My Part-Time Gig
My sincerest apologies for my lack of follow up. Apparently, I’m not as great at technology as I once believed, thus the reason why there’s been a month lull between columns. However, we’re officially back on track!
There’s a popular television show where prospective brides go to a fancy boutique in a big city and describe their dream wedding day to the consultants, who then help to find the perfect dress for this perfect celebration. Destination wedding on a beach somewhere? No problem! Giant church wedding with an outside reception at an old plantation house? They’ve got you covered!
Private ceremony in the mountains? Check, check and check. These consultants find the perfect fit for brides who come to spend thousands on the perfect dress. In many episodes, you’ll watch the bride and the mother-of-the-bride, mother-of-the-groom, sister, or even a bridesmaid go head-to-head, fighting over which dress fits better, if there’s too many ruffles, if the bow is too big or too small, or if the dress is completed with a tiara or a simple veil. (Quite frankly, sometimes I find those episodes and watch them to appreciate the simplicity of my life in Stephens County.)
So, what does a television show about dresses have to do with politics? When I decided to do this thing, people started immediately asking me who I was going to use as a campaign consultant. I quickly Googled “campaign consultant” to figure out what role these people played in this journey so that when people asked, I would have more than just a blank stare to provide them.
Within a few days, I had a list of about 20 people or entities who functioned in this capacity and had set up appointments with any of the ones who would take my call. I’ll save you the boring interview stories, but you cannot possibly understand the complexity of this decision without understanding the reality behind this interviewing process.
One of my personal favorites ended with the consultant informing me that if “HE and his team did not select ME for this race, they would be running a candidate against me.” Shortly afterward, my husband (who is the most kindhearted soul on the planet) got so mad that he excused himself from the room. Throughout those interviews, I was told things like: I needed to grow out my hair, cut my hair shorter, start wearing more makeup, keep my nails painted, and my favorite, hire a personal stylist (you know, because apparently senators don’t wear sweatpants, no makeup and baseball caps to the grocery store).
I was told that I would win just because I was a female. I was told I would lose just because I was too young for the district. As you can probably imagine, the process wasn’t fun. These consultants scour your social media, your friends’ social media, your voting records, your criminal record (if you have one) and driving record… all of it… to find any dirt they can. The good news is… despite the bad actors, there were several great choices available too!
Since you’re on the edge of your seat, I’ll get to it. I went with my gut and hired a group called Right Strategy Group, owned by Jackson Lisle and Ryan Tupps, who in 2020, merged with another company and became “Amber Integrated”. The company was Oklahoman-owned and operated, the guys were smart, they had a great reputation and had worked in parts of the district in other races, so they were familiar with the demographics. More importantly, they looked through my social media and saw all the pictures of the real me… snot wiped on the shoulders of my graphic tees from the littles, no makeup, dry shampooed hair covered up with baseball caps, and even my filthy Converse, and said…. “You be you and we’ll make it work.” They never tried to get me to change any part about myself and that was the most important thing to my husband and me.
These guys have become like family to me. They’ve been there through some of the darkest of days, they’ve made fun of me more times than I can count, they’ve celebrated in the victories and been there as I’ve figured out what in the heck I’m doing (or trying to do). Despite the long, grueling weeks of kissing frogs, I finally said “Yes!” to the “dress” that ended up being the perfect fit for me.