Dogs & Doge
Now that Marley lives with us, Peg and I have rejoined a robust community of dog walkers. We get to know dogs’ names and histories before we get to the people at the other end of the leash.
Last night, a conversation with a new acquaintance transcended the brace of dogs on our arms and landed on the reality of DOGE.
DOGE arrived at his facility on Wednesday. They fit the stereotype of entitled, enabled techno-kids…a squad who cared not at all to understand the big picture of the agency’s service, what it had in process, or what it delivered as a final service to which constituencies.
It was clear from the outset that they were going after pelts.
The coming weeks are fraught for my new friend and his family and, frankly, for all of us, because his agency provides a high-level service to the public at-large, something that the private sector simply doesn’t do.
His story reminded me of my time in Korporate America, as brief as it was, when short-timing, transitory leadership would make decisions about what looked to them like low-hanging fruit in order to pump up quarterly numbers or to make the year-end look good, all on the way to building a personal resume for advancement.
Nothing is more destructive to an organization (and its competitiveness, the quality of its product or service, and its morale) than to be compelled to endure uninformed short-term profit-maximizing decisions made by people who will not have to live with the damage created by their self-interest.
As our dogs peed on every planter, fire hydrant, and stop sign along our path, my walking partner described to a T what I myself had witnessed decades ago in the slow dissolution of a company that I loved.
In my case, I bailed out. I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t take it.
How lucky was I - and selfish, too - to be able to do that.
In my new friend’s case, of course, his company is my company, too. As a citizen I both pay for and am the beneficiary of his work. I share his anger and incredulity without having to (yet) share his personal anxiety or immediate risk.
What’s taking place in America today is surreal. I’m in a bubble right now. I read, hear of, and see the early impacts of the damage done by the republican party, but so much of it is third-person right now. All I do is write these hyperventilated pages in the morning, send letters to the good guys and to the bad guys, sign petitions, write checks, and try to comfort dog walkers.
It’s not enough.
But until DOGE and a sleepy congress come for my social security, my health care, or totally crash the economy- all of which are well within the realm of possibility over the next four years – I’m relatively unscathed.
Palms up is not the place to be right now. Nor is heads-in-sand-republicanism or taking a cowardly pass at running a Town Hall because you don’t like how the people you are supposed to be working for ask questions that you can’t answer.
I followed a Tesla the other day that carries a sticker stating “I bought my Tesla before I knew he was crazy.”
Good try.
But it’s not enough.