What a Gen-Y needs to know before working in politics

Government, and all the industries (read: lobbying, policy analysis, more lobbying) that come with that, have begun to encompass an ever-greater presence in the day-to-day affairs of Americans. You can't help but see what political drama is going on when you turn on the 24 hour news networks. Especially in today's day and age, the policy that is set forth by our state and federal lawmakers has a great amount of potential to affect just about any facet of you or my life. Another thing that is especially true about today's political climate is the level of cynicism that accompanies the public at large. You don't see Republicans and Democrats: You see crooks and cowards (not that one party monopolizes either trait). And honestly, I can't blame you.

But yet, you still want to get involved. Maybe you had some great government teacher in high school or college, or maybe you have heard a politician that you can finally get behind. Or it could simply be that you have become passionate about one particular issue, and want to work to see some change. Well before I go any further, good for you. After all, Plato once wrote, "One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors."

However, no matter what party or idea you commit to, you will run into some aspects of this line of work that will discourage you. Some of you may even decide government and politics is not for you. This is especially true of our generation, because while the market can change in a heartbeat, the gears of bureaucracy grind ever so slowly. But now that I've nearly scared you away, there are some advantages too, aspects that will either let you get ahead, or enjoy it even more than working at the donut shop*. Let me go into more detail below.

Problem: If you have little experience, you will be considered a grunt

I understand that you have spent the past four years doing nothing but writing reports on the economic and sociopolitical predicaments of the lower class urban voter, but most likely, you will still be shuffling papers or helping work call nights for the beginning. On top of this, you will probably be given more of these tasks to complete than physically possible. No matter what, don't give up. Most of the time, campaign organizers or policy directors give the new guy/girl crap in efforts to send you packing. The reality is that the workload changes dramatically over the span of a year. For example, if you are involved with a campaign, the week before the election you will be lucky to get a few hours of sleep a night. If, on the other hand, you are a policy analyst, you may be working with your group at all hours during the general assembly, who has just decided to hear your pet bill two days from now. They need to know they can rely on you in these clutch moments, and the best way to do so is to separate the wheat from the chaff at the start.

Advantage: Most campaigns and policy groups are perpetually behind the times

While this sounds like a problem, this is actually a prime opportunity for you to grow in reputation with whatever group you are with. Unless you are working on a technological policy, chances are whatever models and systems they have in place are outdated. What I mean by this is that I've seen some lobbying groups (none that I worked for) that still maintained sprawling word folders for their work on bills and opinions thereof and so forth. They explained to me that they needed a method for any member of the team to easily access the documents, and alter them without having to comprise all of the different sections into one file. When I showed them the potential that a Wiki brought to their problem, it was like showing a caveman fire. Another example would be the recent propagation of candidate pages on all of the social networking websites. They only started doing that after large facebook groups were made, or someone new to their campaign showed them the power of a free way to appeal to younger voters. There is so much we take for granted, having grown up with it, that the older generations aren't aware of. Harness that.

Problem: Your little ship of idealism will be battered against the icy crags of reality

You will have worked on a campaign for a real everyman, who was going to bring the power back to the people. Or you will have worked for 8 months, crafting a bill the appeals to a majority of the legislators, while still helping solve the problem you actually had. In this moment, your sense of dedication to the cause and pride in your own efforts is pretty much at its apex. That is precisely when a grumpy old guy that disagrees with you for whatever reason (maybe he is just having a bad day) throws a rider onto your bill that causes everyone to vote against it. Or going back to the first example, your opponent comes out with an extremely negative (and technically untrue) ad that completely sways public opinion against you. In short, you lose. While this type of thing happens in many lines of work, it is especially common, and especially downing, in government. The important thing to take from this is that you need to come back next year with greater support. Whatever you do, don't let it poison your drive or love for the system. You will run into many a 40-year old nonprofit advocate who is jaded about his job. These people suck happiness out of a room faster than how quickly OJ's recent robbery plan went to pieces. You need to stay strong, because that bill, or that type of candidate, still needs your help. A politician or opposing lobbyist can kill a bill. They can ruin a candidate. Those are simple things to do, honestly. What they can never touch is the IDEA those bills and candidates represent. No matter the opposition, it is your job to bring them into positions where they can do the most good. Even if it means submitting a bill six years in a row. Your idea will outlast any person, and that is its greatest strength.

