The public official’s secretary claimed she was only doing her job.
“Mr. Public official’s office,” she said. I’d called because I was working a story about how some public funds were being spent.
“Hi,” I answered. “This is Scott Carter with the newspaper may I speak with Mr. Public Official?”
Now at this point, everything was OK — but it changed quickly.
“He’s not in,” the secretary answered.
“OK, may I leave a message?”
There was a pause, and a sigh, sorta’ like I was taking up too much of her time.
“Well, yes,” she finally said.
“Great. Please have him call me at the paper at 3-6-6-3-5-4-5.”
“And what is this regarding?” she asked me.
“Pardon me?”
“Well, what do you want to talk to him about? He likes for me to find out.”
“He does?”
“Yes.” she said. By now she’s getting more frustrated with me; strange I was the one who made the call.
“So why are you calling?”
“Like I said, I’m a newspaper reporter and I’m working on a story. I’d like to get a comment from him about it.”
“What type of story?” she said.
“I prefer to discuss that with him.”
Long pause. Little Miss Personal Assistant is frosted. I’m not playing by her rules. I’m not telling her what she wants to know so she can decide whether or not to give her boss the message.
“Well, he wants to know.”
“That’s fine,” I answered. “Just tell him I called.”
Needless to say our civic official — the man who gets his salary from your tax dollars — doesn’t call me back.
Four hours later, I try again.
Same issue; the secretary wants to screen calls before she can decide whether or not to give her boss the message. Sorry, I don’t play that game.
“I’ll keep calling,” I tell her.
Now, honestly, I’m not so egotistical that I expect any government official to drop whatever they are doing and take my call. I’ve been in the newspaper industry long enough to understand that government officials are, truly, busy.
But being busy is one thing.
Openness in government is another.
Because it shouldn’t matter why I, or any taxpayer for that matter, makes a call. Each of us contributes and each of us should be allowed to question those leaders that we elect and hire to work for us.
There should be no screen.
Whether I’m an investigative reporter or a waitress at a local restaurant, the laws apply equally. Those laws are known as the Open Meeting and the Open Record Acts and they, along with our state’s Constitution, are the foundation for transparency in government.
Openness in government doesn’t rest on the shoulders of a personal assistant with an attitude problem. Instead, it’s a concept that acknowledges the government, which serves us, is available to us all.
And that “out” city official?
I finally talked to him.
I called him on his cell phone, while he was driving from one meeting to the next.
“You can call me at the office,” he said. “I’m usually there.”
“I couldn’t get through the thought police,” I told him. “So I’ll just use your cell number. That way, the communication between us is direct and open and there’s not a third party involved.”
“Mr. Public official’s office,” she said. I’d called because I was working a story about how some public funds were being spent.
“Hi,” I answered. “This is Scott Carter with the newspaper may I speak with Mr. Public Official?”
Now at this point, everything was OK — but it changed quickly.
“He’s not in,” the secretary answered.
“OK, may I leave a message?”
There was a pause, and a sigh, sorta’ like I was taking up too much of her time.
“Well, yes,” she finally said.
“Great. Please have him call me at the paper at 3-6-6-3-5-4-5.”
“And what is this regarding?” she asked me.
“Pardon me?”
“Well, what do you want to talk to him about? He likes for me to find out.”
“He does?”
“Yes.” she said. By now she’s getting more frustrated with me; strange I was the one who made the call.
“So why are you calling?”
“Like I said, I’m a newspaper reporter and I’m working on a story. I’d like to get a comment from him about it.”
“What type of story?” she said.
“I prefer to discuss that with him.”
Long pause. Little Miss Personal Assistant is frosted. I’m not playing by her rules. I’m not telling her what she wants to know so she can decide whether or not to give her boss the message.
“Well, he wants to know.”
“That’s fine,” I answered. “Just tell him I called.”
Needless to say our civic official — the man who gets his salary from your tax dollars — doesn’t call me back.
Four hours later, I try again.
Same issue; the secretary wants to screen calls before she can decide whether or not to give her boss the message. Sorry, I don’t play that game.
“I’ll keep calling,” I tell her.
Now, honestly, I’m not so egotistical that I expect any government official to drop whatever they are doing and take my call. I’ve been in the newspaper industry long enough to understand that government officials are, truly, busy.
But being busy is one thing.
Openness in government is another.
Because it shouldn’t matter why I, or any taxpayer for that matter, makes a call. Each of us contributes and each of us should be allowed to question those leaders that we elect and hire to work for us.
There should be no screen.
Whether I’m an investigative reporter or a waitress at a local restaurant, the laws apply equally. Those laws are known as the Open Meeting and the Open Record Acts and they, along with our state’s Constitution, are the foundation for transparency in government.
Openness in government doesn’t rest on the shoulders of a personal assistant with an attitude problem. Instead, it’s a concept that acknowledges the government, which serves us, is available to us all.
And that “out” city official?
I finally talked to him.
I called him on his cell phone, while he was driving from one meeting to the next.
“You can call me at the office,” he said. “I’m usually there.”
“I couldn’t get through the thought police,” I told him. “So I’ll just use your cell number. That way, the communication between us is direct and open and there’s not a third party involved.”
Comments
I once called the interim president on his cell phone. He was eating dinner. He asked for me to call his office, and then he hung up.