The oval office is crowded- filled to the brim with white men in suits, most of whom are glancing at Harold with drawn, dire expressions. They seem to regard him as an anomaly, a political stunt, or even a distraction like so many tweets meant to divert a nation’s attention from reality.
In a few minutes of adult-time, but a lifetime in kid-time, the President, and Harold’s new boss, enters the room. Harold watches from his own huge leather chair as all the other men stand to greet him. Some step forward and shake hands or pat him on the back.
Harold notices that through each interaction, none of the other men mentioned the negative things they’d been conversing about regarding the President before he entered the room.
President Trump takes his seat at the head of the table. Harold sees that unquestionably he is in charge as he has a huge chair, the biggest chair in the room, bigger than anyone’s.
“Thank you all for coming here,” the President begins in a serious tone. “As you all know the biased media, with their fake news about this administration’s collusion with Russia- I mean alleged and totally false and sad - did I mention sad? - collusion with Russia have caused my approval rating to plummet.”
The men around the room nod heartily.
“So it’s with that concern in mind that I have sought out a new image consultant. He comes highly recommended, he is truly the best, and believe me I know all the best image consultants. With his youth, intellect and unique skill set, he is going to help us truly make America great again. Everyone, please welcome Harold. ”
Harold sees them, the way they stare at him as he stands to speak, with their darting, snake-like eyes. He can tell they consider him to be different and thus not worthy of their respect or even idle consideration. Harold began to think, to slowly realize, he was everything they were not: young, poor, respectful of others, and unafraid. Although he could see they were most certainly afraid, Harold wasn’t quite sure what men of their stature would fear.
“Thank you President Trump. Thank you all, let me get started by throwing out some numbers; 4.7 million, 28%, ½.”
The old men before him stared back with raised eyebrows and looks that told even the casual observer they were lost.
“Mr. Trump, if I could speak freely sir?”
The President nodded to Harold.
“With all due respect sir- Mr. President, I’m a kid and even I can see that politicians-along with most people- are full of shit.”
Gasps rang out from all over the room.
Harold flushed a bit, but continued his speech, “America’s full of it sir.”
Now groans came from the crowd, though President Trump still listened at full attention. “It’s full of greatness already. The problem isn’t that we lack greatness, it’s the fact that we are constipated with greatness sir, we don’t know how to get it out.”
Some of the men around the room began whispering to those next to them.
“So you see sir, as your new image consultant, my recommendation isn’t to rework your image from the ground up. We only need to change one word.”
Harold holds up a finger as he removes a small remote from his pocket. Pressing the button a large banner unfurls from behind the President’s seat.
Harold keys in on the President to see his reaction.
A true moment passes, then a single, shimmering tear rolls down his cheek, and Mr. Trump stands and begins clapping with fervor.
