Why?

You know how annoying it can get when a child hits that age when it seems like every other word out of his or her mouth is, “Why . . .?”  How they come up with questions that, for the life of you, you can’t figure out a good answer for or really even figure out where the question came from?  Well, I had that happen to me the other day, but it wasn’t a child asking the question, it was me.  And if you think it’s hard to figure out how to get the little brat to stop asking the why question, try getting your own mind to shut up!

Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

Late last week I received an e-mail from the Ambassador’s executive assistant.  I glanced at it and realized that it was addressed to me personally instead of to “Monrovia” (everyone at the US Embassy) or “Monrovia AID” (everyone at USAID) so I opened it up, because, when the Ambassador sends you an e-mail, you respond promptly (that is if you like your job - and I do).  “Ambassador Deborah Malac requests your presence . . .”  I guess I should just show you the attachment.

So I did what any Embassy employee does (who wants to keep his job - and I do), I RSVP’d and said yes.

The invitation made total sense to me at the time.  Proper protocol would have the Ambassador hold a reception for the USAID Mission Director and, given that the Ambassador was about to depart Liberia for a little over a month, and that Patricia would be leaving before the Ambassador got back, now was the time to have the party.  I thought little of it.

Then earlier this week an e-mail blast went out to pretty much everyone at USAID inviting them to dinner and drinks at Anglers (one of the nicer restaurants in town, with definitely the best view) on Thursday evening at 6:00 to say goodbye to several TDY-ers (temporary duty personnel) who had been helping out the economic growth team.  I saw the email and thought to myself - that seems odd, don’t I have something to do on Thursday (I knew I had something because every night this week was full of one thing or another - it’s been a very loooooonnnnnnggggg week).  Then I remembered - oh, I’ve got the Ambassador’s thing.  Then I thought, wait, the person who sent the e-mail - shouldn’t he be going to the Ambassador’s on Thursday too?  Then the replies started coming in (folks, one hint, when someone sends out an e-mail to a large group of people, don’t hit “reply all” - just hit “reply” unless you want everyone to know that “YOU” will be there, or “Great! Looking forward to it!” or “Count me in!”).  In this case though, it was more confusing than annoying because I kept seeing who was sending the reply e-mails and started asking myself, “Why in the hell aren’t they going to the Ambassador’s on Thursday?”  I guess the reality is, no you won’t lose your job if you said no, but if you’re a Foreign Service Officer (which I’m not), you really are expected to say yes.

Well, Monday got really busy so I couldn’t do any sleuthing as to why I was invited and those others weren’t (or why they said No to the RSVP).  Then, on Wednesday (Tuesday was a blur running from one meeting to the next) a colleague and I had a meeting with the Chief of Party of a project to discuss some land and programming issues during a working lunch (I’d brought brought lunch on Monday morning and I still hadn’t eaten it yet - I kept having to schedule meetings during lunch because . . . usually that time I’m free!).  As we finished discussing the issues we’d wanted to talk about, the topics moved to other issues.  At one point Mark turns to me and says, “Guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”  Given that I’ve picked up another project (huge! which is why I have so little time now) and my calendar went on the fritz just the day before so I almost missed a couple of meetings, I asked, “Are we meeting tomorrow?”, I’m sure with a totally confused look on my face.  Mark replied, “Well, aren’t you going to be at the Ambassor’s reception tomorrow night?” to which, at the same time, I said, “Oh, yes!” and Jennifer said, “What reception?”  To which I thought, “Wow, this is strange, why would I be invited and not Jennifer (who is an USDA employee assigned to the mission to work on forestry and community issues - which means we work a lot together on land problems).  Diplomatic person that Mark is, he quickly moved the topic onto something else and, well, we’re all too busy to revisit moments of confusion that aren’t related to work, so it didn’t come up.

Until the reception.  I looked at the invitation again before I headed over to make sure it said business attire and I was confident it was more than just a bunch of USAID people saying goodbye to Patricia.  This was a formal affair - not tuxedo formal, but formal enough.  This was not a party, it was a function and I had a role to play.  I guess you could call it an improvisational performance where I don’t know all the rules.  I thought back to the things my friend David told me at PRT Baghdad about these events - mingle, talk to people, don’t stay with anyone too long and stay until the ambassador leaves (which, given it was at her residence, means stay until all the real “guests” leave).  I also set some rules for myself - I won’t be the first one there (i.e. don’t arrive 10 minutes early), I won’t be the first one to the food table (no matter how hungry I was) and I won’t leave early (despite the fact that is my usual inclination at parties).

Well, it was what I expected.  It quickly grew to a fairly large crowd of people that occupied the open hall (think palatial-sized) second floor of the Ambassador’s residence.  Some US Embassy employees, Government of Liberia Officials and International Donor Community Partners.  I chatted, I mingled, and then I saw a State Department colleague approach the bar - Sonata, an economics officer and the mother of the cutest baby at the mission (makes me miss Pen every time I see her).  I got in line behind Sonata, “Hey, Sonata, this is the first time I’ve done anything like this.  Is it ok to drink alcohol?”  She replied, “Dan, that’s the only way to get through these kinds of things.”  Then she ordered a beer (one of the reasons I like her, not wine, but beer!  She says I should try to convince Deschutes Brewery to open up a Monrovia franchise but . . . I digress).  So I did too.

Now, in between mingling and chatting with people, and sometimes even while chatting with people, my brain kept observing who from the US Embassy was there, and who was not.  And every four or five seconds my brain kept asking me, “Why the hell am I here?”  As one would expect, there was the top 4 people in the State Department.  There were the top 4 people from USAID.  I’d say there were three more State Department folks as well.  Then there was one other team leader (Education) from USAID, and then there was me.  Looked at another way, I was the only non-Foreign Service Officer there.  So why me?

I dutifully stayed until the end of the reception, and said goodbye with several other embassy folks.  I walked back towards the residences with John Ellis, the head of the planning office, and Charles Egu, our comptroller, both very senior management (i.e. the top 4).  As we approached one of the gates to leave the old embassy compound I said, “Hey John, I’ve got a question.  Why was I invited to this thing tonight?”  He said, “What do you mean?”  I replied, “Think about it, I’m a PSC, I’m an acting deputy team leader, but there were team leaders who weren’t here.”  He joked, “That’s because they weren’t invited.”  As we walked back, Charles and John started coming up with all sorts of ideas as to why I was invited and others weren’t.  Most of them centered around points such as, that someone put me on the list they wouldn’t have to go, or Dan’s a sucker, we’ll stick him with it, or here’s a way to screw Dan over and there’s nothing he can do about it!  We never came up with a rational reason for why I was invited and others weren’t, but at least we got a few laughs out of it.  

So why?  Sometimes it still pops into my mind.