I was sick to my stomach. I wanted to get the hell out. The first and last time I ever worked on a political campaign was quite possibly the most horrific experience of my life. Witnessing the phoniness and lies firsthand has since made me a cynic towards almost anything which makes itself out to be official. That includes politics, the media, institutions, and corporations. I am grateful, however, that I could have such a experience earlier in my life rather than later. My naivete was, as a result, obliterated A and I have since a pair of eyes that aren't so easily deceived.
It all started with a mistake. To join my high school's Teenage Republican's Club. Having already come to understand my general political bent, I decided it would be a fitting activity to take part in. I had already joined the debate club, but had found it to be composed almost entirely of very liberal-minded students whose company I didn't always enjoy. So the first time I heard the announcement for the Teenage Republican's Club in the school's daily bulletin, I was excited to join. Upon the first meeting of the club, I was a bit disappointed, as it was just as unorganized as any other small high school club. Nevertheless I was glad to be there, A among politically like-minded people. Having become politically aware at a young age because of my father and a fervor for talk-radio, I felt that identifying myself as a conservative gave me more of a purpose in life. I also felt like I belonged among other conservatives.
Meetings were composed of general discussion of current events, some light debate with visiting liberal students, and planning for future events. I only recall there being one or two events for the entire life of the club, and one of them was the opportunity to work on the local congressman's campaign. Details were scarce, but I didn't mind, I felt like I needed to jump right in. I was eager to get involved, and signed up enthusiastically. The event was on election night, and we were to come to the campaign headquarters and help in any way they wanted us to. I was very excited. I really, however, had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Election night came, and I was all riled up and ready to go. It was a gloomy Tuesday night, and as my mother drove me to the location I envisioned how wonderful it would be when the results were in and our congressional candidate victorious. We arrived, and I bid my mother farewell as I run off into the building. The first person I spot in the large room covered in red, white, and blue is a fellow club member. She has a melancholy look about her. I greet her and she tells me to go to the back and get signed in. This is when I first notice something fishy. The back room is filled with food. Now I understand that a meager meal or snacks should be served at a long evening event...