Bedtime Stories for Public Servants: Awaiting Assignment

The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of ASPA as an organization.

By S. Mohsen Fatemi
February 20, 2026

The table had been there longer than any of them.

It had held budgets that reshaped entire departments, contracts that altered the shape of the City and decisions whose consequences would outlive everyone who made them. It did not remember the words of those decisions. It remembered their placement.

Responsibility always arrived the same way.

It was set down in front of someone.

The chairs understood this too. They had carried the weight of decisions for decades. Some decisions rested lightly, completed quickly and forgotten just as fast. Others settled heavily and stayed for years.

The microphones, less concerned with weight, remembered something else entirely.

They remembered promises.

The commitment had entered the room on an ordinary evening, carried in paper and spoken aloud with clarity. It described a future the City had decided to pursue, a transition to clean energy structured around time and necessity.

The microphones carried the words faithfully.

The clock marked the hour.

The agenda screen displayed the item number.

The nameplates identified who was present to decide.

The table waited.

The chairs prepared.

But nothing arrived.

“They said it clearly,” said the microphone at the center. “They adopted it.”

The chairs did not disagree.

“They never gave it to anyone,” replied one of the older chairs.

The nameplates, arranged neatly along the table’s edge, remained still. They existed for one purpose, to ensure decisions belonged to someone specific.

This one never did.

The clock, mounted high on the wall, watched the years pass. It measured the timelines precisely. The commitment had promised change by certain dates. Those dates had come and gone with the quiet regularity of time itself.

“It was ambitious,” said the clock.

“It was unplaced,” replied the table.

The agenda screen, which had displayed the commitment many times over the years, remembered how often it had returned. It appeared in reports, updates and discussions. Its presence in the system never diminished.

“They never removed it,” said the screen.

“They never anchored it,” replied the table.

Other decisions had arrived during those same years. They were placed directly in front of specific nameplates. The chairs received them, carried them and transferred their weight into the structure of the City.

This one remained suspended above them.

“It depended on too many others,” said one of the microphones, repeating a phrase it had heard often in recent meetings.

“It depended on someone,” said a chair.

The distinction settled into the room.

The nameplates understood this better than any of them. Every decision required a name. Without one, commitments remained visible but inactive.

They had waited for the commitment to arrive before one of them.

It never did.

Years later, the agenda screen displayed something new.

A proposal to remove the commitment.

Not to repair it.

Not to place it.

To replace it.

The language appeared familiar. The future remained intact. The promises were still there.

The microphones repeated them faithfully.

“It is more flexible,” said one microphone.

“It is lighter,” said one chair.

The clock continued moving.

“It gives them more time,” it observed.

The table did not move at all.

“It gives them no one,” it said.

The newest nameplate, polished and recently engraved, spoke for the first time.

“What would have made it work?”

The room was quiet.

The microphones did not answer. Words had never been the problem.

The clock did not answer. Time had never been the problem.

The agenda screen did not answer. Visibility had never been the problem.

The table answered.

“They would have placed it here,” it said.

It did not need to explain further.

Because the furniture of the room had learned what institutions sometimes take longer to understand.

Commitments did not become real when they were adopted.

They became real when they were assigned.

And until that happened, the future would remain where it had always been.

Present in the room.

Visible to everyone.

And carried by no one.

A Pause with the Civic Sage

The newest nameplate spoke carefully.

“They set dates they did not yet know how to reach.”

The clock, which had marked those dates without interruption, remained silent.

The table asked its question next.

“They did not change what anyone here was required to do. Why?”

The Civic Sage rested a hand on the table.

“They placed the commitment inside intention,” the Sage said. “But not inside responsibility.”

The microphones listened.

“Intentions describe what institutions hope will happen,” the Sage said.
“Responsibility determines what must happen.”

“They spoke of it often,” said one of the microphones.

“Yes,” the Sage replied. “They placed it inside discussion.”

The room was still.

“Discussion allows institutions to carry commitments,” the Sage said.
“Responsibility requires institutions to change.”

A chair spoke quietly.

“Why did they not place it?”

The Sage answered gently.

“Because placing it would have required them to become different from what they were.”

The clock continued moving.

“The institution did not refuse the future,” the Sage said.
“It simply never required itself to deliver it.”

No one in the room disagreed.

The Loose Ends

Public commitments do not fail because they are ambitious. They fail when ambition is not translated into institutional responsibility. In this case, the institution committed to a renewable energy transition and tied it to timelines, but never assigned ownership, provided implementation tools or aligned authority with the actors capable of delivering it. The future was defined, but no one was responsible for making it real.

This reflects a broader pattern in public institutions. Plans establish direction, but progress depends on where responsibility is placed. Commitments shape outcomes only when they are carried in defined roles, expectations and enduring institutional responsibility.

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Author: S. Mohsen Fatemi is a PhD candidate in the School of Public Affairs & Administration at the University of Kansas, where his research examines energy governance, policy, and justice. He is the creator of Bedtime Stories for Public Servants. This narrative series blends storytelling, reflective dialogue, and research-based insights to explore the ethical and emotional dilemmas faced in public service. He can be reached at [email protected]. His website is www.mohsenfatemi.com, and his X/Twitter handle is @MohsenFatemiii.

 

 

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