Day after Day, They Stared out from the Lobby Wall
Ernestine Wegman was thrilled when she received her promotion at the Social Security office and moved to the front desk. It became her job to interview each person who came in, to find out what they wanted, try to solve the problem or, failing that, hand them off to one of the specialists in the back.
Her new job absorbed her so that it was six weeks before she gazed out across the lobby and noticed the formal portraits of President Bush and Vice President Cheney hanging on the opposite wall.
At first, Bush and Cheney’s presence seemed perfectly normal. Such portraits hang on thousands and thousands of walls in Federal offices throughout the land. But within a few days, Ernestine realized she had a problem. She couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering back to the two faces. And the more she tried not to look at them, the more they seemed to beckon her.
She would sit there, her eyes flicking from the computer screen to face of the client across the desk. But instead of focusing on the client, her eyes would shift a few degrees and light on Bush and Cheney. Sometimes her eyes became stuck and she would have to shake herself awake.
More than once, a startled client twisted around in the chair to see what Ernestine was staring at. Most saw nothing. But one man realized the portraits had distracted her.
“Sorta makes you want to puke, eh?” he said sympathetically.
Ernestine said nothing. Political discussions were forbidden.
She bought a sun visor and positioned it so that by cocking her head just so the visor blocked out Bush-Cheney. This provided some relief, but a painful crick developed in her neck. Then a supervisor announced that the visor was making clients anxious.
One evening as Ernestine climbed the steps to her apartment, she discovered that Bush and Cheney had come home with her. She fleetingly glimpsed their faces in the hall mirror. Later, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she whirled around, momentarily thinking their portraits were hanging on the wall over the toilet.
This experience frightened her. She tossed and turned in bed, wondering if she might be going around the bend. As she finally drifted off to sleep, Ernestine decided she must confront the portraits, make peace with them.
The next morning she rummaged in the closet for her late mother’s opera glasses. She left for work 30 minutes early, leaving plenty of time to be alone with the portraits before the doors opened to the public.
Ignoring the guard’s quizzical look when he saw a Social Security Administration employee arriving early for work, Ernestine took her place behind the counter and dug out the opera glasses. Her heart pounded. As she adjusted the knob and the pictures swam into focus, she gasped. Bush and Cheney were right there with her at the counter!
She studied Bush first. A younger Bush than the haggard, graying man you saw on television. A bit of stubble around his chin. Hmmm. They should have retouched that.
No. Truth in government. The president you see is the president you get.
The Bush eyes. They hinted at a twinkle. Hiding a private joke perhaps? A wide smile, but too wide. A bit of a… a smart ass smile. Or was it sardonic?
No lower teeth. A smile with upper teeth only. What hidden meaning lurked there?
Ernestine counted the teeth. Ten. Well, nine and half. The edge of the lip hid part of the tenth tooth. That’s a lot of teeth for a smile, she thought. Too many teeth, way too many.
Ernestine’s heart raced even more. Confrontation wasn’t helping. She took a breath and shifted the glasses to Cheney.
Bald! The man had no hair. Well, a fringe of hair. What was the saying? Bald as a billiard ball. Did the Vice President play billiards and joke with his friends as he lined up a shot?
Abruptly, Ernestine giggled. She pictured the vice presidential valet coming into the bedroom each night to polish the vice president bald spot. Now she laughed out loud. Maybe confrontation was helping after all.
She turned to the Cheney smile. Oh my! Not really a smile. Lips pursed, not a tooth showing, the line of the sealed lips listing sharply southward. Not a smile at all. More a… a smirk! What was he hiding behind those lips clamped shut? Surely he must display his teeth in a moment of mirth. Or maybe doesn’t have any teeth.
Ernestine laid the glasses down and took a deep breath. Her heart was returning to normal. Yes, confrontation was the answer. A feeling of relief crept slowly over her. Maybe she could put this Bush-Cheney demon to rest.
She leaned forward across the counter so she could see the guard’s desk. It was empty. He must be in the bathroom. Fifteen minutes until they opened the door to the public.
Ernestine rummaged in a desk for black felt-tipped pen. She hurried around to the lobby door, crossed to the portraits, and set to work drawing on the glass that covered them.
First, she penciled in some lower teeth for the President, deepening his smile. Then she blacked out two of his upper teeth.
Glancing furtively around, she turned to the Vice President and drew a bright smiley face in the middle of the bald spot. Then she set to work leveling out the smile and putting in some upper and lower teeth.
Back at the desk, Ernestine gazed across the lobby at her artwork. Another giggle bubbled up. Out, out, demon. Be gone!
How long it would be before someone in officialdom noticed the changes and ordered her art work removed? She made a bet with herself that it would be weeks, maybe even months.
Meanwhile, what fun to sit with her clients solving their problems and watching the reaction of those waiting in the lobby as they noticed the President’s and Vice President’s makeovers.