We had Primo's campaign launch last night. It was fun - it was a success - and my feet are killing me
We raised over one thousand dollars! That's a lot for a small-time candidate like Primo who has never run for office before. I was so touched that several of our friends - our hairdresser and her husband, the pastor who married us, my friend Lois from the Y - came. I had asked them to come but had been very clear that I was not asking them to come as donors - that I just wanted to be sure there were people who liked Primo who showed up. Although I guess people who don't like him wouldn't have bothered to come but whatever. But they donated money anyhow, which was so, so generous, especially considering we have never donated to anything they are doing.
Along those lines - this is what I want to say to Primo's friends: Remember all the donations Primo has made to your cause? Remember when you ran the marathon for the disease du jour and he gave you $25? Remember all the baby presents? Remember the graduation presents? Note that Primo has no children and has never asked you to donate to a charity. This is his cause. This is the time for you to reciprocate. He has opened his wallet for you - now open yours for him.
Primo was nervous. He emailed me yesterday afternoon saying he was a bit down because he hadn't raised enough money. I got the full story after the event. Samantha has added a new guy to the campaign team - I don't remember his name and I don't remember his role, but he's on the team. Primo, Samantha, and this guy met yesterday. The guy asked Primo if he was willing to put more of our own money into the campaign. Primo pointed out that we have already put $7,500 in (I know - it kind of makes you sick to your stomach) and that he is taking a three-month unpaid leave of absence from his job, so we are making an even larger financial sacrifice with that. Yes, I am now working, but I make only one third of what Primo makes.
The guy's response? "Well, you can always drop out of the race, you know."
What a jerk.
Of course Primo can drop out of the race. The facts are not in dispute. But he doesn't want to. He's in. What he needs is encouragement and help raising money. He especially didn't need the Tough Love Talk a few hours before his first fundraiser.
Fortunately, he pulled himself together and was on for the event. He looked nice in his new (on sale) olive worsted wool suit. He mingled. He gave a very short speech, which is the kind most people like. I have never heard anyone say, "That speech was too short! I wanted more!"
The first thing I noticed when I got there, at 5:30, before the official start of 6:00, was that Samantha's pink underwear were visible through her eyelet dress. I said nothing because what could she do? If I told her, she would be miserable for the next four hours as she thought of everyone seeing her underwear.
I also didn't tell her because she still annoys me a bit. She did nothing to help organize the event. Isn't that what campaign managers do? Organize campaign stuff? Not Samantha.
I worked the registration desk, which was fine with me as mingling and small talk are not my forte, especially when it comes to politics. Jim and Scott were there as sponsors. They said they would help Primo and they are doing it. Scott introduced Primo, then said, "I'm going to do what Primo can't do, which is the Ask. I'm asking for your money. I'm asking you to open your wallets and give. Campaigns are expensive. We have to have money for this to work. Please give generously."
It's always easier to ask for money for someone else than to ask for yourself.
Once I had everyone checked in, I mingled, too. It was easier after I had the key lime martini that Jim bought for me. I spoke to the guys from the firefighters' union and to the Pakistani candidate from the next district over. He had worked for the Big Southern City mayor, so we talked about Big Southern City and how it compared to here. Big Southern City wins on winter, this place wins on summer. I moved and mingled and by the end of the evening, my feet hurt so much that I could hardly walk. That's what I get for wearing high heels to something like this. As if anyone is going to vote for Primo based on my shoes.
I finally told Samantha, right before we left, that she shouldn't wear pink panties with that dress.
She gasped in horror. "Why didn't you tell me right away?" she asked.
I shrugged. "What were you going to do?" I asked. "It's not like we're anywhere near Target. You couldn't run and get another pair."
She smirked. "I am a true blonde, you know. I could have just taken them off."