David A. Fahrenthold and Lisa Rein / The Washington Post

The sequester was supposed to be something new in Washington: a budget cut you couldn’t beat. Once it hit, it hit. The money was gone, and nobody could get it back.

That turned out to be true — for about three weeks. Then somebody beat it.

Last week, President Barack Obama signed a spending bill that gave the Agriculture Department’s food inspectors what everybody else wanted: a get-out-of-the-sequester card.

Their program got $55 million in new money, which replaced almost all of what the sequester took.

There’s a story there, about how power and lobbying can still make money appear in Washington, even in this age of austerity. It started with sharp political theater.

Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack insisted that the sequester would force him to shut down all U.S. meat production on at least 11 days.

The inspectors union didn’t believe that. Neither did many in the powerful meat lobby. But they were too worried not to help Vilsack anyway. After an extensive campaign, the Senate gave Vilsack the money.

So the sequester can be hacked. Now, other interest groups are waiting: police officers, airport executives, Border Patrol agents. The question is: Can it be hacked again?

“It is those who make the most noise that sometimes succeed,” said Sen. Jerry Moran, R-Kan., who failed in his push to exempt small air traffic control towers from the effects of the sequester. “I thought I’d made a lot of noise,” Moran said. Until he saw he had lost and the meat lobby and Vilsack had won.

This was not, of course, the way sequestration was supposed to turn out. Back in 2011, it was designed to exempt some areas of government: welfare, food stamps, Social Security, veterans programs. But where it cut, it was supposed to cut like a razor, clean and even:

Defense programs lose 7.3 percent across the board. Non-defense spending programs lose 5.1 percent.

Nobody could get out. Because then, everybody would want out. And the sequester was meant to force a gridlocked Washington to come up with something else.

“We need a big fix. And once you start making everybody happy, you lose the leverage in a negotiation” for a bigger deal, said a Republican aide in the House, speaking anonymously to explain the GOP leadership’s thinking. The even spreading of the pain “was the whole point of sequestration to begin with,” the aide said.

Of course, Washington is not a place where people sit back and accept equal treatment. Since sequestration began taking effect on March 1, some programs have lobbied for little victories, taking a bigger piece of their department’s smaller pie.

Corrections officers persuaded the Justice Department to shift more money their way, eliminating the threat of furloughs. The Pentagon found $10.4 billion, so furloughs for civilian employees were reduced. But none of them got Congress to give them money to replace what the sequester took. That trick was pulled off, somehow, by the workers who inspect animal carcasses.

The campaign to do it began in early February, when the sequester was still weeks away. Earlier than many other Cabinet secretaries, Vilsack began describing in detail how badly his department would be hit.

“In our food safety area ... we will have to furlough workers for a period of a couple of weeks,” Vilsack said, speaking to an agriculture industry conference in Las Vegas. “The problem is, as soon as you take an inspector off the floor, that plant shuts down.”

He had details: There could be $10 billion in lost production and more than $400 million lost worker wages. Diners would be affected, too; beef and poultry would get scarcer. “Food safety could be compromised,” he said.

In the world of meat, people took notice. But a lot of them thought Vilsack was stretching the truth.

Even the meat inspectors’ union doubted he would make good on the promise of shutting plants down. Federal law requires the Agriculture Department to provide inspectors when a plant is running. A budget cut is not a valid excuse to stop, said Trent Berhow, an official with the inspectors union. “If the federal government truly did put the inspectors out of the plant, the industry would sue the hell out of them,” he said.