America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

For the next two hours, the interviews went on one after another.

Sean used the same standards to screen every applicant. He didn't care how high their education level was or how loud their slogans were; he only cared about one thing: what practical value could you bring to the team?

Ultimately, he selected seven people from more than twenty applicants.

"Alright, that concludes today's recruitment," Sean announced. "The seven of you who are hired, please return at 2 PM for a brief onboarding meeting. The rest of you, thank you for your participation. We will contact you again if a suitable opportunity arises in the future."

The job applicants left one by one, leaving only Sean, Matthew, and Sarah in the meeting room.

"Mr. Pan, what you just said was really good," Sarah said while tidying up the resumes on the table. "'After overturning the table, someone has to clean up the mess.' I'm going to write that down and post it on Twitter." (X is truly the worst software name in history; the author will use Twitter by default from now on.)

"Don't post it," Sean said self-deprecatingly. "It's too down-to-earth, it doesn't fit my sophisticated persona."

"Where did you get this high-class persona from..." Sarah muttered under her breath.

Matthew then walked over to Sean and whispered:

"Mr. Pan, now that we've recruited so many people, the issue of funding must be addressed."

"I know." Sean nodded, his expression turning solemn.

"These people all need to be paid, even if it's just a basic living allowance. Add to that the rent for office space, the cost of printing promotional materials, the cost of organizing events..." Matthew counted on his fingers, "Conservatively speaking, it will cost at least $100,000 a month."

"One hundred thousand?" Sarah gasped. "Do we even have that much money in our account?"

"No," Matthew shook his head. "Most of the money Musk gave us has been used up, and our cash flow is very tight right now."

Sean was silent for a moment. Did he really have to go back to reselling secondhand pizzas?

Putting aside the motives of the prisoner, he was indeed very generous in this regard, but he had almost run out of what he had given before, and the new $500,000 had already been spent on Carlos.

Moreover, his money was essentially a private donation to Sean personally and could not be publicly used for campaign activities. According to Federal Election Commission rules, the maximum amount an individual can donate to an independent candidate is $3,300 per election cycle. Exceeding this amount is illegal.

“We can’t always rely on Musk,” Sean said. “He’s supporting me personally, not my campaign. And if someone gets a handle on me and says I’m a ‘billionaire’s puppet,’ then all the grassroots image I’ve built up will be ruined.”

At the very least, he can't let anyone find out, right? Otherwise, his opponents will definitely create memes of him licking Musk's ass!

"Then what should we do?" Sarah asked. "Find other investors?"

"No, we're going to start doing small donations," Sean decided.

"A small donation?" Matthew's eyes lit up.

So-called small donations are an increasingly popular model in American political fundraising. Instead of relying on large donations from a few wealthy individuals, candidates raise small amounts of money from ordinary people through online platforms, typically ranging from ten, twenty, or fifty dollars per person.

The most successful examples of this model are the two Democrats in 2008 and 2016:

Obama and Bernie Sanders.

During his campaign, Obama raised over $500 million through small donations, most of which came from individual donations of no more than $200. His campaign team used email lists and social media to turn fundraising into a nationwide movement.

Sanders took this model to new heights. In his 2016 and 2020 campaigns, he refused funding from any super PACs, relying entirely on grassroots donations. His average donation was only $27, yet he raised hundreds of millions of dollars.

The advantages of this model are obvious: it not only solves the funding problem, but also enhances voters' sense of participation and belonging.

After all, when an ordinary person takes out their own money to support a candidate, they are no longer just a bystander, but a stakeholder.

"The key to small donations is to build an efficient online fundraising platform and a large email list of supporters," Matthew analyzed. "While we currently have a considerable number of Twitter and YouTube followers, it's still an unknown number how many core supporters are truly willing to spend money."

"Furthermore," he added, "small donations require professional management. What kind of emails to send, when to send them, what kind of wording to use to encourage donations... there are many nuances to this. Our team currently does not have experts in this area."

"Who said there isn't?"

A strong, resonant voice came from the doorway.

The sound made Sean and Matthew turn their heads at the same time, only to see an old man with a full head of white hair standing in the doorway, smiling at the two bewildered young men.

It was none other than George Kelly.

"Mr. Kelly?" Matthew asked, somewhat surprised. "What brings you here?"

"I heard you're hiring." Kelly stepped into the office, surveying the sparsely furnished surroundings. "So I wanted to see if your elite team needs a campaign manager?"

Sean looked at Kelly, while secretly glancing at the numbers above his head.

【70】.

"Mr. Kelly," Sean said with a polite smile, "you just said you understand small donations?"

“It’s more than just knowing.” Kelly sat down in a chair, crossed his legs, and said, “Back in 1984, when Jesse Jackson was running for president for the first time, I was still in school and participated in his fundraising campaign in Pennsylvania. There was no internet back then, so we relied on church donation boxes and phone marathons. We could make three hundred calls a night and raise several thousand dollars.”

