Dinner With Obama

"Dinner with Obama"

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 a 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 creme brulee. 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

suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million

teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands.

"You should have stopped me at the dinner roll," he

said.