Carrying a coffee, having just finished a job interview (not for me, but by me), I’m walking past the University Club. From a distance, I notice a familiar gait. It’s not wobbly or unstable. Bouncy, perhaps? Do I say hi first? Do I ignore your eyes? Am I going to trip, coffee in tow?
“Good morning, Madame President. How are you?,” with a sparkle in his eyes and a smirk on his face.
“Hi, Mr. President. Um, good. You?,” nearly spewing coffee in the nearby bushes.
“Just fine. You have a good day, Libby,” having passed me and turned up the boys’ club stairs.
Never will I doubt my abilty to facilitate clear, articulate thoughts. And I doubt he will.