She needed grace and time to wind down thoughtfully
In the spring of 2025, a veteran public servant named Mary Li quietly held two full-time government roles at once — one for the City of Portland, one for Multnomah County — drawing six-figure salaries from each for two months while both employers looked on and nodded. The arrangement, born of thirty-five years of institutional loyalty and a desire for a thoughtful farewell, appears to have no precedent among the two governments, raising enduring questions about how exceptions are made, for whom, and whether the public record is ever truly complete.
- A 72-hour work week across two governments that rarely agree on anything was the quiet reality Mary Li lived from late March through May 2025.
- Other employees moving between Portland and Multnomah County were required to make clean breaks — no overlap, no dual paychecks — making Li's arrangement stand out as a singular exception.
- Both governments approved the deal, yet neither produced documentation from the overlap period, leaving a gap in the public record that a spokesperson could only verbally confirm.
- A July memo with strict rules for Li's ongoing county work arrived after the fact, addressing future conduct but leaving the two-month dual-employment window largely unexamined.
- The story is landing in uncomfortable territory: sympathetic in its human logic, but unsettling in its opacity and the precedent it may quietly set.
Mary Li spent thirty-five years at Multnomah County before becoming chief of staff to Portland Councilor Tiffany Koyama Lane on March 31, 2025. For two months, she did both jobs simultaneously — full-time for the city at $130,811 a year, and thirty-two hours a week for the county at $124,287 annually. Both employers knew and approved.
Li's reasoning was personal and practical: after more than three decades, she had projects to close out and relationships that deserved a proper goodbye. Koyama Lane, the first Asian American woman elected to Portland's city council, agreed to the overlap. Li was a sought-after figure in local government and a founding member of APANO, an organization supporting Asian communities in Oregon.
What makes the arrangement notable is its apparent uniqueness. Other public employees moving between Portland and Multnomah County reported being required to make clean breaks. City HR said it was unaware of any similar arrangement. The county did not respond when asked how often it permitted such deals.
In July, Li and Koyama Lane signed a memo — reviewed by a city attorney — establishing strict rules for Li's continuing on-call county work: separate devices, separate duties, no crossover. But the memo did not address the two-month period of simultaneous employment, and the city produced no documents from that window, though a spokesperson confirmed the arrangement existed.
County officials said Li exceeded expectations before transitioning to on-call status in June. She has since logged 104 hours at $74.69 an hour, and collects a public pension of $7,927 a month after retiring from the county in July 2024 before returning as a temporary employee. The story of her transition is sympathetic — but the absence of documentation, and the exception made where none had been made before, leaves the public record with more questions than answers.
Mary Li spent thirty-five years at Multnomah County before taking a job as chief of staff to Portland Councilor Tiffany Koyama Lane on March 31, 2025. For two months, she did both jobs at once.
From late March through the end of May, Li worked full-time for the city at $130,811 a year while maintaining a thirty-two-hour-a-week position with the county at $124,287 annually. The arrangement meant seventy-two-hour work weeks—nights and weekends consumed by the demands of two governments that rarely see eye to eye. Both employers knew about it. Both said it was fine.
Li's explanation was straightforward: she needed time to close out her work at the county with care rather than simply walking away. After more than three decades there, she had projects that mattered to her, relationships that deserved a proper goodbye. Koyama Lane, the first Asian American woman elected to Portland's city council, agreed to the overlap. Li was a sought-after employee with deep roots in local government and had been a founding member of APANO, an organization supporting Asian communities in Oregon. The city's human resources department said it was unaware of any similar arrangement in the past. The county did not respond when asked how often it permitted such deals.
Yet the arrangement sits uneasily in the record. Other public employees who have moved between Portland and Multnomah County reported being required to make clean breaks—no overlap, no dual paychecks, no gray area. Li's situation appears to be an exception, one made possible by a councilor's discretion and both governments' willingness to accommodate a veteran employee's transition.
City policy does allow employees to hold outside jobs as long as the work doesn't interfere with their primary role and they disclose any conflicts of interest in writing. In July, Li and Koyama Lane signed a memo, reviewed by a city attorney, that laid out strict rules for Li's ongoing on-call work with the county: separate devices for county and city projects, complete separation of duties, no bleed-through between the two roles. That memo, however, did not address the two-month period when she held both positions simultaneously. The city said it was aware of the arrangement but did not produce documents from that time, though a spokesperson confirmed the deal had been made.
County officials said Li completed her work during those two months and exceeded expectations before shifting into an on-call status in June. Since then, she has worked 104 hours at $74.69 an hour. She also receives a public pension of $7,927 a month, a benefit she began collecting after retiring from the county in July 2024, then returning as a temporary employee.
The dual employment raises questions about transparency and precedent in how two major local governments handle employee transitions. Li's explanation—that she needed grace and time to wind down thoughtfully—is sympathetic and human. But the lack of documentation from the overlap period, combined with the apparent uniqueness of the arrangement, suggests that even when both sides approve something, the public record may not fully capture what happened or why.
Citas Notables
I spent 35 years at the county, and leaving was not an easy decision. I was deeply invested in my work there, but I felt a strong pull to join the city. The two-month overlap gave me the time to wind down my projects thoughtfully rather than leaving abruptly.— Mary Li, in a statement
County officials said Li completed her work and exceeded expectations in the two months before she shifted into the on-call role.— Denis Theriault, county spokesperson
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did both governments allow this when other employees transferring between them had to make clean breaks?
That's the core question. Li had thirty-five years at the county and was deeply embedded in their work. Koyama Lane saw her as a valuable hire and wanted to accommodate her. There's a discretion that comes with being a councilor—you get to shape how your office operates. But discretion and transparency don't always align.
Did Li actually need two months to wind down, or was this just a way to earn more money during a transition?
The record suggests she genuinely had projects she cared about finishing. County officials said she exceeded expectations during those two months. But the fact that we're asking the question at all points to a real problem: there's no clear documentation of what she actually did in either job during that period, or how the work was divided.
What bothers you most about this story?
The missing paper trail. The city said it was aware of the arrangement but couldn't produce documents from the overlap period. A memo was signed in July, after the fact, to govern future on-call work. It feels like they're writing the rules after the game was already played.
Is this corruption?
Not in the criminal sense. Both sides approved it. But it's a gap in how we govern ourselves—a moment where two institutions bent their normal procedures for someone they respected, without fully documenting why or how it worked. That's not the same as corruption, but it's not ideal transparency either.
What happens now?
Li continues as an on-call employee at the county, working Fridays at an hourly rate. The arrangement is documented now. But the precedent is set: if you're well-connected and have a good relationship with your new employer, you might be able to negotiate something that other people couldn't.