Chapter 2
She parked her car, filled with two suitcases, a garment bag, a half-eaten bag of Doritos and an empty bottle of Mountain Dew along Webster Street a few minutes before noon on Tuesday. She'd hoped to drive straight through the nineteen hours to Manchester so she could check into a cheap hotel and shower before finding her way to the campaign headquarters early that morning, but it was February and snow had slowed her trip significantly. She'd finally given up and found a Motel 6 in a small town east of Syracuse, New York a little after eleven and had called it a night, leaving at five the next morning for the last five hours of the journey.
She pulled the rearview mirror down and checked her make-up again before opening the door to get out. The wind blew in harshly, hitting her face and causing tears to spring to her eyes, and she shut the door and rooted around the backseat for her winter coat. Pulling it on the best she could while seated, she opened the door again and got out.
Adjusting and zipping the coat, she looked both ways before crossing the street to the building front with several 'Bartlet for America' signs in the windows. There was a white banner draped high across the entryway, and she assumed it said the same thing, but couldn't be sure as it flapped wildly in the biting winter breeze. When she opened the door to walk inside, a chime rang that reminded her of an old country store.
She stood there a moment waiting for someone to offer to help her, but no one did, so she wandered over to a table along the wall that had some brochures and buttons haphazardly thrown on it and a cardboard box on one end. Glancing inside the box, she saw bumper stickers and more buttons, as well as some t-shirts and yard signs. She looked around once more at people wandering about oblivious to her presence, then shrugged and reached inside for a bumper sticker.
"Before you do that, can you do me a favor?"
Ripping her hand out of the box and holding it behind her back like a child with a cookie, she spun around to face a woman with red hair. "I…" she stammered, trailing off as the words was just about to steal a bumper sticker echoed in her mind.
The woman smiled politely but looked rushed, as if the last thing she had time to do was worry about a bumper sticker. "Yes, that's great; the table does need set up. But if you could distribute these first, before they're done with their meeting, it'd be a huge help," she said as she handed Donna a stack of papers.
Donna looked down at the papers and back up at the woman. "What…"
"There are names on everything. Just put it on their desks," she said as she backed away while marking something down on a clipboard. She turned around and started walking off. "Oh, and there should be a table cloth in the storage room for that table," she said without looking back.
Donna stared after the woman's retreating form and then dumbly down at the stack of papers and mail in her hands. She bit her lip and looked around once again, wondering if anyone could tell her where to find Toby Ziegler's desk, then, figuring it couldn't be too hard, walked off towards a group of desks near the center of the room.
She smiled as she walked, nodding hello to people she passed, doing her best to look as if she belonged. She quickly formed a plan; deliver what was in her hand, find a table cloth and arrange the table in the front, then find the redheaded woman and get more work to do while casually mentioning that she was a new volunteer. Certainly they wouldn't turn her away once she'd already started.
She reached a group of desks, disappointed not to find any names on them, then turned abruptly when she heard a familiar voice. Her eyes popped open and a rush of excitement hit her at the site of Governor Bartlet, sitting on the edge of a desk fifteen feet from her talking to several people. She itched to go closer, to listen in on the conversation, but stayed put, barely able to make out the sound of voices.
She watched, mesmerized, for a minute, already looking forward to calling her mom that night and telling her she saw the governor. That she stood fifteen feet from him. For a fleeting second she thought that maybe if she made herself look busy enough, she could wait there until the meeting was finished, and then just kind of bump into him and introduce herself. Then she looked down at the things in her hand and remembered the plan.
She continued on, wandering around until she came to an area near the back that seemed to be set apart by filing cabinets, a copier, and a brown cardboard sign hanging from the ceiling by two strings that read 'COMMUNICATIONS.' There were three desks in the area, two facing each other and the other in a corner next to a television and a shorter filing cabinet with an inbox on top of it that read 'PRESS'. Someone was making copies at the copier, but the area was otherwise empty, and she walked towards it hoping to find Toby Ziegler's desk.
The first desk she came to had a white piece of paper taped to the side that read 'Sam Seaborn,' but the desk across from it was what she was looking for. A similar piece of paper read 'Toby Ziegler,' although someone had crossed it out with red ink and written 'Oscar the Grouch' underneath it. She smiled as much from the joke as from the fact that she'd found where she was going. Leafing through the stack of things in her hand, she paused at something for Sam Seaborn before continuing to pull out several things for Toby and placing them in the center of the neatly arranged desk. Then she pulled out a few things for Sam Seaborn and placed them on his desk, pausing to look at a picture of a man and woman in front of a Christmas tree.
