‘Hi…Former President of the United States’

It had been a rough few weeks. Actually, make that a rough few months. My boss had recently died, which–emotional issues aside (and there were emotional issues)–necessitated closing a Congressional office, attending a funeral and finding new work. In looking for work, through some connections, I found myself in the employ of one of America’s most beloved political families. That didn’t last long. (But stay tuned for entries on that experience.)

Fortunately, with the help of a good friend, I landed on my feet and ended up back on Capitol Hill as a staffer in a New Mexico Senator’s office. The move from the House to the Senate was a culture shock enough. (You’d be surprised at how infinitesimally different they are.) But what happened on this day blew me away.

I’m not sure if it was my first day or my first week as sadly the details of the late 90’s are beginning to fade, but I had just walked downstairs into the anteroom outside the Senator’s office to talk to his scheduler. I remember the office as quiet with only the hum of computers, the muted clacking of keyboards and the low warble of the phones ringing. As I walked towards her desk, the door between the office’s reception area and the anteroom burst open shattering the quiet with an abrupt, authoritative “THUNK” as it hit the back of a sofa.

Two well-built, broad-shouldered men in suits crossed through the doorway, it seemed, simultaneously. Heads swiveling, eyes darting and without a word, the men assessed everything about the room: doors open, doors closed, the number of people standing, the number of people sitting, exits, windows–everything–in about 10 seconds.

I stood stock still frozen in mid-stride in the middle of the room, shocked at this cacophonous interruption and unsure as to whether I should stay where I was or make a quiet, graceful exit. Combine that with my utter confusion about what was happening and the incredible lack of interest or acknowledgement by my colleagues that this was happening, I was—frankly—flummoxed.

In those brief moments where I was trying to figure out whether to stay or go, Suit Number 1 spoke into his sleeve and then blended right in to the furniture as, apparently, had Suit Number 2.

Then once again, the door between the reception area and anteroom burst open again. In strode a confident, older man about the same height as me. He looked me right in the eye, walked up to me, took my hand and said,

“Hi! I’m Gerald Ford. Former president of the United States.”