INDEPTH: FEDERAL BUDGET 2006
Budget Blog
CBC News Online | May 2, 2006
Amber Hildebrandt is the regional journalist for CBC Ottawa. She's a budget neophyte taking on the biggest lockup of them all – the federal budget. She offers a rundown of what it's really all about.
8 a.m.
It's the morning of the federal budget and I'm waffling over my shoes. To wear my brand-new, pink wide-buckled kitty heels, that are sure to result in blisters, or my towering, but broken-in, black slingbacks?
It's become a tradition for the media to watch for the finance minister's footwear. The choice has come to be symbolic of the government's approach to the budget. Does he splurge on new shoes or just get his old ones resoled? And as a budget neophyte, I've also decided to weigh my shoe decision carefully.
Finance Minister Jim Flaherty has chosen to don shiny, new $185 shoes. He showed them off at a photo-op Monday, but won't wear them until his budget speech at 4 p.m. Tuesday.
The origins of this tradition are a mystery. All that is certain is that it's unique to Canada and it began fairly recently. In fact, only seven ministers of finance have worn new shoes on budget day. The first time was in 1966 with Mitchell Sharp. Former finance minister Ralph Goodale donned new shoes for both his budgets, while Paul Martin only wore new ones for his first.
In the end, I decided to wear my slingbacks – comfort is of the essence for my first lockup, and so the slingbacks are in.
I'm off to the office for a few hours of last-minute research, saving on my memory stick all the documents I might need on my laptop during the lockup since I'll have no internet access once I'm in.
Pre-budget lockup
10 a.m.
We begin streaming into the Westin Hotel on Colonel By Drive at 9 a.m. In past years, it's been held at the Ottawa Congress Centre next door.
The entire third floor is crowded with journalists and members of public interest groups signing in. For the more than 370 people, the first stop is a desk in the corner to pick up their pass. They all had to receive accreditation from the Parliamentary Press Gallery last week. One by one, their names are crossed off a list. It includes radio, television, print and online reporters from a gamut of media outlets: the CBC, the Globe and Mail, local newspapers the Ottawa Sun and Citizen, as well as smaller publications.
Some of the big names send dozens of reporters, often accompanied with an expert or two to provide in-depth analysis of key issues.
Then we wait.
10:30 a.m.
We begin streaming up the escalator to the fourth-floor lockup room. There, we crowd around tables to sign a contract promising to "not remove, release or communicate documents, materials or information, or other records of any nature whatsoever, to anyone in any manner" until we are released from the room at 4 p.m., when the minister stands up in the House of Commons to deliver his budget speech.
We hand over our BlackBerries, cellphones, PDAs, two-way radios, modems, air cards, and wireless microphones. Like a coat check, we get a tag for pick up later.
Reporters are responsible for making sure any internal built-in wireless devices on laptops and computers are shut off. If they don't, they can be asked to hand over their computer.
The punishment if they fail to comply: The journalist or the media outlet he or she works for can be banned from future Finance Department embargoes.
Finally, we enter the Confederation Ballroom. It's large and windowless. (Perhaps so there's less chance of using signals to deliver budget nuggets to the outside world.)
This is not the first time the media has seen the room. On Tuesday night, there was a one-hour window to set up equipment, then the room was opened again at 7 a.m. on Tuesday.
IT staff spent the time setting up routers, installing phone lines and checking connections. They're responsible for making sure that once 4 p.m. rolls around, information can be sent problem-free.
TV and radio have microphones and equipment set up in the back of the ballroom, to allow them to put together fully edited pieces to go to air at 4 p.m.
At 9:30, everyone was kicked out for the one-hour security sweep. RCMP officers and dogs were brought in to conduct the sweep. They don't divulge the secrets of their sweep. But what is for certain is they used special equipment that can detect any transmission that emits a signal. Even if a cellphone is turned on, but not in use, it can be detected.
10:45 a.m.
The doors open to the ballroom. (There are three other lockups on the same floor: for economists and tax practitioners, for legal publishers, and for departmental staff, such as deputy ministers.)
As we arrive, we make a dash to the front of the room, where finance officials are handing out the package of documents. One each, thank you very much.
Then we find our designated tables. Each spot at the dozens of tables have a paper with the name of the reporter. We're clumped together with colleagues from our media outlet.
We tear into the documents. Bound by an elastic band, the stack includes an overview brochure, a copy of the budget speech, a CD, a brochure titled Helping Individuals and Families, a budget in brief document, a one-centimetre-thick book on restoring fiscal balance in Canada, and, of course, the two-centimetre-thick budget plan itself. Lastly, there is a half-page news release outlining the main points, at least the ones they want you to see.
Time to get comfortable. I sling off my slingbacks, and curl my feet up beneath me. I look around at the intent stares of everyone around me. I take a deep breath, then I jump into the budget in brief.
11:30 a.m.
We've had time, about an hour, to digest the briefing book, a summary of the budget. One of the reporters looks around, asks if everyone is ready. Eyes pause in their reading. They look up. And the discussion begins. They've all finished scanning the briefing book, a summary of the budget.
It's time to discuss treatment for the web: How will topics be divided on the website, what takes precedence and who will do what?
Now begins the hunt for the fine details. The budget in brief merely outlines what the Tories want to highlight. The reporters now turn to the budget plan.
Everyone is scouring the documents for details, for numbers, for fine print. There are random gasps around the room of: "Oh, that's interesting!"
Noon
It's lunch time. Some people slip sandwiches from their laptop bags, taking bites between sentences tapped out on the keyboard.
Outside the main ballroom, a canteen has been set up, with salads, sandwiches, cakes and cookies for sale. Three round tables in the lobby provide an endless supply of tea and coffee.
Everyone looks surprisingly calm. There is not the sense of panic I expected. Perhaps that is yet to come. It's still early.
Meanwhile, dozens of officials from the finance department crowd behind tables at the front of the room. They stand in front of signs categorizing them according to their area of expertise: Economic/Fiscal Outlook, Taxes, Security, Families and Communities, Universal Child Care Benefit, Federal-Provincial Relations and Treasury Board.
Over the next four hours they will field questions – lots of questions. Nothing they say can be attributed. It's simply for clarification – we call it deep background.
Reporters line up to ask such things as: Under the new child-care allowance, will the government be e-mailing monthly or annual cheques? What's the cost of sending it out every month? And will parents be receiving a cheque for each child under the age of six?
1:30 p.m.
The noise level is mounting. At the back of the room and in the lobby, TV crews scrum economists and public interest representatives.
I can sense a shift in intensity. People mill about in the aisles, chatting with colleagues from other papers or TV stations.
2:30 p.m.
A computer crashes. The reporter emits a yelp, but nothing more. She's been saving and all it means is a forced five-minute delay of her furious typing.
3:30 p.m.
The budget is coming to a climax. Everyone is peering over shoulders of their colleagues to look at computer screens or writing furiously. Some of us, it seems, more furiously than others.
It's time to wrap everything up. CBC's web developer has all the pages prepared and is plopping in the text so everything can be up on the site when Flaherty rises in the Commons.
4 p.m.
We're done. Flaherty is beginning his big speech. Everyone seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
None of us will be there to hear it live, but we've had enough of number crunching for one day.
Now we just cross our fingers and hope the internet connection works.
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