Her pile somewhat smaller, she moved to the third desk. Taped to the wall it faced was another white piece of paper that read 'C.J. Cregg.' She went through her pile of things once again and by the time she'd placed CJ's things into the inbox next to the desk, she had only one more desk to find: Josh Lyman.
She left the communications area and continued wandering around until she came to a small over-crowded office. Taped to the entrance was a sign like the others that read 'Josh Lyman.' She raised her eyebrows, figuring him to be pretty important if he warranted an office, and walked inside and looked around. It was cluttered with boxes and there was an odor that while not overpowering, was definitely present, and she cringed, thinking maybe he wasn't important at all; maybe people just didn't want to work around his mess. Walking towards his desk, she tripped and looked down at a file folder with its contents spilling out. She picked it up, looked at the 'SOCIAL SECURITY' written in all caps across the front of it, and placed it along with the rest of her pile on the desk, then immediately picked it up, wondering if he'd even notice it in the chaos. Looking around for another option, she finally put everything on his chair and turned back to straighten the desk up a bit. She started by making piles; one for folders, one for messages, one for what was probably notes but looked more like doodling, and in the center, everything she'd brought in. She noticed his calendar opened to February 7th, several things crossed out or scribbled over and a post-it note stuck to the page that said, "Must get Peters." The shrill sound of the phone ringing scared her in the quiet room and she dropped the calendar on top of the pile. She walked towards the doorway, looking around for someone to answer it, and when she saw that no one was near, she bit her lip and looked at the phone as it rang a third and then fourth time. She hesitated until the fifth ring before answering it, "Bartlet for America; Josh Lyman's office."
As a man asked her a question, she reached over the desk looking for something on which to write a message. She found a clean post-it note and grabbed his calendar for something hard to write on, then sat on the corner of the desk and focused on the call.
"Josh Lyman? Uh, no, he's not available right now."
"He wants to meet with me about Jeffrey Peters. I'm going to be in town today and tomorrow. Do you know if he's available this afternoon?"
"This afternoon?" 'Must get Peters.' She looked down at the calendar in her hands, trying to make sense of it. It was a wonder this guy got anything done. "Uh, he's got a media session, and then a four o'clock with finance." At least, that's what she was guessing by the scrawling in the calendar.
"Well, that's not going to work. Tomorrow it is then."
"If you leave your name I can give Josh the message when he gets back," she said as she mentally reminded herself that she didn't know who this Josh guy was.
"Mark Richards. He can get me at the Embassy Suites downtown."
She wrote it down while nodding slightly. "Thank you very much." She hung up the phone and finished writing down the message while debating whether or not she should just find a phone book and get the number to the Embassy Suites so it'd be ready for this Josh guy when he wanted it. He seemed to need all the help he could get. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, and looking up, her eyes widened as a man wearing a horrible plaid shirt stood in the doorway staring at her.
"Hi."
She smiled. "Hi."
"Who are you?"
She paused, wondering if she was about to be in trouble. "I'm Donna Moss, who are you?"
He stared at her dumbfounded. "I'm Josh Lyman."
"Ahh..."
"Yes."
And then she had a brilliant idea. "I'm your new assistant."
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"You need this," he said, walking into his office with a manila envelope a few minutes after he'd agreed to hire her and then had left without a word of what she should do. She took it from him and he walked around her and sat down at his desk.
"Ok," she said, opening it and looking inside. "What is it?"
He looked at his desk for a second, confused. "There's a fundraiser in… what happened to my desk?"
Her head snapped up. "I was just... I thought it might be easier to find things on it this way."
He continued staring at it for a few seconds before picking up a stack of messages and handing them to her without looking up. "We need to return these calls once we're on the bus. And here," he said, holding the stack of things she'd put there earlier. "We'll go through this too."
She nodded and put the messages in her pocket before peeling a post-it note off his calendar. "Mark Richards called about Jeffrey Peters."
He looked up at her. "He did? When?"
"Just a few minutes ago, before you…" she gestured to the campaign badge around her neck. "He's only in town today and tomorrow. Also, what should I do about your media session and meeting with finance?"
He thought for a minute before answering. "We'll do the media session on the bus with CJ. Cancel finance." She nodded and grabbed a pad of paper off his desk, writing it down even as she wondered who finance was.
