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Work-Related
Violet
Sometimes I look around this place and I just can't believe it.
You'd think that would have passed, wouldn't you? As time goes by, any job can start to wear on your nerves. You'd think the spell of this place would have worn off by now, especially when you spend every day here with your eyes open. Well, it hasn't.
Of course, there are days when things get lousy. There are days when I'm ready to swear and shout and start breaking things. Usually those are the days when I've been working for thirty or forty straight hours. Sleep usually helps, and I come back in the morning remembering why I love what I do. The spell doesn't break.
If it did, all you have to do is walk down the hall. Take a look at some of the things hanging on walls around here, or go outside and see the building from a distance. The place is designed to stir up your patriotic spirit. Really, all it takes is spending a couple minutes looking at an American flag or a Presidential seal, and there's no shortage of those things around here. If you're ever in danger of burnout, that'll put you right.
And when I don't have time to do that, I watch these people, and that gets me by.
Here's an example. Toby Ziegler just walked by. Now, he's one interesting son of a bitch. I've heard him go around and around, one argument after another. He doesn't always win, but he never lets anyone get away without seriously considering his opinion. More often than not, he'll convince them that he's right. I never realized it was possible to have such obviously high ideals, and such a firm grip on ugly reality at the same time. And it doesn't help that he's the type where you're never sure when he's going to yell his head off about something, and when he just doesn't give a damn. It's no wonder he frustrates the hell out of everyone within a ten-yard radius. He's a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an attitude problem. The guy can write, though. You have to give him that.
Everybody here is that way. Whoever they are, whatever they're like as people, it's always amazing to see them at work.
Sam Seaborn's just a kid, you know? Practically just a kid. He's got "preppy law-school brat" written all over his face. He looks like a textbook example of a Beltway insider, playing the game and making the deal. But he turns around and fights for things you weren't expecting. He'll be the one walking down the hallway on a tear about privacy rights, or finding more money to spend on education, or whatever's caught his attention. He's still a kid, it's true. But he's a smart one who works hard, and actually believes in things beyond his own wallet. Where do they find these people?
Oh, yeah. Princeton. Heh.
Leo McGarry's an incredible mind. Men like him were the ones who planned the American Revolution. You get the impression that there's not a lot he doesn't know how to handle. He's been a major player in politics since Seaborn was in Little League. He knows the ropes better than anyone, knows how the game works, but he always seems to be able to see beyond that. He never forgets how much is really at stake, what he's working for. He's been pushed to the edge in more ways than one over the course of his life, and he's always managed to make it back. It's good to know there's a man like that helping to run this country -- not to mention keeping the staff together. I don't want to imagine what it'd be like without him around.
Then you have Josh Lyman. You have to wonder. Through no fault of his own, the guy gets shot; it's not in his job description. Most people would do some hard thinking right then about their career choices. You know, everyone would have understood if he wanted to take time out. But this guy gets up and comes back to work as soon as that assistant of his lets him out of the house. He wanted to be here. And of course he's been a little messed up; you can't blame him, although he came very close to mouthing his way into some serious trouble. Very close. But he seems to be straightening that out now. The point is, more than anything else, he still wants to be here, doing his job. People might take that for granted, but it's damned impressive when you think about it.
One of the lousiest jobs you could dream up in the world is C.J. Cregg's. She's responsible for covering everyone's back around here. I know what that's like, in a way, and I don't envy her. If you think about it, there isn't a lot that's less pleasant. That woman makes these people look good when they screw up and strong when they give up, and she does it without complaining or lying to the press, most of the time. If I was in her position, I'd probably have caused some of those reporters serious bodily harm -- I'm frequently tempted to do that anyway, and it's much worse for her. Around here, C.J. is the go-between for the world inside and the much larger one outside. That's a hell of a lot of pressure, and she does it beautifully.
Charlie Young has the other worst possible job. Poor kid. It's like being a babysitter, a butler, and a bodyguard all at once. I'll never know for sure how he doesn't go crazy, but I imagine he's somewhat the same as me, the same as the rest of us. All the hundreds of other people who work here, in whatever capacity. All the stress, all the chaos -- and the power, and the history, and the importance of it all. It's worth it.
The people here amaze me, and though we have very different responsibilities, we have a lot in common. We all get annoyed and tired like everyone in the world, but we keep coming back, day after day. And I think all of us love it. That's the real spell this place casts on you. We love the work; we love the responsibility. Because every last one of us believes in it.
And the President, of course. Goes without saying.
There isn't a person in the building who wouldn't give up everything they have to serve and protect that office, or that man, even though they're not the ones getting paid to do exactly that. That's my job. Speaking of which, I have to get going.
"Eagle is on the move."
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