A Most Momentous Week Indeed (Robyn Meets Bono)

I was off to such a good start, update-wise, this month. A run of three (three!) updates in a row promised to result in breaking my all-time record of four updates in a row, set sometime in the spring of 2002 when cool stuff was actually going down on a regular basis.

Alas, my renewed diligence was interrupted by really cool stuff going down, and my not having the time to write about it. No disrespect to the website audience (both of you), but I wouldn't mind a more regular occurrence of this kind of dilemma.

The first week in May was a brief respite between moving into DC and helping to set up the annual InterAction Forum. To recap, the Forum is an event at which the executives and employees of the nation's leading humanitarian organizations come to the Washington Marriott for three days and go to workshops and eat salmon and wear nametags and discuss the current state of international development and humanitarian workers (here's a hint: it's currently pretty crappy). Very important issues are discussed and very important speakers are in attendance (see last Update).

The whole shebang this year was essentially organized by a relatively new and preternaturally capable employee named Cassandra who has never done anything like this in her life. Cassandra was primarily assisted by an equally capable consultant named Beth. I was on hand as well for much of the week leading up to the event.

There were several 15 hour-plus days which consisted of padding around the dark office in socks, sticking little flags that say "Advocacy Day" to roughly 2,465,634 name badge holders (unofficial estimate), running off enough copies to bring the Rainforest Action Network to its knees in despair, removing roughly 394,857 "Advocacy Day" badges from the nametags of those who cancelled, and vicious tirades aimed at attendees, hotel organizers and, at times, colleagues all in the name of "therapeutic venting." For good measure, I hyperextended my knee early on in the process and so continued the rest of the endeavor hobbling around and whacked out on painkillers. The first day of the conference revealed that even the most empathetic and saintly of humanitarian workers who would lay down their lives to get a bag of rice to a village in Ethiopia will just about disembowel you for mis-alphabetizing their program packet. Pulling off a conference like this with little direction and little perspective of what the hell you're doing is much like making sausage. Just enjoy the tasty treat before you, and inquire not about the nasty, bloody work it took to get it to your table.

But this is a not a hard-knock tale, dear friends, for there was considerable emotional payoff for myself on the first night, when Bono made his appearance. He was a bit late, which accounted for a good deal of poorly concealed concern on the part of those staffers who had earlier been practicing shepherding a Bono stand-in through the catacombs of the hotels service entrances with walkie-talkies and all manner of gratuitous, CIA-style rock star-wrangling (by comparison, Colin Powell and the Secret Service-type folks just walked through the door and locked it behind them). But he arrived, the staffers still got to play Secret Agent, and he delivered a very good speech that had those who were skeptical about his inclusion in the program fairly well converted. After his speech he was led by his "people" (easily distinguishable from the non-profit crowd by their black suits, black shirts, and red neckties) into a room where the InterAction staff gathered for a group photo. Sadly, I am a bit obscured in the shot, and there was no verbal exchange nor a handshake between myself and the guest of honor. However there was a point in the evening after the initial insanity of the early morning had faded away, the event seemed to be well on its way to success despite many long hours of doom-laden prophecies on my part, and I was standing (quite literally) shoulder to shoulder with someone whom I can claim as my hero without fear of being guilty of overstatement. At this point, all the grief and trauma that marked not only the past week, but the past year and a half, was all worth it, and I was ecstatic.

And just in case it's not all worth it, I have a nice chunk of overtime coming my way. Don't even worry about that.

Robyn

Bono is Coming...

I know it's been a busy month, what with moving and all, but I'm a bit surprised at myself for not having mentioned this before. I share this news with not necessarily out of my own personal proclivities, but because it is my professional duty to promote the efforts of my organization:

Bono is coming.

