Abraham Lincoln could be, and often was, a real pain in the neck. Let's suppose you, a college graduate, had made your way through local and state government; that you’d assiduously polished your résumé; that you had gone on to spend years climbing the Washington D.C. greasy poll; that you’d mastered the time-honored art of working a room with consummate ease, comfortable in that sophisticated setting [what a later generation would call The Beltway]; and, at this most crucial point in American history when the country was coming apart at the seams, you were now asked to join President Abraham Lincoln’s cabinet.
Challenges that others would run from as overwhelming you clutch to your bosom gladly because they’ll prove your mettle. You had achieved what for many was the panicle of ambition.
So far so good.
But be aware that you’d probably be annoyed, to put it mildly, being up close and personal with this lanky, ah-shucks prairie lawyer, with 17 years of experience as a member of a two-man law firm from Podunk, Illinois [if you went any further west from Springfiield you’d fall off!], a man country to the core, full of time-wasting, corny, cracker-barrel jokes, whose kids on a regular basis would burst into cabinet meetings to jump on their daddy’s lap And Disturb Everythinng.
And you’d have to stifle your urge to burst in and say, “LET’S GET ON WITH IT!”
After all, he’s the boss, isn't that right?
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