They’re the Proud, the Few, the Unnecessary

The president and the first lady attended 14 inaugural balls on the evening of Jan. 20. Time did not allow, however, for their attendance at the “Nonessential Government Employees Bash.”

This was distressing and anti-climactic to the room of invited functionaries, but few took the news as badly as Henrique Babson, federal grain inspector.

In 1983, Babson applied for and received the coveted nonessential status, and in ensuing years he and several colleagues would become a significant force in labor relations. By 1987, they had merged with the venerable “Nonproductive Alliance,” utilizing its vast resources and marquee value.

Nonessential / Productive (NEP) was the brainchild of Babson cohort Daneth Capitano. Capitano had worked in the U.S. postal system for 35 years, the last 35 of which were spent providing ZIP codes for a forgetful caller named Hank.

Capitano, too, had once been considered “essential” but craftily jettisoned that moniker by hiring the same negotiators used by the Baseball Umpires Assn.

Another founding member of NEP was Garyeth Moser, who worked at the Federal Aviation Weather Center. His sole responsibility was to warn pilots of clear-air turbulence and, if he spotted a mountain, he was encouraged to speak up as well. Moser earned his nonessential certificate by lobbying the FAA for a national radar system that could run for 12 hours at a shot.

Nelson Padachek was the last of the four to join NEP. He had enjoyed a much-heralded career as a U.S. Bankruptcy clerk. Unlike the others, he loved his work. Even as a child, he had cataloged the names of livid creditors; the job suited him. Padachek was initially dismissive of NEP, but one November morning, he neglected to write down, “. . . says he’ll pay as soon as money comes in.” The oversight had no consequences, and Padachek came face to face with his dispensable self. He joined NEP that day.

In 1995, the nonproductives splintered off as new opportunities arose in the private sector. Most landed at AOL customer support.

Throughout the year, membership continued to dwindle at the newly renamed “Nonessential Government Employees & Racquet Club.”

By fall of 1996, only the original four members remained. If enrollment dipped any further, the group would no longer qualify for Firestone’s “Buy three tires, get the fourth one free” offer. That, alone, had kept Moser in the fold.

Babson soon engineered a membership drive. The four members flew to Washington to find the next generation of nonessential government employees.

Dec. 17 was another in a series of discouraging days. Unfortuitously, Babson approached an administrator for the federal student loan program at the very moment the year’s first payment arrived. The administrator found the sudden success “intoxicating” and distanced himself from the nonessentials who surrounded him.

Finally, on Jan. 19, Babson sent out the following invitation to capital luminaries:

“The Nonessential Government Employees & Racquet Club Inaugural Ball will be held on Jan. 20, 1997, at 12:05 p.m., concurrent with the swearing-in.

“Nonessential employees who choose to attend and not work that day will still be paid for a full eight hours and not be required to make up that time--pursuant to the 1877 Logic vs. Snow Day ruling.

“Attire: Limp Arrow Shirt Only, Please.”

The only ones who attended that day were the nonessential founding fathers. They drank and danced until 3 in the morning. The place seemed terribly empty. They’d rented a cavernous room on the second floor of the Department of Labor--the same room that housed the database for all of the nation’s bun-related jobs.

Disappointed, Babson and his colleagues trudged out to the street. But their despondency soon ended when Padachek turned to Moser and said: “Hey look, it’s snowing!”