Well, that was the strangest job interview ever.

A few weeks ago, someone slyly asked me if I'd be writing about the campaign experience, and I vigorously nodded. Of course, a campaign has so much fodder for a series of columns, and now the call can come from inside the house. Or better, I'm calling from the porch of the house of mirrors that I've been wandering around in for a few months.

And it was mirrors that I stood up against. They were held up while you were asked to encapsulate your identity and values into something palatable, comprehensible and purposeful — something that sounded like something a politician would say, but in a... good way?

I had a tough time adapting to that. I also had a hard time with my face on things.

Once, while I handed out a walk card at the door, a lady took it, squinted and told me, "This looks nothing like you."

"It's that wind in my hair," I told her, pointing to my ponytail, "and a strong inner urge to run away that was apparent on my face."

I had plenty of those urges, and it was my support system that grew organically around me that made me not walk into the desert. They believed in me when I had no belief in myself, and everything seemed reversed and inauthentic. A friend early on asked, "If this were a job you could interview for, would you do it?"

Yes, I would have. I knew how I built my personal resume: going to long city meetings, having a genuine interest in people, and a not-often-contained desire to ask more questions.

In an election recap meeting last night, I stewed on what I would say as we faced the heavy loss of candidates who didn't make it across the finish line. What I ended up going with, as other speakers spoke things in my heart, was remembering where I was at the beginning and where I was now.

"I decided early that I wasn't going to run my race with fear or use a rhetoric of anger, but create a sincere belief in our ability to create a better future," I said.

There was a lot of fearful and angry rhetoric. On the one hand, it's understandable when citizens and businesses are victims of crime and when they are entrenched in the echo chambers of social media that tell us that we live in the prequel to "Mad Max." On the other hand, when some of those same voices used a quote and picture of Hitler in their newsletter, my belief in their goodwill evaporated.

When it wasn't that egregious of an example, there was the misinformation that rose to the surface just because I like to Google things. It turns out that an organization didn't exist, nor did a certain degree. They claimed things with their whole chest they didn't do. It was frustrating because I should have said I had been the mayor of Hoodwinkle, Colorado, 20 years ago. It was a great time; the roads were paved with gold. Hell, I paved those roads myself. Uphill, both ways, carrying a younger brother I don't have.

But those are not the stories I want to tell in four years. I'd like to point to how collaborative action created a better city for all its residents. A new colleague of mine referenced political imagination — the deep, genuine desire to build a better world for everyone and not at the expense of those who are vulnerable.

Imagination and relentless optimism are skills that can break apart the slog against fear and anger. But, once elected, ideas are not just abstract concepts, empathy is a strength and compassion can serve as a tool for leadership.

Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at [email protected]. To find out more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Kyle Glenn at Unsplash