You can say something like, “Wow, Anthony from that think tank sent me a passionate email about the president’s foreign policy strategy,” or “Anthony from that nonprofit has such a peculiar take on leadership!” People in DC will know that you actually mean Anthony is one hundred percent completely batshit crazy.
In the rarest of situations only, you might actually need to use the word crazy. At these times, close your office door, lower your voice to a bare whisper when you reach the offending word, and affect the same kind of apologetic tone that white ladies use when they say things like, “Linda, it’s just terrible. She has cancer.” And “Oh, Bethany, I’m sure she’d love to go on a date with him but he’s gay.” Like that, you can say, “Anthony is straight-up crazy.”
But in general, try to avoid the word altogether.
Tip E: White House Snail Mail Is NOT like Fan Mail!
Passionate emails with girthy signatures can be annoying. Colorful snail mail… now that’s just fun! In your old life, your publicist weeded out the weirdest notes your fans sent you. Now, the Secret Service handles this task, except you’re not getting any letters about your spread in People magazine’s “Sexiest Men Alive” issue, and they’re filtering for anthrax, not for crazy.1 So, get used to receiving random items in the mail, including:
trash （yes, actual, physical garbage）
tiny bits of paper with weird nonsensical slogans scribbled on them, including gems like: “Because of the triumph of the spider in metaphysics” and “Nocturnal challenges await the waited”
random, unmarked CDs （obviously, don’t try to play them or insert them into any computers）
Post-it Notes about conspiracy theories stapled to articles
Post-it Notes about conspiracy theories not stapled to articles
long manifestos claiming to be from the real president
rants from people claiming to be intergalactic commanders
a weirdly stapled packet of color photos, including pics of someone’s great-grandfather and directions to his house along with the handwritten caption: “This is my house. Here are the directions. You can come over and I will cook you yummy Indian food.”
really sweet notes from former ambassadors with absolutely incredible names.
It doesn’t feel this way, but you’re getting a window into America: a place with shadow presidents, would-be intergalactic commanders, and （Ambassador） Dick Swett. Appreciate these notes. You’ll miss them when you go back to acting, and your fan mail is being screened for content instead of poison.
Tip F: Be Attentive, and Be Careful What You Agree To
One day, you’ll need a haircut. You’ll google “Barber, Dupont Circle DC.” Raucous Rodolpho will have an opening right away.
“Kal! Penn!” he will shout, staring at you in the mirror, eyes wide. “Wow man, it’s really you! How’s Obama?”
DC is a smaller city than most people realize, and word about political hirings and firings spreads quickly. Even among the nonpolitical crowd—in bakeries, barbershops, and bookstores—people follow what’s happening with a microscopic intensity not found elsewhere in America. Raucous Rodolpho will have heard about your job at the White House. “I’m askin’ cuz I’m not just a barber, man, I own a tapas bar too, you need to come check it out, man! And hey! You should bring Obama!”
Nobody is immune to awkward barber small talk, but the Obama factor really turns it up a notch. You’re no stranger to this, having watched similar situations accelerate quickly during your time on the campaign. Remember when people would tell you—not ask you—that you should bring Obama to all sorts of random places—restaurants, schools, sweet sixteens? That will ramp up even more now that he’s president, starting with Raucous Rodolpho. “How big is your office, man? HEY. How many people? You should bring your whole office to my tapas bar, man! AYYYY, free tapas-bar goodness for everybody! We open at eleven a.m. every day. Michelle can come too!”
Always politely decline these kinds of invitations right off the bat. Good-natured as they are, they’re also impractical and against the rules. We can’t speak for any shadiness before or after our administration, but during Obama world orientation, each White House aide will be shuffled into an auditorium and put through a no-nonsense ethics briefing:
Keep all work and personal emails separate.
For your protection, always hide your security badge after you exit the complex.
Don’t accept free anything.
That last one is a biggie: The president has made it clear—no White House aide should be perceived to be endorsing a private business, accepting gifts, or leveraging their position at the White House. Even the mere optics of any special benefits is not okay with the boss. The president and senior staff had to turn down expensive watches gifted to them by the king of Saudi Arabia, and you’ll need to decline the free tapas-bar invite.
You’ll explain the situation to Raucous Rodolpho, who instead will double down: “Look, man. I’m a small-business owner from a minority background. I got this barber shop, and I got my tapas bar. It would be such an absolute honor to have you guys there. If you can’t accept anything for free, I’ll charge you. And you can leave a big tip! I just want you to come, and I guarantee… you’ll all have a great time.”
“I’ll tell you what, man,” you’ll say, eager to change the subject, “why don’t you give me your card. If we’re planning a staff holiday party or an out-of-office event that needs a bar, I’ll definitely give you a shout.” Raucous Rodolpho will light up. He’ll hand you his business card, which you’ll slip into your back pocket. Don’t encourage his excitement further. Keep things professional.
That night, you’ll empty your pockets onto your nightstand: keys, some change, and Raucous Rodolfo’s tapas-bar card. You’ll look at it for the first time: a glossy black background with a long, thin drawing of a barber pole running down the center. Why is there a naked woman swinging on that barber pole? Just underneath her exposed cartoon breasts you’ll find the name of the tapas bar emblazoned in shiny block letters. This is where you agreed to potentially have the White House Office of Public Engagement holiday party: RODOLFO’S LADIES: TOPLESS BAR.
Topless, not tapas. Be attentive. And be careful what you agree to.
Tip G: Be the Best Gatekeeper You Can Be
You shouldn’t hang around with sketchy characters. That’s good life advice in general. As it applies to your government job, you’ll be putting together meetings and briefings for POTUS that include community leaders from outside the White House world. That can turn into a bit of a process.
You have to collect their Social Security number and send it to the Secret Service for a background check. Then, their online and offline profiles are analyzed by the research team to make sure there’s nothing offensive, incendiary, or otherwise potentially distracting from the work everyone is doing for the Office of the President of the United States. That research department will be led by an amazing woman named Liz Jarvis-Shean. Be good to Liz. She’s a saint. She also has a couple of bottles of really nice scotch on a shelf, which she’ll share with you on especially late nights at the office.