3 Minute Fiction - My Dinner with the President

- This was another 3-minute fiction assignment from NPR. The prompt was to write something about a president (real or fictitious)

My Dinner with the President

            Soon after being informed that I’d won, it occurred to me that the media would follow close behind. However, I have chosen not to participate in any interviews, but instead to write about the experience myself in an attempt to give you my exact thoughts without alteration or interpretation from third parties.

            I entered the contest out of pure boredom. I was at a mechanic’s, waiting for my car to be fixed, and as I flipped through their collection of magazines I came across an application for the contest. I filled it out, sent it off, and thought nothing more of it until three months later, when I received a letter telling me I had won.

            My family reacted as if I had been invited to dine with God himself. My wife’s family, on the other hand, believed I was being sentenced to supper with the devil. Such have been their opinions of our president since he was elected. Taking little interest in politics, I have remained rather impartial, but in the two weeks that followed I found myself thinking more about my political opinions than ever before. Most of all, I asked myself how I would make the most of my meeting with the president. What questions would I ask him, and what worries or concerns might I express? Perhaps this could be my chance to make a difference.

            Suggestions of all kinds came from my family, friends, and co-workers, but nothing that appealed to me. Finally, when asking my wife what she thought of the matter, she replied, “Why don’t you just get to know him?”

            This idea had never occurred to me, but it now made so much sense. I was content for a while as I imagined what a nice, down-to-earth guy the president probably was. But then it hit me: what if he wasn’t?

            From that point on I could do nothing but hope. It started with little things - I hoped I would like him; that we would get along. But by the end of the two weeks I’d discovered my deepest hope – that I would find him to be a leader undistracted by power, popularity, money, or himself; a leader who cared, above all else, about his people.

           

            The night of the dinner came. A town car arrived to pick me up. On the drive to the restaurant I found myself more nervous then I’d ever thought possible.

            Important looking people met me at the door and ushered me inside to an empty table. They disappeared for a good fifteen minutes, then returned only to inform me that the president had a matter of urgent business and would not be able to attend. Still, they would pay for my meal and drive me home when I finished.

           

            I was stunned for the first half of the meal, disappointed for the second, and bitter all the way home. So this was my answer.

            But then I thought, what if he had missed the dinner for a greater good? Perhaps in the time he had given up dining with a single citizen, he had helped a thousand. And on top of that, how did I ever expect, in one hour, to judge the heart and intentions of a man I was meeting for the first time? It couldn’t be done.

           

            I can only continue to hope.