On that note I leave you, dear reader, until a few days from now when I wrap this up. If you've enjoyed the read, or have any questions, please email me at the link at the top of the right column. And especially if you have any requests for subject matter, let me know, and I'll either answer it myself or interview someone who can.

*If it is a really good donut shop, I can't guarantee this fact to be true. I mean, if you're allowed to eat a blueberry fritter that is just out of the oven, blueberries picked only yesterday, the kind of thing that melts in your mouth… Why aren't you working there right this second?

I was young and naïve — Learn from my mistakes

Back in college, a journalism professor told me if I wanted to get noticed, I needed to start a blog. I was too busy enjoying my social life to really care.

"That's BS!" I'd say. "Who spends their free time blogging?"

Oh the irony…

A couple months into Employee Evolution, Healy and I were looking for all the help we could get. We searched high and low. Healy found Penelope, but I was still coming up dry.

Then I thought of that professor, whom I gave so much trouble. She was an active blogger under several aliases and I knew exactly where to find her.

That evening I wrote a lengthy email. I explained what I was doing with my life and asked her to give me some feedback. Of course, I was hoping for a lot more, but feedback was a reasonable jump-off point.

Days went by, then weeks, then months – NOTHING. And here I am on the verge of the biggest leap I've ever taken. There are a million things to be concerned with, and yet, I continue to think about why she never wrote me back.

There are dozen possibilities. Maybe she accidentally deleted it, or maybe my email got spammed. Hell, maybe she retired early and PSU forgot to take her off the faculty roster. Who knows? But for some reason, I feel like she dogged me.

And who could blame her? I was the kid who showed up late (if at all) and didn't exactly take things seriously. Obviously, I'm a very different person today, but all she had to go on was that college brat who was "too cool for school."

The worst part was I utterly discounted her passion for blogging. I thought it was stupid and worthless. And here I am today – about to start a company that stemmed from a blog.

Now the lesson here is not that you shouldn't be a brat in college. Nobody could've curbed my selfishly reckless behavior (and I don't really regret it). The lesson is to never take other people's ideas for granted.

All too often we shrug off great ideas because we think they're "stupid and worthless." We act like "college me," and completely miss out on something with the potential to be great.

I see it in the working world all the time. More often than not, it's management discounting their employees, not giving them enough credit as creative thinkers. But it's also co-workers discounting each other, for no apparent reason, other than pride.

Since starting Employee Evolution, I've learned that the best ideas are born in simplistic ways. At first, they may not even seem like they're going to work, but you try. If you don't, you're just as dumb and naïve as me in college.

Today I decided to write another letter to my professor. I want to tell her what I'm doing with my life. Not to brag that I did it without her help, but to tell her I was an idiot for not listening to her ideas.

Maybe it's worth nothing else than my own piece of mind, but that's enough for me. If nothing else, I've learned from my mistakes. From now on, I'll keep an open mind, because the best ideas are usually the ones we question. But sometimes, when we answer those questions, the outcome is nothing less than great.

Priceless reactions to my big career change

Last weekend at the bar, my friend and I went to the upper room and got some drinks. We spoke with a couple of girls who told us it was a private party, but nobody else was there.

"It doesn't seem like much of a party to me," I joked.

One of the girls replied: "Well you can leave if you want. We didn't invite you."

…I deserved that response.

I apologized, and bought her a drink. She wanted nothing to do with me after my snide remark, but then she asked what I did for a living. I told her about our plan to start Brazen Careerist.

The next thing I knew, she was telling me her life story. She even tried to sell me on why she would make a perfect accountant for our new business.

I'm constantly amazed at the range of reactions I get when I explain my next career move. Then again, there are always a few familiar responses.

Are you hiring?

Hands down this is the most common response I get and it almost always comes from other Gen-Yers. I am amazed at how many people seriously ask me this question.