As part of the InterAction Forum, a yearly gathering of the CEOs and other interested parties of the leading international American humanitarian groups, Bono will be speaking at the Humanitarian Awards dinner, at which I shall be reporting the proceedings in a most objective and dignified manner for InterAction's esteemed publication, Monday Developments.
It shall be a most informative evening at which the leaders in humanitarian policy and practice will be honored by their peers, and a multitude of insight and ideas shall be exchanged among luminaries of the international development community. Rest assured that I understand the magnitude of the event, and the professionalism it requires.

However, in the context of my own personal website, my feelings regarding the proceedings can be summed up thusly: Holy crap in a chicken basket, this totally rocks.

Also in attendance will be Colin Powell, Nobel Laureate Amartya Sen, U.N. High Commissioner on Refugees Ruud Lubbers, etc., etc., etc.

And to think, this time last year I was folding pants at Express.

More to come, of course.

Robyn

Smarty Jones

How nice to see a horse from the Palookaville known as Philadelphia Park win the Kentucky Derby.

Philadelphia Park is located in beautiful Bensalem, Pa., a mere 15 minutes from the family home in Richboro. Although I have never gone there for a race, I am well acquainted with its grounds, as it hosts the Pennsylvania Fair every May.

Philadelphia Park is very blue-collar, very not glamorous, and very un-Kentucky Derby. Which is why Smarty's recent bitch-slapping of the other contenders at the Derby is so very satisfying.
If only that horse could give the Philadelphia Eagles a talking-to on how to kick ass when it counts. If only...

Well done Smarty Jones, his trainers and the Philadelphia Park. Mad props to y'all. Quite.

Robyn

Legally Red

Last week was to be my big Congressional debut, in a sense. I was given the intriguing assignment of going up to Capitol Hill to cover a briefing by the Human Rights Caucus on the situation in Uganda. Although I had something of an idea of the situation in Uganda (briefly stated, it's bad), I was rather excited to hear a Congressman's take on it, since I usually only hear from humanitarian workers in the course of my job. Additionally, being able to attend Congressional briefings as part of your job is really cool -- especially when you consider that six months ago my main job entailed folding pants.

So I squeezed my size 6 frame into my size 2 suit and informed the receptionist that I was to be on the Hill until four, just in case anyone was looking for me. If she wasn't as polite as she is, I'm sure she would have told me that that's all well and good but you know no one will be looking for you and besides other people in this office go to the Hill every day so it's no big deal you jackass. As it was she merely said, "Mm," which I interpreted as "Go Robyn go."

Our briefing was to be held in the Committee of International Relations hearing room. Other non-profit workers slowly filed in. I wrote the title of the briefing in careful handwriting on at the top of my page, and sat up nice and straight, waiting to journalize with authority.
And then we waited.

I figured the Congressman must be running late. Five minutes isn't so bad, and my watch was a bit fast anyway. I was a bit miffed that someone else showed up to attend the briefing in a sweater and jeans while I was causing significant distress to my digestive system in my merciless pants, but no matter. I would just make that much more of a good impression.
After ten minutes I wondered why the lectern in the room looked so dang shitty. It was terribly scuffed up, and one side looked as though it was pulling away from the others, leaving an unseemly gap. This was the Committee on International Relations, not Richboro Elementary School after all. Jeans girl was now chewing gum.

After twenty five minutes, I had tired of contemplating the lectern, people passing outside in the hall were looking at us with confusion and pity, and it was abundantly clear we had been stood up. There was nothing left to do but drown my disappointment in the creamy gravy of the pot pie at the cafeteria. As is so often the case in Important Buildings, I discovered that the cafeteria was way more interesting than anything else. The furniture was way nicer there than in the hearing room. I thought I saw Tim Russert, until I realized that just about every paunchy white guy in the room looked like Tim Russert. My only celebrity sighting were the "freedom fries" on the menu, but then they're so last year.

So my Congressional debut was a bit of a bust, pot pie notwithstanding. Sadly, I later learned that it's not all that unusual an occurance to have briefings cancelled without warning. It was a disappointment sure, but at least I looked good. Agonized and constricted, but good.