"Later, during Obama's 2008 campaign, even though I had retired, I still participated in fundraising in Pennsylvania as an advisor." Kelly's eyes shone. "I witnessed firsthand how small donations changed American politics. It was a revolution, kids. A real revolution."

Matthew glanced at Sean, his eyes questioning: Do we really want to use this guy?

Sean did not respond immediately.

"Mr. Kelly," he began, "since you're applying for the campaign manager position, I'd like to conduct a brief interview with you. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Kelly smiled. "Young man, feel free to ask."

"My first question: Your political experience over the past forty years has primarily been within the democratic system. I, on the other hand, am an independent candidate with no affiliation to the democratic party. Are you sure you can adapt to this shift?"

“Why not?” Kelly replied. “I joined that party because, back then, they were the only mainstream party willing to listen to the voices of the grassroots. But over the years, that party has become more and more like an elite club, drifting further and further away from the groups they originally represented.”

"And you, Pan? What do you represent?"

"I speak for myself," Sean answered without hesitation. "Or rather, I speak for all those who are dissatisfied with the status quo but cannot find a sense of belonging between the two parties."

"Good answer." Kelly nodded. "That's why I'm here."

"Second question," Sean continued, "Matthew told me you had some... radical political experiences when you were younger. Do you still hold those beliefs?"

Kelly remained silent for a moment.

"Are you asking me if I'm still a communist?" He looked directly at Sean.

"I'm asking you whether your political beliefs will conflict with my campaign goals."

"Do you have political beliefs?" Kelly asked, as if he had heard a joke, but the numbers above his head did not change.

"Yes, sir," Sean said.

“Okay, let me tell you something.” Kelly’s tone became serious. “When I was young, I did believe in some radical ideas. I thought that only by completely overthrowing the existing system could true equality be achieved. Back then, I was passionate, naive, and foolish.”

"But in 1985, the Philadelphia police bombed the headquarters of the MOVE organization. I watched as the fire killed eleven people, five of whom were children. From that day on, I understood one thing: an idea without real power to support it will only bring destruction."

"So I chose to compromise. I joined the Democracy Party, learning how to operate within the system, how to use votes and lobbying to drive change..."

"As for what I believe in now?" Kelly looked at Sean. "I believe in pragmatism. I believe in winning strategies. I believe in beating my opponents within the existing rules."

Are you satisfied with this answer?

Sean did not answer immediately.

He simply watched the old man quietly, trying to read more from his eyes.

"One last question, Mr. Kelly," Sean began.

Why did you choose me?

"Philadelphia has plenty of politicians, plenty of candidates, plenty of people you can align yourself with. Why me, a former Hollywood star with an uncertain future, embroiled in lawsuits, and whose career could collapse at any moment?"

"Because you have something that career politicians don't have," Kelly said with a smile.

"What is it?"

But then he began to explain in detail:

"In 1958, I was twelve years old. That year, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, Robert Kennedy was assassinated, and the Chicago Democratic National Convention turned into a riot. The whole country was burning, and everyone was asking the same question: What do we do next?"

There was once a group of people who believed that revolution was just around the corner. They thought that if they gave it one more push, the old world would collapse.

"But they were wrong, and we who took up their banner were wrong too." Kelly turned to look at Sean. "The bigwigs didn't come. Instead, Nixon and Reagan came, a resurgence of forty years of conservatism. The ideals of our generation were crushed under the wheels of history."

"So, I choose you, not because you are some kind of savior, nor because I believe you can change this place."

"I chose you because you remind me of my younger self. The self that dared to challenge everything, regardless of the consequences."

"Perhaps you will fail, just like we did back then. But at least you have shown me a possibility: this stagnant political system may not have completely lost the chance to be shaken."

"For that reason alone, I'm willing to accompany you for a while."

After listening to his lyrical expression, Matthew looked at Kelly, then at Sean, unsure of what to say.

Sean lowered his head, seemingly deep in thought.

It took him a while to raise his head.

"Mr. Kelly, that's a very nice thing to say," Sean said, "but I can't give you an answer right now."

"Oh?" Kelly raised an eyebrow.

"I need time to think about it," Sean said frankly. "Campaign manager is a core position that requires absolute trust. I don't know you well enough yet. And..."

"Furthermore, I need to confirm one thing: do you genuinely want to help me, or do you want to use me to complete your own unfinished business? There's a difference between the two."

The worst thing is that some people look like puppets, but are actually puppeteers.

Kelly looked at Sean, a hint of approval flashing in her eyes.

"You're very cautious. That's a good thing," he said. "Then I'll wait for your news."

After saying that, he took a business card out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Here's my contact information. Call me anytime you've decided. But don't keep me waiting too long, Pan. Someone as old-fashioned as me might be in the grave any day now."

Sean looked at the simple handwriting on the business card. "You said you never remember your phone number, but you didn't mention you have a business card?"

"Ha ha!"

"What are you laughing at...?"