I'm kidding.  

But my conflict of interest surely begs the question: how could I have been so two-faced, so hypocritical to have been working publicly for John Edwards as a shadow Clintonista?

In truth, it all started out rather innocently:  I was looking to fulfill my school's graduation requirement to complete a summer internship.  The Edwards campaign, with its Chapel Hill, NC headquarters just in my neck of the woods, seemed to be a sure bet for a political internship.  In early 2007, though, I was unsure just how competitive those summer placements would be, so I decided to get a leg up by volunteering in my spare time.

It started as grunt work--sorting e-mails, in fact.  As tedious and mindless as that task sounds, I didn't mind it one bit.  That's because my initial job, surprisingly enough, was actually unrelated to the campaign: I was sorting Elizabeth Edwards' e-mails, making them managable for her own future use.  And March 22, the day John and Elizabeth announced the recurrence of her cancer (and their intention to continue the campaign nonetheless) was the day they came pouring in.  A daily influx of thousands of e-mails, categorized into General well-wishes, Survivors, Lost a loved one, Knows Elizabeth, and Remedies.  Sure, there were some crazies in there, especially in the remedies folder; but overall, it was uplifting to know that so many Americans--not just Edwards supporters--identified with the couple's struggle and praised their model commitment to each other.  (One e-mail, in particular, now stands out in my mind.  It said something to the effect of, "Forget the Republicans.  YOU are the embodiment of family values.")

But once my 'real work' began on the campaign, the feel-good glimmer of working for Elizabeth faded.  Though I tried to muster a decent portrayal of a enthusiastic John Edwards footsoldier, on the inside, I was a constant cynic.  The irrational exuberance of the office chatter ("We're going to take back the White House and change the world!") seemed all the more striking to me because I knew Edwards couldn't possibly win.  It was patently obvious that my boss was being smothered by two superstar candidates.  I remember my supervisor explaining to me the path to victory--drawing pie charts which showed Obama and Clinton self-destructing, leaving Edwards standing to reap the lion's share--as I sat silently nodding, but wanting vigorously to shake my head.  Not only did I consider the campaign a doomed enterprise, but I found myself critiquing Edwards' decision to call the war on terror "just a bumper sticker", bewildered that his $400 haircuts (why?) would have come out of campaign funds only to be made public, disappointed that he was paid $55,000 to speak about poverty. . . .among other things.

Meanwhile, my stock in Hillary Clinton rose.  I became a supporter only in stealth, obviously by virtue of my Edwards job, but also due to the exuberant pro-Obama mindset of my friends.  Especially as a 21 year-old male, Hillary Clinton was just not the person to support openly.  I won't get into my reasoning here, other than to say that I admired her hard-nosed pragmatism and was fond of (perhaps, the way I remembered) her husband's presidency.          

And today, I can honestly say there are parts of last year I  look fondly upon as well.  Just working on a national presidential campaign, certainly, was a priviledge I am grateful for.  Above is a photo of basketball legend Dean Smith, whom we met at John Edwards' birthday party.  

At the same time, it just didn't pan out.  For John Edwards, his staffers and his supporters, the campaign was a largely fruitless journey with no real destination in sight--save, perhaps, winning the so-called "idea primary".  Rather, just like Edwards' idea that having an affair as a presidential candidate could work, the idea of his campaign itself was a lesson in self-deception.        

I will leave you with the story I often tell:  One day last summer, the volunteer director announced to the interns that he had managed to get Edwards to speak to us that day for 45 minutes.  We waited, waited, and waited until the candidate finally showed up, only to leave after literally 20 seconds.  He said, almost verbatim, "You're gonna have fun this summer.  I'm gonna have fun this summer.  And by the end, I'm gonna be President!"

Unfortunately, only one of those three things happened that summer.  I had fun.  Sort of.

UPDATE: Okay, I admit it--two out of three is more like it. Edwards had some fun too...