President Trump is completely failing at his job, of course, and I just wanted to chime in and let you all know that I, too, am making the presidency WAY harder than it has to be.
It’s not just that Mr. Trump has a crippling fear of some crazy lib trying to poison his food. Or that his only solution for this fear is to eat McDonald’s four-and-a-half meals a day. It’s not even about his greatest fear: that they will discontinue the Super Mario Happy Meal toys before he has a chance to collect the little cardboard pinball machine.
The dilemma—which he cannot fully digest—is that even I, the highly specialized Cheeseburger Valet he hired at the beginning of his term, is working to thwart his every misdeed. That’s right, I am one of the employees being a huge jerk to him.
I am also taking credit for doing next to nothing in secret.
To be clear, I am not trying to harm the president. Have you seen him when there are no cameras around? He’s very frumpy and pathetic-looking. I could never hurt that pouty little plutocrat.
But I believe my first duty is to very, very slightly ruin all of the president’s meals, and in some cases even sway his never-ending powerlust with my own power: the curation of impossibly disappointing fast-food orders.
Remember last year, when that little boy nicknamed “Pickle” wrote a letter to the president that Sarah Huckabee Sanders read to the press?
Well, now Mr. Trump is convinced that all pickles are somehow made from people named “Pickle” and is terrified of them. So, despite his constant assertion that he should never get pickles in his order, I make sure there is always a pickle somewhere. Lurking. Often at the bottom of the fries, tainting their flavor in secret.
You know those Coca-Cola Freestyle machines, where you can put some grape or lime corn syrup in the Coke? Mr. Trump does not know these exist, but every day I alternate hints of different fruit flavors into his Coke.
Once I stopped at a local 7-Eleven and put a tiny squirt of the new Cap’n Crunch Crunch Berry-flavored Slurpee in his Coke. “Did you put cereal in this Coke?” he asked, then immediately followed up with “No, no, that doesn’t make sense. How could you? Did you, though? Wait, never mind.”
Oh man, you should see his face when he drinks the Cokes. One time he Googled “my tongue tastes coke funny am i having stroke.”
The result is a three-track presidency.
There’s Trump doing what he wants, his staff constantly undermining him to get what THEY want, and the hours upon hours that the president spends getting upset because the staff at the local McDonald’s seems to be super mean to him.
For instance, Mr. Trump loves barbecue sauce and always wants it for his Chicken McNuggets. “Remember to get the spice bath for my chicken chunks,” he’ll tell me. But I tell him there is no more barbecue sauce. I say there’s a special brown powder in it that America can only get from Russia, and unless he’s tougher on Russia he’ll never get his yummy little spice bath again.
I’m hoping this will somehow make him tougher on Russia. For now, it’s just supremely irritating.
The writer is the White House Senior Fast-Food Valet, which now counts as a senior official in the Trump administration.