Robyn

"Moby, I'm Sorry I Broke Your Potty"

Jeffrey and I went to New York for a very nice, and very chilly, post-Valentine's Day/President's Day weekend. This visit, we decided to embark upon the East Village hippie experience we always meant to have at NYU, but never got around to it. Yes, there's a fair amount of facetiousness in that statement. Relax already.

How does one go about this? First, one must stay in the reasonably hip Union Square area in a place that's fairly unheard of, fairly reasonable, and very clean (we're bohemians this weekend, not animals). Then one should explore thrift shops that sell a bunch of the same crap I played with when I was four, but is now being resold in dishevled, used incarnations for about twice the price my parents paid for it in 1984 all in the name of kitsch. A stop in an all-British owned chip shop for a deep fried Mars bar is nice. Followed by tea in the vegetarian tea shop owned by Moby (the Mobyteria, in Robyn parlance). Of the 96 types of tea (no hyperbole implemented), I selected a delicate oolong (great words always start with two vowels), which I was told was handpicked high in the treetops by monkeys. I questioned the ethics of a vegetarian tea house that chooses to employ monkey labor, but did not do so out loud, for I desired monkey tea without argument. Those monkeys pick some fine tea. I just hope they get decent benefits. I think I may have broken the flusher on Moby's toilet. Although I was too embarassed to notify the staff, I now tak ethe opportunity to say: "Moby, I'm sorry I broke your potty." We follwed the tea shop visit with a trip to a feminist bookshop that smelled like tasty coffee.

Bohemian Day was brought to a close with the requisite visit to oh-so-mainstream (and oh-so-pretty) Rockefeller Center. The visit lasted approximately four and a half minutes, for it was told as a citch's wit. Following day consisted of a visit to the Met, then home.

Thus endeth the entry that proves that Robyn is indeed "getting out."

Robyn

A Word on Job Hunting

This month I finally was offered a job at InterAction. I'd been temping there for about two months, covering for someone who left rather suddenly, and although I was not offered the job that I was temping for, they went ahead and created a position for me. That makes me feel special. I'll be assisting the President of the organization, as well as various other committess with names like the Commission on the Advancement of Women, Humanitarian Policy and Practice, and Public Policy. I also get to write a weekly article, so all that book-larnin' weren't fer nuthin' after all.

There is a bit of a dilemma in explaining what InterAction actually is. In casual conversation, the description of "a coalition of US-based non-governmental organizations specializing in international relief and development," tends to make people glaze over about three words in. "The United Nations of American International Non-profits" is a bit lofty, but seems a bit more direct. Plus "American International" is understandably awkward. "International relief" also tends to rub some people the wrong way as being too Commie-Pinko-Lefty. This is not the desired effect, nor is it entirely accurate. I shall puzzle it out in due time. Meanwhile, suffice to say that I'm quite happy. And I get my name on the door. I'm a grown-up, I am.

Since I am no longer utilizing this site for the sake of prospective employers, may I offer a word on job-hunting? It's miserable. It's humiliating. It's a soul-crushing, heart-breaking, hysteria-inducing, relationship-damaging mind-boggling stupid stupid stupid awful process. I am not engaging in hyperbole for effect, people. I don't recommend it to anybody, and I'm damned glad it's over.

Robyn

Saddam Hussein

Like everyone else, I woke up to the good news today that Saddam Huseein had been caught. And it is good news. It surprised the snot out of me, to be sure, but on thins particular issue it felt kinda nice to be surprised.

I still think it's premature to backpedal on anything I've previously thought or said about te war, but I do think the next few months should prove very interesting in light of this weekend's events. Most immediately, it should enliven the current election campaigns of the various Democratic candidates. At least it will give them new things to yell at each other about. Lately they've all bored the hell out of me. Maybe they'll be a bit more amusing for a few weeks anyway.

But I digress.

Like I said, it's still to early to see whether or not this justifies the whole effort in Iraq. I'll admit that it's nice to see that something seems to have gone right. I said it before in the spring, this is one case where I'd be more than pleased to be proved wrong about a lot of different things.

Robyn