The Labyrinth Campaign by J. Michael Sweeney

National Opinion Poll. More than a thousand surveyswere conducted weekly to identify a candidate’s current position in the race to become the Democratic candidate as well as his position relative to the current president, Robert F. Hughes. The numbers didn’t lie; Will Hawkins’s awareness and preference ratings were increasing, but at a snail’s pace.
    “If this trend continues,” Doug Evans, the campaign’s research director said, “we’ll have to double our advertising budget just to have a prayer.”
    The room was silent. No one had expected it to be this difficult.
    “Thank you for such an uplifting analysis of the numbers, Mr. Evans,” John Rollins said. “You can be seated now.”
    Then Rollins proceeded to attack every person in the room. He started with Steve Bess, the campaign’s assistant chief of staff and Rollins’s right-hand man for the past fifteen years. He saved Jack for last.
    “Well, Mr. McCarthy, I’m glad you could make it this morning. You were ten minutes late on your first day, and you’re four weeks late for why we hired you. Where the fuck is this consumer expertise we were promised? We need results, and as all of you have probably noticed, we don’t have them. Now, I’m going to leave before I get really pissed. But before this day is done, I expect a plan from each of you on how we’re going to accelerate the national popularity of Senator Hawkins.”
    Rollins then spun on his heel, stormed out the door, and slammed it behind him.
    The room was eerily silent. Steve Bess spoke first. “All right, people, you know the drill. Doug, need your thoughts on the regional skew of the numbers. Chris, rerun the budget numbers and give me a 10 percent increase in our TV media budget. Kim, update the status on volunteer recruitment. Lie if you have to; I need increases. The rest of you get back to work. Jack, you come with me.”
    When Jack and Steve entered Bess’s office, Steve quickly shut the door behind them. “Well, Jack,” Steve said, chuckling, “how’re you enjoying the new job?”
    Jack took a deep breath. “Holy shit, that guy’s a maniac.”
    “Yeah, he is,” Steve replied, “and I should know. I’ve been working with him for fifteen years. But don’t take it personally; that’s his definition of motivation. And you know what? It works on most people.”
    “But that bullshit about me being four weeks late! I didn’t set the start date; that was Bo Hawkins’s call.”
    “I know that, Jack. Rollins knows it too. He’s just giving you a little kick-start by sticking his boot right up your ass.” Both men laughed.
    “Listen, Jack,” Bess continued, “John Rollins is a winner, whether you like his methods or not. We both worked on Will Hawkins’s senate campaign and were rewarded by getting to keep the Hawkins account at Metroplex Bank. Now we’re in the Super Bowl, and John Rollins will not accept the possibility of losing. He’s Ross Perot, Vince Lombardi, and Attila the Hun all rolled into one. But he’s manageable if you know the buttons to push, and I do. So stick close by me until you get more comfortable. Now, I’ve got a shitload to get done today, but let’s get a drink after work, and we can discuss next steps regarding your consumer strategy.”
    Jack agreed and left Steve Bess’s office knowing he’d just made a new friend. And just as importantly, he’d identified the ally that would help him navigate the waters of this shark tank they called a campaign.

fourteen
    J ohn Rollins and Will Hawkins sat in silence across the large coffee table from each other. Will Hawkins’s spacious downtown office had become the unofficial campaign war room where many of the real strategic decisions of the campaign were made. On this beautiful fall afternoon, they were discussing the various polls that indicated Will’s popularity was not climbing quickly enough.
    Rollins broke the silence with a pitch in his voice that was higher than normal. “I’ve