Running for office teaches you a lot about the people within your sphere of influence, and perhaps even more about relationships. Over the past several weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the difference between transactional relationships and relational relationships. Before I get into my reflection, let me explain what I mean by those two terms.
A transactional relationship is largely based on an exchange: I do something for you, and you do something for me. There is often an understood responsibility, expectation, or benefit for each person. Transactional relationships aren’t necessarily bad. We all participate in them, but the relationship often exists primarily because each person expects something from the other.
A relational relationship is different. It’s built around care, trust, authenticity, and growing together. It shows you who values the connection, not simply the convenience. Transactions can certainly happen within relational connections. We help each other, advocate for each other, show up for each other, and sometimes ask each other for favors. The difference is that the transaction isn’t the foundation of the relationship. We do those things because we genuinely care about the other person’s well-being, not because we’re keeping score or expecting something in return.
If you know me, you know I value relationships. My wife, Marissa, reminded me once that I trust people way too much. But in my defense, throughout my life and career, I’ve tried to take the long view when it comes to people. I believe in winning hearts and minds, listening to people, building trust, and creating relationships that last beyond whatever project, position, or circumstance originally brought us together. That philosophy is at the heart of my work in Family and Community Engagement. Good family engagement is deeply relational work. It humanizes us. It requires us to listen, build trust, be vulnerable, and invest something of ourselves in the people we serve.
Yes, relational work can be taxing. It requires time, patience, openness, and sometimes a little grace. But over the long haul, it leads to something far more meaningful and impactful. When we work in genuine relationship with one another, we create belonging. We develop accountability to one another. Even through brief interactions, we communicate something incredibly powerful. I see you. I hear you. You matter. Relationships built through listening, trust, openness, and longevity will almost always have deeper roots than interactions that are one-sided or based solely on what someone can do for us. I value relationships over transactions.
In a split second, my normal changed tremendously
For the past 36 days, many of you know I’ve been dealing with a severely broken ankle that landed me on what I’ve jokingly called the “injured reserve list.” Being forced to slow down has given me more time than I ever expected to sit, observe, think, and reflect. And I’ve had the opportunity to witness something incredible: my village.
People have stepped up to walk neighborhoods for my campaign because I physically can’t. Friends and neighbors have cut my yard. People have brought us dinners, visited me at home, called, texted, checked on Marissa and me, and stepped into responsibilities when I couldn’t be there myself. Some have simply sent a message saying, “How are you doing?” Others have said, “What do you need?” And some didn’t even ask. They just showed up. Those moments have meant more to me than people probably realize. Most of these relationships weren’t created during the past 36 days. They were built over years, sometimes decades, through shared experiences, conversations, service, laughter, challenges, disagreements, trust, and simply being there for one another. There wasn’t a transaction involved. Nobody was keeping score. They simply cared.
And Then There’s Politics
Politics gives you a very interesting lens through which to examine relationships. I’ve learned that many of the relationships we develop while serving as elected officials can naturally become transactional. That’s part of the political environment, and I’ve learned to recognize it for what it is. For example, candidates often receive contributions or support from organizations. Sometimes that support comes from shared values and a long-standing relationship. Other times, an organization may support a candidate because it believes that person will be receptive to its priorities in the future.
That doesn’t automatically make the interaction wrong. It simply means we should understand the difference between a transaction and a relationship. And campaigns have a way of bringing that distinction into focus. Sometimes people you thought would be standing beside you through thick and thin decide to stay quiet. Some may support you privately but aren’t comfortable doing so publicly. Some have professional relationships, personal circumstances, or other considerations that influence how involved they want to become. And yes, there are those ride-or-die people who don’t hesitate. They simply show up.
But perhaps the biggest surprise has been the people I never expected. People I barely knew have volunteered to knock on doors. Others have shared posts, put up signs, made phone calls, sent encouraging texts, or simply asked: “How can I help?” Acquaintances have become friends. Existing friendships have grown stronger. And some relationships I once viewed one way have caused me to reconsider what they actually are. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s perspective.
One of the Harder Lessons
I’ve also learned that political support shouldn’t automatically become the measuring stick for friendship. But I’d be less than truthful if I said campaigns haven’t changed the way I view some relationships. There is something enlightening about watching someone you considered a friend actively support someone running against you. I respect everyone’s right to support the candidate of their choice, that comes with public service and with democracy. But I’m also human. Sometimes those moments cause you to reevaluate a relationship you thought was something more.
Maybe that’s part of understanding the difference between relational and transactional connections. Not every person who enters your life is meant to occupy the same space forever. Some relationships are deep, personal, and enduring. Others exist because of a particular job, role, organization, or season of life. A campaign has helped me recognize the difference. That doesn’t mean there has to be anger or resentment. It simply means adjusting expectations and allowing some relationships to exist for what they are rather than what I thought they were. And yes, occasionally that may include a little Facebook housekeeping. 😂
At the same time, I must hold myself accountable to the principle I’m writing about. If I believe in relationships over transactions, I can’t reduce every friendship to “I supported you, therefore you should support me.” People have the right to make their own choices. What I can do is pay attention to what those choices teach me about the nature of our relationship. No bitterness. No scorekeeping. Just clarity. And sometimes clarity is a gift.
Someone choosing not to put up my sign, endorse me, contribute to my campaign, or share one of my posts doesn’t necessarily mean that person doesn’t care about me. I’ve had to remind myself of that. Because if I truly believe in relationships over transactions, then that principle must work both ways. I can’t say that I value people relationally and then reduce the relationship to: I supported you, so you should support me. That would make the very relationship I claim to value transactional. And maybe that’s one of the most important lessons this campaign has reinforced for me.
A campaign can give a person perspective. It teaches you to appreciate the people who willingly walk alongside you while still respecting those who choose not to. It teaches you to recognize the people who show up when there’s nothing obvious in it for them. It reminds you to be grateful for your village. And it challenges you to examine your own relationships and ask whether you’re investing in people because of what they can do for you, or simply because they matter to you. Most importantly, I’ve been reminded that relationships shouldn’t be defined by an election. Campaigns eventually end. Titles eventually change. Election Day will soon be gone (37 more days). But the way we treat people along the journey, and the relationships we build, nurture, and preserve, can last much longer than any position we hold.
36 days on the injured reserve list has given me more time to think than I probably wanted. But it has also given me the opportunity to see my village from a different perspective. Some people surprised me. Some relationships became stronger. Some caused me to reflect. And some people simply showed up. For all of it – the support, the surprises, the perspective, and even the lessons, I’m grateful. I will continue to hold relationships over transactions as my foundation.
