Lame Duck, Sitting Duck, or Dead Duck: Three Ways the House Could Blow It After November

Every two years, voters fire a bunch of Members of Congress. Then those same Members come back to work for seven more weeks like nothing happened. It’s like getting dumped and still splitting the rent until the lease ends – in this case, January 3rd.

And this year they actually have stuff to do. The short term Continuing Resolution that Congress passed in September only funds the government through December 11. The same people who couldn’t pass a budget before the election get another shot after some of them got fired. You think they didn’t care before?  Republicans keep the gavels until January 3, nobody has a veto-proof majority, and the Senate still needs 60 votes for anything worth fighting about. So, lots of yelling, posturing, farewell speeches and not much passing.

Here’s how it could go, from most likely to least.

Scenario One: Democrats Take the House

This is where the smart money is. Republicans have about six weeks left with the Speaker’s gavel and their Committee Chairs, and the White House knows it, so expect a mad dash to jam through a big bill, lock in spending numbers, and confirm anybody with a pulse before the Democrats move in. Envision speed dating on…well…speed. The White House will call it finishing the job. Democrats will call it a robbery. They’ll both be on cable news tearing the other side apart.

Now try getting people to actually show up and vote for it.

Forget seniors on the last day of high school. These guys are five-year-olds on the last day of kindergarten. Twelve-year-olds on the last day of summer camp. The minute the last vote of the week is called, they’re sprinting down the Capitol steps with their backpacks open, papers flying everywhere. The figurative middle finger waving in the air. Leadership is standing on the floor yelling “one more vote!” at an empty room.

And that’s the ones who come back at all. Lose your race, especially one you thought you had in the bag, and getting off the couch gets harder every day. You were going to fly back Monday. Then Tuesday. Then you found a Law & Order marathon. Maybe you’ll come back to clean out your office. Maybe you’ll have your staff mail you your mounted bass and the family photos. Leadership’s whip count now has a column labeled “No Clue.”

The ones who do come back have to face the ultimate humiliation. Who else is in town that same week? The person who beat you, here for freshman orientation with a fresh haircut and a new lanyard. You’re going to pass each other in the Rayburn hallway. You’re going to wait for the same elevator. It’s more awkward than running into your ex at a cocktail party, because at least at the party you can leave or get wasted. You can’t leave and (in theory) you can’t get wasted. You have votes.

And you’re not even going back to your office, because you don’t have one anymore. Lose your race and the House doesn’t just show you the door. It changes the locks. Your office goes into the office lottery and, eventually to another Member, and you get shipped to a cubicle in the basement to finish your term. Same title, same pay, same voting card. Now with a desk lamp and a view of the vending machine. And if you lean in close at the 3 p.m. vote series, yes, that’s bourbon you smell. It’s five o’clock somewhere, and when you’re a lame duck, it’s five o’clock everywhere.

Oh, and your staff? The loyal team that stuck with you through three shutdowns and that one town hall? They love you. They also have D.C. rent to pay. Half of them were updating their résumés before the networks called your race. Wanna see how fast you get dropped? Ask your scheduler what you’re doing next Tuesday. She doesn’t know. She’s at an interview. The decent Members will understand this and do their best to help them land somewhere else, but don’t hold your breath.

Not that you’re any better. You’re job hunting too. You’re just doing it with a nicer title. Lots of departing members spend December figuring out how to cash in on K Street without technically breaking the one-year lobbying ban. You can’t lobby your old colleagues for a year, so you become a “senior strategic advisor.” Or a “distinguished fellow.” Or a “principal” at some firm with a conference room full of people who very definitely aren’t lobbying. 

You’ll just be at the lunch. You’ll just make the introduction. You’ll just happen to know which staffer to call, and then someone else will call them. The whole town knows exactly what’s going on, and nobody says it out loud. It’s the only job interview where the main qualification is “will be allowed to do this job in 12 months.”

Meanwhile, the winners are busy too. Not legislating. Campaigning. For committee seats. The big gavels are mostly spoken for, but every other slot is up for grabs, and members are working the cloakroom and the House floor like it’s student council. In fact…it’s already started. Somebody’s lobbying hard for a subcommittee nobody’s heard of. Somebody else wants to be vice chair of something that meets twice a year. There are leadership jobs with titles so obscure even the people running for them can’t explain what they do. Assistant to the Regional Manager, basically. They’ll still print new business cards.

Democrats will just sit back and run out the clock. Why cut a deal in December when you can have the gavel in January? Shutdown odds are higher than anybody’s saying on the record.

Scenario Two: Republicans Hold On

Long shot. But if it happens, Republicans will act like they won the Powerball. The White House will declare a mandate and send over a wish list, probably including a third party-line budget bill rammed through the week before Christmas. Nothing says “the people have spoken” like a 2 a.m. vote on a bill nobody’s read.

Attendance would actually be decent. Winners like to be seen. The retirees are another story. They’re in the building, but they’re already gone. And a “comfortable” majority these days means leadership can lose one Member to the flu or that “nasty stomach bug” that seems to run rampant the day after that Farewell Party.

Democrats keep the lights on and nothing else. Short-term CR, defense bill, see you in January.

Scenario Three: Nobody Knows Who Won

The least likely, but with 21 toss-up races, not out of the question. Thanksgiving comes and goes and the House still hangs on a few California counties that count ballots like they’re being paid by the hour. Neither party knows if it’s in charge but both are confidently declaring victory.

The White House goes into full on crisis mode standing ready to claim “election tampering” if things don’t go their way. Democrats discover a sudden love of procedure. And attendance becomes life or death. When the margin is two votes, a delayed flight out of Little Rock is a national emergency. Speaker Johnson has spent two years counting to 218 on his fingers. He may need to borrow somebody else’s hands.

End result: the shortest funding patch in history, and the whole mess gets handed to a Congress that doesn’t exist yet.

One Last Thing

No matter who wins, December is farewell party season. Every night there’s another one. Same Capitol Hill townhouse, same sad cheese plate, same staffer giving a toast that’s supposed to be funny and makes everyone cry instead. The guest of honor gets a framed photo and a cake that says “Thank You For Your Service.” By the second week, people are double-booking farewells like holiday parties.

And watch the departing members on the floor that last week. They’ll come back, shake hands, tell stories, act like nothing changed. It’s the high school quarterback showing up at the 20-year reunion. Still wearing the letterman jacket. Gut hanging over the belt. Hairline in full retreat. Everybody’s nice to him. Nobody’s asking him to play.

Editor’s Note: Once a month, you’ll hear from our expert working on Capitol Hill about what they’re seeing on the policy and legislative side in Washington in our On the Hill column. Think of them as our Lady Whistledown.