Finding Purpose Emma Lavetter-Keidan

Brrring! In a flash my hand grabs the phone from its receiver: “Assemblyman Ortiz’s office, how can I help you?” I say, clasping the phone against my shoulder, so both hands can aid me as I struggle to open a drawer that has now become an adamant opponent in my search for a pen. Out of the corner of my eye I see Fran thunk down a stack of manilla envelopes, each full to the point of bursting, just as the person on the phone begins dictating his number. “Take to the mailroom,” Fran mouths. I press the phone into my ear in order to hear what is being said over the clamor of the office door swinging open. Three men appear, carrying in with them an animated argument about the New York City minimum wage. Content, I lean back in my chair.

This is how I want to spend my days: working alongside people who want solve the same problems I do. Looking down at my notes for a press release I’ve researched and the mailing information for a new piece of legislation, I feel useful. I thrive here, immersed in the constant high energy environment, the endless stream of tasks, and the feeling that with each article I file I might be making a difference. “Working for the government is a thankless job. No one is going to be there to pat you on the...