"What about Mark Richards? Your post-it note says you have to get Peters," she said, holding it up for him to see.
"I do, but…" he raked his hand over his face and through his hair and she had to stop herself from laughing at the way it made his hair stick up. "We're leaving in an hour and a half." He looked up at her. "Are you packed?"
"Umm… I'm not actually unpacked yet, so yeah. I can call him; see if he can meet you now."
"I can't, I've got to get this stuff…" he gestured to the shelves of boxes and then looked back at her with a grin. "Yes I can. And do you know why I can?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Because I'm going to get those boxes ready for the trip?"
He nodded. "Because you're going to get those boxes ready for the trip." He stood up and started looking around for something. "Call him, tell him I'm on my way to… where is he?"
"He's staying at the Embassy Suites downtown," she said, handing him his keys from the filing cabinet by the door.
He nodded. "I'm on my way there. Call him and tell him. And stay by the phone. I'm calling you in five minutes."
With that, he was gone. She stood staring at the empty doorway wondering what had just happened for several seconds. He'd only been in the room for about a minute and a half, but suddenly she had a ton to do and no time in which to do it, which she figured was ok since she didn't know how to do most of what she was supposed to do anyway. A feeling of dread came over her and she wondered if perhaps she should've stuck with the table arranging and talking to the redhead plan.
And then she smiled. She wasn't sure why, but she was standing in an empty office smiling. She spun around once, facing the desk again, and the smile got bigger. She shook her head and then, hoping there was a phone book in the office somewhere, started going through the desk drawers. Most of them were empty and she chuckled, figuring that's why the top was so full. She found a dusty phone book that was obviously unused in the bottom drawer and looked up the Embassy Suites. A minute later, she hung up the phone and mumbled to herself. "One down."
She put the phonebook away and grabbed the message she'd taken for the press department. Remembering the inbox in the Communications corner of the building, she walked quickly there. The infamous Toby Ziegler was sitting at his desk and she glanced down at the sign with his name on it, thinking he did look a little like Oscar the Grouch. He didn't look up at her, and she put the message in the press inbox and headed back towards Josh's office.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to the metal shelves in the back of the office and looked in a box. It was full of files that had obviously been shoved into it in no order. Some were right side up and others were on their sides, and most of them had wrinkled papers and scribbled on post-it notes sticking out of them. Some had things written in ink on them, and they all had a topic written in capital letters with a sharpie on them.
The second box looked the same, as did the third. The fourth box was like the other three, except that instead of a topic written across the front, each folder had a name and state. She pulled a moderately full folder labeled 'GARY HAMILTON, INDIANA' out of the box just as the phone rang, and carried it with her to the desk as she answered. "Bartlet for America, Josh…" She stopped talking and her eyes widened in mortification.
After a second of silence, she heard a chuckle. "Lyman."
"Yes! Josh Lyman's office."
"Donna, this is Josh."
She cringed and wondered if she was about to be fired. "Oh… hi."
"You forgot my name?"
"Just your last name," she said weakly. "I remembered the Josh part."
"So, you only forgot half my name," he said, chuckling at her.
She winced and closed her eyes tightly in humiliation. "Well, in my defense, I've only known you for twenty minutes."
"Yet I know that your name's Donna Moss."
"But you asked me my name like five times," she said emphatically.
"So I wouldn't forget it later."
"Right."
"Did you talk to Mark?"
"He's waiting for you in the hotel restaurant."
"Have you started on the boxes?"
Her eyes widened. "Just. Do they all need to come with us?"
"All of the issues folders need to come, including the ones on my desk. One box is full of names; bring any folders for North or South Carolina, and… I don't know, other states around there."
"Tennessee and Georgia?"
"Sure, you know that, but do you know my name?"
She couldn't help laughing. "It's Jared or something like that, right?"
"Funny. Did you cancel my meeting with finance?"
"Not yet. Who exactly is finance?"
"Find Margaret, tall redhead. She'll get you a list of campaign staff. Tell her I lost my campaign badge and need a new one, and make sure she knows you're going on the bus. Oh, and tell her you're the contact for the fundraiser on Friday."
"I am?"
"Yeah, I gave you the envelope."
She looked over at the chair where the envelope sat. "Got it."
"Go over it. We'll talk about it on the bus."
"Ok."
"Alright. I'll be back in forty-five minutes. I'll be the tall good looking guy. Try to recognize me when I come in."
"I'll do my best." She hung up and started pulling files out of the box on his desk, once again and inexplicable smile on her face.