Hailing the Chief

Hey all, here's an intersting story I had to read for my Men With a Mission class. Enjoy!

Hailing The Chief

He sat at his desk in the Oval Office, waiting. He waited, even thought there was a stack of letters to sign, a cable to read, a press conference to prepare for, a briefing with the cabinet to attend, a tea for an ambassador in the Rose Garden . . .. Looking up from his schedule, he smiled. Yes, there was a lot to do. But first some people were coming - some very important people. At least he thought they were very important. That was why he kept inviting them to come to the Oval Office and talk with him. He longed to hear what was in their hearts and minds, to talk about how they felt, what they needed, how they could help him accomplish his goals . . .

"Mr. President," Said a voice on the intercom. "They're here, sir" "Ah," he said. "Send the first one in, please." He leaned forward on the edge of his chair, waiting. The door opened, and a housewife ushered herself into the room. Without acknowledging the President's smile or outstretched hand, she plopped down in a chair. "Thank you fo rhte world so sweet, thankyou for the food we eat, thank you for the birds that sing, thank you, sir, for everything. Goodbye." Before the President could say a word in response, the woman opened her eyes, got up, and walked out the door. He sighed. Why did it always seem to go like this? He pushed the intercom button. "Next please," he said. The door opened, and in came a stout man who wore a tuxedo. Again the President's hand was ignored. "O thou chief executive who art in the White House," said the man, clasping his hands and looking at the ceiling. "O thou in whom so much doth constitutionally dwell, upon whose desk hath placed a most effective blotter; incline thine ear toward thy most humble citizen, and grant that thy many entities may be manifoldly endowed upon the fruitful plain . . ." Wincing the President closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "And may thy thou dost harkeneth whatly didst shalt evermore in twain asunder," the man concluded in a loud monotone. "Excuse me," said the President, "but what . . . ?" "Goodbye," Said the man, seeming not to hear, and walked out. The President sighed again. "Next, please," he spoke into the intercom. This time when the door opened, there seemed to be no one there. Then the President looked down and saw a man crawling through the doorway on his hands and knees. "Oh, Mr. g-great and awful P-president," blubbered the man, not looking up from the carpet. "I am but a digusting piece of filth in your presence. No, I am less than that. How dare I enter here? How dare I think that you would do anything but grind me into the floor?"

"Please, get up," said the President, offering his hand. "You don't have to do that. I want to talk with you." But the man went right on groveling. "I deserve only to be squashed under the weight of your mighty desk," he whined. "I could never have gotten an ivitation to talk with you. It must have been a mistake. How can you ever forgive me for breaking in like this? Oh, I'm so sorry, so sorry, so sorry . . .." Still on his hands and knees, he crawled out. The man's groaning faded down the hall. The President shook his head, then slowly pushed the intercom button. "Next," he said, sounding tired. In moments a young man entered. He was wearing headphones and bobbing up and down to the music of his pocket stereo. "Hey Prez," the young man said, ignoring the offered hand. "What's happening?" He looked out the window. "Nice place you've got here. I'm, like, so glad we could have this little chat, you know? You're not bad for an old dude, I guess. You don't botherme, I won't bother you, okay? Well, I've gotta go. Hang in there." He walked out. The President drummed his fingers on his desk. "Next, please," he said wearily.

An a elderly man marched in, staring at a piece of paper in his hand. He, too, ignored the President's greeting. "Mr. President," he declared, keeping his eyes on his list. "I want there to be a parking space waiting for me when I go downtown this afternoon. Not a parallel parking space, either - one that I can drive right into. Not one with a parking meter. You can see to it that none ofthose meter maids gives me a ticket. Now this is important!" The President cleared his throat politely. "Speaking of important," he ventured, "how do you feel about my program to feed the hungery? Would you like to have a part in . . .." "And another thing" the man continued. "I lost my best golf club. A putter. Can't remember where I put it. Now, you find it for me, will you? Got to have that club before Saturday. I know you can do it. Goodbye." With that the old man got up and shuffled out the door. The President slumped in his chair. "Next," he said. There was a pause. At last a young woman entered slowly. Whe looked like a sleepwalker - eyes nearly shut, jaw slack, her feet dragging. She yawned and slid into a chair. Dear . . . Mr . . . President . . . "she said, her head drooping. "I know I should talk to you when I'm more . . . awake . . . but I've got so many things to do . . . so sleepy . . .. There was something I was goign to say . . . what is it . . .? I was going to say . . . uh . . .." She started to snore. ThePresident buzzed his secretary, who stepped in. "Could you help this young lady out?" he asked, sighing again.

"Certainly, Mr. President," said the secretary as she helped the dozing girl to her feet. The President gazed sadly out the window. "How many do we have left?" he asked. I'm sorry, sir," the secretary said. "But as usual, most of the people you sent invitations to said they were too busy to talk. They had to watch TV, wax the car, do the dishes . . . ." "Oh," said the President, dejected. "Isn't there anyone out there?" "There is one, sir," she said. "But you wouldn't want to talk to him." "Why not?" "Because he's just a child, Mr. President." The chief executive shrugged. "May as well show him in," he said. Moments later a little boy entered shyly. He looked around the room, his eyes wide. "Are . . . are you really the President?" he asked. The President smiled. "I really am," he answered, offering his hand. The little boy reached up and shook it. Then he sat down, folded his hands in his lap, and waited. The President watched amazed, as the boy sat politely for nearly a minute. "Isn't there . . . something you want to tell me?" the boy sat politely for nearly a minute. "Something you have to recite, to ask for, or say?" The little boy looked down for a moment, thinking. Then he looked up. "Yes," he said. "I guess ther is." "Well, what is it?" the President asked. "Thank you for inviting me," the boy said. "That's all." When the President heard that, he couldn't seem to say anything for a while. All he could do was smile. But then they talked and talked and talked for the longest, most wonderful time.