I got my blood tested and my background checked and my political affiliations confirmed. Then I became a proud member of the maintenance and housekeeping crew at the Bush White House. The President himself shook my hand on his way out of the third floor men's. 'Don't tell anyone you haven't got a Green Card, Jose,' he quipped. Then he got seriously presidential. 'The towel dispenser in there is empty,' he said. 'That is unacceptable.'

'Yes, Mr. President.' My smile turned to a military mien. 'Unacceptable. I understand.'

The Secretary of State walked by in time to intercept our conversation. 'Jose knows what he needs to do,' she said to the President. Turning to me she said, 'Jose, I urge you to do what you know you must do.'

I opened a utility closet beside us and pulled out a fresh container of liquid soap. The President and Madame Secretary walked on together as I entered the men's and did what I knew I had to do.  

That afternoon I was emptying a clothes dryer of linen napkins in the White House basement when the Secretary of Defense, often accused of micromanaging the government, opened a dryer and began folding the linen on a nearby table. 'Clean and fold,' he said in his determined way. 'Clean and fold, that's the ticket.' For a man of ninety or whatever he was, he was quite a bundle of energy.

'You bet it's the ticket, sir,' I said. 'And I don't leave that for someone else to do. I'm fully accountable for it.'

The Vice President joined us, eating a turkey leg. 'Give the lad a break, Don,' he said. 'Jose knows what he has to do.'

'As long as he knows what he must do, then,' said the Secretary of Defense. 'For me to repeat it would be like carrying fleas to Barney.'

'If I don't know,' I said, 'I can have bilateral talks with the First Lady, to find out.'

'Pig puppies,' said the Secretary of Defense, testily. 'I know for a fact the First Lady has gone over policy again and again. The new housekeeper knows what he needs to do.' 

The Vice President picked up a freshly laundered napkin and wiped the turkey grease from his face and hands. Then he held the soiled linen out to me. 'This is unacceptable,' he stated, 'and I hold you fully accountable.' Before I could take it, he dropped it on the floor.  

The President entered, a bread roll in his hand, chewing with his mouth open. 'There's no napkins upstairs, Jose,' he said, grabbing a clean one off the table. 'Do you think that's acceptable?' He shot me a penetrating look that told me I was crossing a line. I told him I was fully accountable and vowed to do better.

The next day I squatted in the White House driveway, working a windshield scraper over some dried bird droppings that were stuck on a Presidential limo. The President came by as I was chipping away at them.

'Those droppings are unacceptable,' he said. Critically, he surveyed my work in the afternoon sun. 'You know what you must do.'

'You may hold me fully accountable, sir,' I said, not stopping my work. 'I'll scrape until they're gone.'

'That would be a bold initiative,' he said.

We were joined by the Secretary of State, who wrinkled up her nose at the whitish flecks I was trying to remove, and then looked up in the trees. 'Those birds cross the line,' she said. 'Anyone can see the gravity of the situation.'

The front passenger door of the car opened and the Vice President stepped out. I didn't know anyone was in there. 'It is a grave development,' he said, standing by us. 'My guess is it built up through the last administration. It's Clinton's fault.' He must have heard us through the car window.

I didn't want to play the blame game, and silently kept on scraping at the stuck-on matter.

The US UN Ambassador came strolling up the drive and took in the situation at once. 'Those birds have committed a most provocative act,' he said.

The Secretary of Defense got out of the limo from the driver's seat. I hadn't seen him in there either. He joined the Secretary of Defense in looking up into the overhanging tree where dozens of birds were roosting. 'These critters need to dust off their wings and fly on down the road.'

'I could park the limos somewhere else,' I said, 'where there aren't any trees.'

'No, no, no, no, no,' said the President. 'Our agreed-on policy is we park them here. To park them in another spot would be unacceptable.'  

'Unacceptable,' echoed the UN Ambassador.

The President passed gas noisily, then turned to me.

'That, however,' he said, shooting me his trademark wink, 'is acceptable.'