The conclusion I have drawn from this is that millennials all want to try something fun and interesting, but most of us either don't know where to begin or are too scared to risk everything on a startup. This should say a lot to employers.

First off, small startups should have no problem recruiting young people. If you have a somewhat established small business that can pay employees without giving up equity, the market is incredible. Secondly, if you are a large corporation, figure out how to operate more like a startup. See Google for instructions.

You need to do it while you're young.

The most common response I get from Gen-Xers is, "Go for it. You have to do it while you're young or you never will."

I love this response because it completely reaffirms my thoughts that the time to get ahead is in your twenties – before a spouse, before kids and before a mortgage. Most folks who tell me this are completely happy with their lives, but they seem to admire that I'm giving it a shot. I often repeat this response to myself when I'm lying in bed wondering, "What the hell am I doing with my life?"

What on earth could make you move to Wisconsin?

This is a tough one. I have always lived on the coast. I was born in the Bay Area, went to grammar school in Seattle, High School in Connecticut, College in Pennsylvania and spent the past year in Washington D.C.

There are two things that could make me want to move to Wisconsin. One would be the girl of my dreams (of course, I would try to convince her to move to my area first). The second would be a chance to finally start a company. Who knows if I will like Madison or not, but I'm not making the decision based on the city, I'm making the decision based on my career.

If this explanation isn't sufficient, I usually tell people about my trip cross country when I moved from Seattle to Connecticut. I was 12 years old. Of all the places we stopped on the 11-day journey, I liked Madison the best. I told my mom that I wanted to move there one day. Maybe it's fate. Then again, I was 12.

Finally, if it's a guy, and they still aren't satisfied, I just tell them Madison has tons of beautiful college girls. They wish me the best of luck!

How can you afford to support yourself?

This is a great question, and one that I often ask myself. Truthfully, I'm not totally sure. We have raised some angel money, so I can draw a salary, and I do have some savings. But beyond that, there are no guarantees.

In a strange way, this excites me. I have never experienced life without a steady, guaranteed stream of income.

The health insurance thing is my biggest worry. Even with a small salary, I don't think it's realistic to draw enough for full coverage. I'll get a catastrophic plan at some point. But I guess there will be no more visits to the doctor for my annual sinus infection. I'm definitely rolling the dice, but it's worth the risk.

Is "Paying Your Dues" an Outdated Concept?

When I was in high school, I was completely consumed and obsessed with theatre. My high school put on exactly one musical per year — it was my life. I planned and schemed all summer about my audition in the fall. I took voice lessons from the sister of the musical director (a little networking there) and paid for them by working all summer at JCPenney's. When the musical was over, I was depressed for weeks–until I started thinking about next year.

The way the casting at my school worked was this: the seniors always got the lead roles. Every so often, a talented junior would get a lead, but this was the only exception. So when I was a freshman in the chorus, I didn't mind — I knew I had to pay my dues. When I was a sophomore in the chorus, I didn't mind that either — there was always next year. And when I was a junior with three lines, well…my time would come.

Senior year rolled around, and I took stock of my situation before auditioning. I knew who all the other players were: the competing seniors who would be going for the lead roles. And I knew I was a likely candidate. I was talented, passionate, and driven. Not to mention, I'd paid my dues. The director knew me—I had been in the musical for three years now. I had never missed a rehearsal, never goofed off during practice time, and always knew the songs weeks in advance.

But that year—the beginning of my senior year—the old musical director quit. And the new one came from the nearby middle school. He knew a lot of kids in the incoming freshman class. And guess what? He casted the people he knew. I didn't get a lead, and nobody else in the senior class did, either.

I know this mini-tragedy is not important in the grand scheme of my life. But it did teach me one thing that I haven't forgotten — to be extremely skeptical of people who tell you to pay your dues. You can do everything right, and still get passed by.

I'm always interested in conversations about the clash of generations. And when older employees talk about younger ones, someone eventually brings it up — we all need to pay our dues. We're not supposed to want more—not before our time. And from the perspective of those who've been there longer, I can understand how frustrating it must be to see new employees with no experience come into their company demanding things like more vacation time and more responsibility—things they themselves had to work for years to get.

