“You just missed the presidents,” Valerie said. “Have a seat. You can brief Doug and Andy.” Doug Band and Andy Card, respectively Clinton’s and Bush’s chiefs of staff, seemed to know I had been called in last-minute, so there were no hard feelings for my tardiness. (Whew.) I took everyone through the White House outreach plan “to magnify the ways in which our outside partners would help with earned media during the Golden Globes the following day.”
Yes, it was a relatively easy thing to brief somebody on but let me tell you, under the circumstances, I crushed that briefing. As I learned on my second day at the White House (after running to Tina’s office post–Whappy conference call to tell her about the Department of Hot Dogs decision), I knew not to expect a pat on the back for doing my job well. Still, if I’m being honest—considering the 7-Eleven food I was struggling to keep down—I was thankful that I seamlessly executed. Nobody except my friends could tell I was In-Between. I was proud of how far I’d come. I’d gone from not ever having worked in politics before to briefing two presidential chiefs of staff on something of substance without breaking a sweat. (Proverbially. I guess I was still lightly perspiring from running a 5K in businesswear.)
We finished up our meeting and waited for our bosses next to the entrance to the Oval Office. Someone had placed a tray of cookies on a table, but I didn’t think it was smart to test the fortitude of my stomach by having one.
As we stood side by side, all of us serving people who were either currently running the world or had run it before, we talked about normal things: how people’s kids were doing, the fact that it was cardio day for me (done and done), that I might pick up my favorite Chinese food at Great Wall on Fourteenth Street for dinner. It was a reminder of the paradox of the West Wing: that you can stand in the same space where so much history has been made and still debate the ideal spot to get ma-la cold noodles.
The casual banter broke as the presidents started walking out of the Oval, on the way to deliver their sobering announcements. President Obama walked out first—and he didn’t even look at those cookies. Talk about self-discipline. President Clinton exited next. He stopped to take a peek at the cookies, but he didn’t pick one up. “My doctor says these are bad for my heart,” he mentioned to President Bush, who exited last.
President Bush saw the cookies and took one. Then he took another one. He smiled ear to ear, looked off in the distance, and said, “Some people say I don’t even have a heart.”
Standing in the Rose Garden watching the announcement, I felt my BlackBerry vibrate. An email chain with Rhodes and Vietor, who were standing an arm’s length away from me. “Hey, didn’t you do a movie with George Bush?” Tommy wrote. I had, sort of. Actor James Adomian played President Bush in Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay. In a now-iconic scene, Harold and Kumar hang out and smoke weed with him in his Crawford, Texas, ranch. Standing there in my in-between state, feeling proud of my small contribution to this moment, and getting ribbed by my friends a few feet away, I thought about how to respond. This announcement by three presidents was a somber one. I also had a quick flashback to my MILF email and knew I should be cautious in whatever I wrote back. Stifling a laugh, and craving Advil and water, I simply typed, “I can’t believe you put that on PRA.”
1?Oh, you do this too? Hello, friend.
2?42 is President Bill Clinton, the 42nd president of the United States. 43 is President George W. Bush. 44 is President Obama.
3?The last ROTUS of the administration was my former intern Leah Katz-Hernandez. Both are remarkable women, and—shameless plug—you should look them up. This video is an inspirational start: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ubUhTRzREM.
CHAPTER TWENTY #SEXYFACE
I first met Barack HUSSEIN Obama in 2007; we doctored his birth certificate in a secret meeting at a socialist madrasa in Indonesia when… Wait, this isn’t my speech. Who’s operating the teleprompter, Sarah Palin?
–A rejected section from my proposed opening remarks at the 2012 Democratic National Convention.
In all, I had the honor of serving in the Obama Administration for just over two years—a year longer than I initially planned. While the shorter-term victories had been meaningful, I hadn’t wanted to leave until we finished with some of the bigger items I had the privilege of working on: passage of the Affordable Care Act, repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, an attempt at the DREAM Act, doubling the Pell Grant. I felt a sense of grounded humility in knowing there were people whose lives would be better off because of small but consequential decisions our team was part of making. In all, working in government reinforced the reality that when citizens are more involved, good things can happen. When you work at a place like the White House, you realize early on that none of it is actually about you. You take an oath to protect and defend the Constitution, and have the honor of serving the public.
When it was finally time to leave Washington and transition back to my acting career, when I took that photo of Gandhi off my office wall1 and packed it with the American flag I kept on my desk, I felt more hopeful than ever about our collective ability to impact the democratic process. If more people got involved, paid attention, spoke up, and partnered on the issues they cared about, we could push the country so far forward.
I felt lucky too for things in my personal life. Josh had decided to join me for the move back to Los Angeles, and as we settled down on the West Coast, the transition was made even better by my two new jobs. First, a recurring role on season seven of one of my favorite sitcoms, How I Met Your Mother. Then, a holding deal with CBS Television that culminated with a role on the short-lived comedy We Are Men with Tony Shalhoub, Jerry O’Connell, and Chris Smith.
That there was positivity in the move back to LA is not to say there weren’t frustrations or missteps. One of my first film auditions after the White House was supposed to be for a movie in which Denzel Washington plays an airline pilot. For about a week, Spilo excitedly updated me on when I might be called to read for the project. “They’re interested in you!” he’d say. “They’re calling in a few days with more information.”
When nothing materialized a couple of weeks later, I called Dan and learned that one of the producers ultimately felt they couldn’t hire me because they already had a performer of color in the cast.
“They don’t want to waste your time by asking you to come in, since they already know they won’t cast you.”
Curious about my competition, I poked Dan for more info.
“Who else did they cast?”
“Well, Denzel,” he said.
“Wait, you’re saying that they told you I can’t be in the movie because they already have a person of color and that person of color is Denzel Washington?!”
“Something like that, yup.”
“But we aren’t even on the same level!”
“Oh, trust me, I know.”
I got hot-tempered.
“Give me the casting director’s phone number.”