words or phrases that we had heard  time after time, day after day, from people who seemed to lack the kind of verbal adroitness that we think our public figures should have.  I retired to our studio in the press room complex and wrote this:

A COMPENDIUM OF LEGISLATIVE CLICHES

Or

Throwing out a box of slippery apples that ain’t broke

After sliding down a slippery slope in Pandora’s box with a can of worms, having thrown the baby out with the bath water while comparing apples to oranges, we arrived at a train wreck on a level playing field, our nose under the tent flap and our foot in the door, and told the emergency medical technician examining our leg, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Bob Priddy

Missouri Senate

April 29, 1997

We dug out that compendium the other day because we decided to compare the legislative clichés of 16 years ago with those that we have heard again and again this year.   We were struck by how different the clichés of the late 1990s were. In fact, we haven’t heard some of these used this year, certainly not often enough to reach the point of irritation that they did then.  We are older now.  Perhaps they were spoken while we were dozing.

After we first published this list late last night or early this morning (we thank the Majority Night Owl for the Missouri Senate) a friend suggested some additions that will make the collection more complete.  We have chosen the best ones and added them for the sake of history and for those who will be sixteen years from now students of legislative clichés.

A COMPENDIUM OF LEGISLATIVE CLICHES, 2013

Or

The Reality is I have heartburn

At the end of the day, this is a simple bill, a solution looking for a problem, with a belt and suspenders amendment to the physical note that avoids picking winners and losers while we kick the can down the road. That said, the truth is, it is an effort to incent more discussions offline in which I can entertain your questions about another tool in the toobox. It might cause some heartburn; I get that. I sincerely believe we can get it to the finish line, or perhaps, across the goal line but I don’t want to belabor your bill.

Wonder what phrases will be fingernails on a blackboard in 2029.