But the problem from the younger employee's perspective is that the world doesn't always reward the due-payers. A lot of people my age have seen parents laid off multiple times. Employer loyalty is more difficult to come by, and the company man is a dying breed. We didn't grow up watching dues-payers cash in. We watched them lose out.

This is one reason Gen-Y employees have a reputation for being impatient and entitled. We see that paying dues and waiting patiently might not get us anywhere. A new boss can still come in and change the rules at the last minute. Our company can still decide to outsource our jobs to the Philippines. Life isn't fair or predictable. So we want to grab what we can as soon as we can get it.

I'm not advocating that Gen-Y employees should all be given high-level jobs, months of vacation time and great salaries the moment they set foot in the door. Experience matters, and most entry-level hires don't feel ready for a huge amount of responsibility from the get-go. But I think we do need to feel like we're in an environment where we can learn, achieve our goals and be happy. And we need to feel that soon, or we'll start looking for other options. Not because we're impatient or entitled, but because life is short—and no matter how long you pay your dues, there are no guarantees.

How I Quit My Job & Explained My Next Move

The first time I quit a job, I was 18 years old. I was a cook and a baker at a bagel shop in Jersey, but it was time to leave for college. I didn't think twice about leaving.

As you can imagine, roughly six years later, with a respectable corporate job and a decent starting salary, "I quit" didn't seem to cut it anymore.

"So…," I'd say, "I decided to move to Madison, WI, and pursue my passion for entrepreneurship. I'll be making no money, living on bread crumbs and braving the grueling winters of 'lake country.' Thanks for having me."

I could only imagine her response: "Hmmm…I hear they have good cheese there." I wasn't too far off

After all was said and done, I realized quitting a "real job" is not as hard as it seems – depending on the manager of course. After I left the hot seat I knew I approached things the right way.

Timing is Everything

We all know that "giving your two weeks" is pretty standard, right? Well I decided to give my "three and a half." I should've given my "four," but I spent one-too-many days pacing around thinking things through to make that happen.

My point is, there really is no standard. If you have enough leeway, you should weigh the timetable of your current short-term projects then decide how many weeks your boss needs.

But be prepared to work your ass off. Believe me, if you're an asset to your team, they'll wear you down before they let you go.

Know Your Leader

Everyone has a point in their day where you just want people to back off, especially your boss. Choose a time to talk when you know they're going to be calm, cool and collected because you're about to drop a bomb.

I chose to have my "talk" at the end of the day, when most of the workforce had already left. It guaranteed an uninterrupted meeting. There's nothing worse than delivering bad news when the recipient is already in the midst of chaos.

I'm convinced. My experience went so well mostly because I knew WHEN to "let the cat out of the bag."

Be Humble

I couldn't be happier with the opportunities my manager gave me. I worked on projects most entry-levels never get a taste of. I was grateful, and I showed it.

But maybe you're not so grateful…

Maybe your job sucked and your manager rode you like a mechanical bull. That's fine – just don't leave on a sour note.

The past can haunt you. If you're boss is as big of a jackass as you think, they wouldn't think twice about ripping you a new one when a recruiter calls for references.

Plus, you should try to leave with at least one good recommendation letter. I hear employers sometimes read those.

The Climax

So there I was – heart pounding, palms sweating, ready to give my leave. I knocked on the door, asked to talk, came in and sat down.

"Okay, here it goes…"

I told her about my plans from A to Z – from Madison to Penelope to the really tasty cheese. And you know what? She was thrilled.

As it turns out, a really great manager recognizes that each person's career path is their own.

"You gotta do, what you gotta do," she said.

We sat and talked for at least 45 minutes. Not only did I break the news in the right way, but I got my managers blessing. Go figure.

Weeks later, just before I was about to leave, the team took me out for some beers at the local pub. They were all proud of my decision to take a risk so early in my life.

"Now or never," one of my co-workers said.

It was a great evening. They even chipped in and got me a little something – a fabulous new cheese cutter for enjoying Wisconsin's finest delectable.