Chihuahua Rampage

Pat Ryan

A few of us have been running amok down in the threads, and I'm a pretty cranky guy, but there is a point. Kari's been trying to converse while keeping some semblance of civility in the debate. I'm not helping.  I'm not running with the Big Dogs, but rather kinda sitting up on the porch, being averse to both leading and following, but always willing to pitch a grenade or two.

On Saturday the latest inning of the Big Game winds up in Salem, when the delegates, will choose the leadership that will take us into the election cycle. New victors will emerge and some of the Old Dogs'll be back. They'll all have to be idealists. If they weren't, they'd work for more money in the private sector where they wouldn't have to constantly have their ankles attacked by snarling Chihuahuas. But, as always, for a lot of 'em, the wielding of power is a very important driver all by itself.  I have to say that even though there's no practical way to achieve this goal, only those who don't want power should be allowed to exercise it.      

When I'm at one of these big political or party gigs, there's this huge physically shifting crowd  dynamic as them that wants try to get next to them that dispenses whatever. While networking, an eye is always out for friend and foe,  movement and positioning of the individual power nodes, the fitful eddies of the non-players and aspiring players. Just like at your neighbor's big barbecue, folks move in and out of the Big Room as the need for privacy rises and then give way to the urge to mingle with and be recognized by others who at various useful points on the power structure. For the power guys, this is what makes up for the occasional bloodied ankle or as the man sez, a dampened fire hydrant from the aforementioned Chihuahuas.

Politeness in this environment, is an absolute prerequisite for survival since combatants have to get up off the floor and cooperate until the next round and I watch those smiles that end below the eyes being exchanged all around the room. The actual personal respect to stand and carry out a brief conversation, complete with eye contact, while enduring the  passing of a more....shall we say....useful person, seems to be in much shorter supply in the room than the politeness and the brittle smiles. I muse over my rubber chicken or stale donut and watch as an aspiring politicos start conversation with other lesser lights, jump to say, a state rep, and peel off of him for a gatekeeper to a statewide officeholder all in the space of maybe ninety seconds. My table mates and the distance of my table from the podium all speak to my worth as a human being. in many instances this worth is figured in dollars and in others by status within the org. I know that most of this stuff is basic pack or troop psychology and that not many find it as irritating as I do.

This whole process is the filtration system that winds up determining what gets done and it works against logic and efficiency, because in this system, the personal attributes that get your best ideas implemented, sometimes has little to do with whether your ideas have merit.

Observing the game and the players with staying power, it is not honesty that goes first, it's the curiosity and the self criticism, as you are fed a steady diet of positive input from those around you who themselves aspire to higher things.  Knowing what you know about the Chihuahuas, while being absolutely sure that they are actually small Norwegian Rats, can slow down the drive toward your goals whether personal or altruistic.

So, to the Big Dogs I say:

Try to pay attention to the all of the Chihuahuas  and keep an ear open, they might have about a half or maybe even a quarter of an idea that can work to your advantage. If they are inept, embarrassed, or hostile, at the very least, be a decent enough salesperson to make them walk away thinking that they've been heard. After all, you're the Big Dog and throwing 'em a bone will keep 'em from  yapping around your ankles while you're trying to the Really important Work done.

To steal a tag line from a neighbor,

Yap! Yap!

By Pat Ryan March 07, 2007