Outspoken Poet's Blog

Dinner at The White House , A Parable ( don't miss
the last sentence....)

Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for
a private dinner with the President. I am a respected
businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and
portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was
being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live
in a free country. There's nothing that the government can
do to me if I've broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an
invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff,
and joined the President in a yellow dining room. We sat
across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal
was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.

The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter
suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and
began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.

"Sorry about that," said the President. "Andrew is very
hungry."

"I don't appreciate..." I began, but as I looked into the calm
brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty
and petty. It was just a dinner roll. "Of course," I
concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.

"And his brother, Eric, is very thirsty." said the President.


I didn't say anything. The President is testing my compassion,
I thought. I will play along. I don't want to seem unkind.

My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.
"Eric's children are also quite hungry."

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled
out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as
it was carried from the room.
"And their grandmother can't stand for long."

I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside
feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House
to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had
been taken. I turned back to the President.

"Their grandfather doesn't like the cold."

I wanted to shout, "that was my coat!" But again, I looked at
the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was
being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt
my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and
walked to a phone on an elegant side table I learned shortly that my credit
cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and
equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our
home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The
President hadn't moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I
lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him.

"Andrew's whole family has made bad financial decisions. They
haven't planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently
defaulted on their subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your
home. They need it more than you do."

My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back
to the table and knelt on the floor. The President cheerfully
cut his meat, ate his steak, and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes
and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that were water
drops.

"By the way," He added, "I have just signed an Executive Order
nationalizing your factories. I'm firing you as head of your business.
I'll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There's
a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can't come to you
for jobs groveling like beggars."

I looked up. The President dropped his spoon into the empty
ramekin which had been his crème Brule. He drained the last drops of
his wine.


As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and
leaned back in his chair. He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the
table as if were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I
thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had
earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I
punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and
lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that
there was no game board between us.

What had I done wrong?

As if answering the unspoken thought, the President
suddenlycocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and
bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands and said
…………

“You should have stopped me at the dinner roll."