Staff Infections of the Campaign Kind

During a political race, a staff person's good intentions often not only will pave the road to campaign hell but also erect signs that all but scream, "Gotcha Up Ahead" and "YouTube Calamity, Next Right."

Take what happened last week to Barack Obama.

Two campaign volunteers, in separate incidents at a recent event in Detroit, ordered Muslim women wearing head scarves to stay out of camera range during Obama's speech. The women in head scarves were Obama supporters, but in the eyes of these volunteers, they weren't the right kind of supporters. This didn't sit well with the Muslim women. As it turned out, it was a tack on the seat for Obama, too.

The official response was predictable:

"This is, of course, not the policy of the campaign," Obama spokesman Bill Burton told Politico.com. "It is offensive and counter to Obama's commitment to bring Americans together and simply not the kind of campaign we run. We sincerely apologize for the behavior of these volunteers."

The volunteers probably thought they were protecting Obama from another round of viral e-mails questioning his religion. The only other people willing to do something so wrongheaded would be campaign staffers who think they are actually paid to act like masters of the universe.

We are bound to see this scenario unfold time and again during this presidential campaign season: Overzealous staffers take the future of the Free World into their own hands, and the candidate ends up taking the hit. As he should, for that is the nature of politics in America. We are a complicated electorate. We don't really want a micromanaging maniac for a president, but we also don't want him to be the kind of guy who can't manage his underlings.

The best-oiled campaign machine still can't control every cog in it. Usually, that's OK because most staffers, both volunteer and paid, are true believers, dedicated and self-sacrificing Americans who feel that standing on the sidelines ought to be a felony. They tend to have permanent mailing addresses and relationships with regular people willing to remind them that it really isn't normal to wear somebody else's name on your chest for months on end.

But just as public pools attract commando lifeguards, political campaigns also attract captain wannabes.

The tiniest bit of authority turns them into self-appointed generals who think double-checking with supervisors is for wusses.

How else to explain what recently happened to Cindy McCain?

Her "favorite family recipes" were posted on her husband's campaign Web site; only it turned out they were pilfered from other people's families. A chicken recipe, for example, was word-for-word from cooking guru Rachael Ray. After the press found out, Mrs. McCain said the plagiarizing intern was sent straight to "Betty Crocker boot camp."

It seems to me this media debacle could have been avoided had anyone in the campaign worked up the gumption to ask the candidate's wife for real family recipes or at least told her what they were up to. But there I go again, insisting that women be treated as something other than props or problems.

Maybe the issue is how campaigns screen potential workers. Perhaps everyone should have to answer some basic questions:

— True or false: A lie doesn't count unless you're caught. On video.

— It's OK to offend a candidate's supporters as long as (a) they're not related to the candidate; (b) they aren't high-end donors to the candidate; (c) they can't fire you; or (d) you're way overqualified for this job anyway.

— You've just been deputized to pass out signs at campaign rallies, but you think you should be deputy campaign manager. Describe in 100 words or fewer how you will systematically undermine and discredit the long list of other staffers who actually deserve the job.

Maybe a quiz isn't practical in the crush of daily campaigning. So here's a little cheat sheet for campaign staffers everywhere:

It's not supposed to be about you.

And when it is, it's almost always bad news.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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