Free The Weed Agency by Jim Geraghty Page A

with a few races waiting to be decided. Eight more Republicans in the Senate. Eleven more new Republican governors. Alabama senatorRichard Shelby, a Democrat, announced that he would switch parties.
    “I guess he has to follow his principles,” Jamie shrugged.
    “His principle is that he doesn’t want to be in the minority!” hissed Lisa.
    The younger staff was abuzz. Neither Jamie nor Lisa had voted yesterday—as District of Columbia residents, the only meaningful votes they cast came on the day of the Democratic primary—but they knew they had witnessed history, and the atmosphere of crisis was a welcome interruption to the boredom that had dominated their first two years on the job.
    Wilkins found their excitement off-putting.
    “I’ve got a friend, works in the administration, policy analyst,” Wilkins mumbled as they filed into the conference room. “He’s working on the next year’s budget proposal for the State Department. I called him this morning. He said, he came into his office, looked at a pile of paperwork about foreign aid allocations sitting on his desk, and thought, ‘Should I toss this in the trash? Should I go forward as if nothing changed? Is there even going to
be
any foreign aid?’ My God, what do we do now?” 19
    Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “This is kind of how I expected the government to respond to an alien invasion.”
    “Have you ever seen that alien autopsy video? The thing on the table looks an awful lot like Newt Gingrich with no hair,” Lisa scoffed.
    “This is no time for panic,” declared a grave, and slightly hungover, Humphrey from the doorway. “In two months, a horde of Republicans will take office, none of whom have any appreciation for the work of this agency, and at least one who is determined to see all of us thrown out into the cold. This is a time to report to battle stations.”
    He settled in at the head of the conference table, and began handing out thick folders of information.
    “We will need to research every potential avenue of leverage, every operation in every district with a new congressman, how many jobs, farms, and other Americans are influenced by our operations. We will need to research the past statements of all incoming congressmen who could be on the committees that could affect us—Agriculture, Appropriations, House Oversight and Government Reform, the works.” He sighed. “And then there is the new Speaker.”
    A new hire asked, “Do we have any offices in Gingrich’s district?”
    “Suburban Atlanta,” Wilkins answered. “We’ve got no real presence in the district, so we can’t claim he’ll cut jobs in his own community.”
    Humphrey glanced down at a memo. “Any word from our allies in the pesticide industry?”
    “They say they have some ties to DeLay, who’s supposed to be making a run for majority whip,” Wilkins said. “Might be something there, but it’s early and tenuous. Wouldn’t want to stake all our futures on it.”
    Humphrey turned to Lisa.
    “Miss Bloom, this morning I asked you to begin reviewing every public utterance that Newt Gingrich had ever said about the federal workforce and the workings of government. Have you found anything useful?
    “Um …” she began, a little stunned that after feeling largely ignored for two years, the administrative director suddenly expected her to have an idea of how to save the whole ship from sinking within a few hours. “Gingrich’s election night party was hosted by a local conservative talk show host named Sean Hannity. In his speech last night, Gingrich promised, “Everybill or committee report filed in Washington will be available instantly on computer.”
    “Great, I was dreading a long wait to read the bill calling for the elimination of our jobs,” Wilkins quipped.
    Undeterred, Lisa continued, “But in a speech a few days ago, he said, ‘When you see a large government bureaucracy, is it an inevitable relic of the past that can’t be changed, or is