(Ed. note: The following landed in my in-box, with no name attached. I cannot vouch for its authenticity. But with the many news stories about the alleged chaos in the Trump White House, this account cannot be ignored. Perhaps one day the author will come forward and verify the events recounted.)
One of the proudest days of my life came when I was hired as a senior staff member by President Trump. For the past six months I have been in the closest contact with the most important members of the administration. It has been one of the most exciting and frustrating times anyone could ever have.
My introduction to the myriad events came only three days into my work there. Sitting at my desk, I was accosted by a young man who bounded into the office, thrust a paper into my hand and announced that “you are now served”, then he spun around and almost sprinted out of the room. In my possession was a summons to appear before a grand jury investigating the theft of copy paper that belonged to the previous administration.
Asking my immediate superior what to do, she said simply, “Hire a lawyer!” So I did and the next week I appeared and answered every question with a sincere, “I don’t know.” Not knowing what to expect, I waited a call from the gendarmes who would slap me in chains for my alleged crimes. Nothing happened.
All have heard of the FISA court and the “unmasking” of member’s of Trump’s campaign team. Since I had come to the President-elect’s attention during the hectic days running up to the election, this put me in the crosshairs of those looking to prove nefarious activity on the part of the campaign.
What triggered (is that a good word with the controversy over gun control going on?) this was a most innocuous comment I made to a co-worker during the last few days before the election. Speaking to ‘Jim’, I mentioned a conversation I overheard between Boris and Natasha. But someone eavesdropped, and by the time another day had transpired, a FISA warrant had been issued, and my activities were now under scrutiny. In other words, I was unmasked.
Toward the end of November, an FBI agent – uh – special agent, in his words, required my presence at his office and I was grilled about my contact with Russian spies. Finally figuring out what he was talking about, I filled him in on my kids watching reruns of the Rocky and Bullwinkle show, with Boris and Natasha being two cartoon characters who played bumbling spies for the Russkies.
“What a crock!” he rejoined. “Your friend has already admitted his attempt to collude with the Russians to throw the election to Trump.”
Nothing I could say could dissuade him from his conclusion, but again, no cuffs came out. I also knew he lied, for my friend was a 19-year-old gofer for the campaign who couldn’t recognize a spy even if the word was printed on one.
My work was really fulfilling. I sat in on policy discussions, participated in the back and forth of constructing a working administration. Unfortunately, many items we discussed in confidence with each other found their way into the media. Our ship of state was leaking worse than the proverbial ancient rowboat. Now, those obsessed with secrecy wanted to ferret out the leakers, and it seems that most of the fingers were pointed at me, since I had come to Washington from a deep blue state. (Ed. note: This was a clue to the writer’s identity, but there were about twenty-five in the White House who fit this description, so we couldn’t verify who wrote to us.)
I was not excluded from the policy debates, but it seemed as if all eyes around whatever table we sat at were directed at me. But it did give me a rough few weeks. It seems that my name had been leaked as the probable leaker, and that meant that reporters from The New York Times, The Washington Post and Fox News, among others, dogged my steps waiting for the next leak from my less than sealed lips.
Eventually this faded into the background, as the exodus from Trump’s team continued, with those leaving replaced by better people. Successes were many, but were buried under the constant media attacks on the personages of the President and his minions. There were a couple of sexual “scandals” concerning individuals working in the White House, and in this, too, I was caught up.
What happened was taken out of context, but the maelstrom consumed me for about two weeks. A young woman aide in the campaign who was, let’s say, pleasingly plump, went on a doctor prescribed diet and dropped off the campaign trail in late October. When she came back on the team in March, she had lost a considerable amount of weight.
“Hey, Linda!” I greeted her. “Nice buns. You look great.”
Oops. Wrong choice of words in this highly charged #metoo atmosphere. Of course, someone overheard my words, leaked the harassment to the media and I had a tough time keeping my job. Fortunately the President understood sexual harassment and defended me to friend and foe alike. I survived.
By this time, my stress level was off the charts. With all the information I had accumulated in my time at the highest levels of government, my superiors were worried that I would crack and start damaging the administration with inadvertent disclosures of national secrets. So I was hustled off in the middle of the night to this mental institution to try to de stress and regain my sanity. Doctors tell my I have a 50% chance at full recovery.
I hope this gives a clearer picture of the alleged chaos in the White House. We were just ordinary people doing the best we can. I should get out of here in a few years, but for now I sit here in my strait jacket, in the rubber room, reliving in my mind the “glory days” of working for President Trump.
(Ed., again. We cannot verify much of this narrative, but it might explain some of the news coming out of the Trump administration’s inner workings.)