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MY GUESTBOOK
Things got a little less arctic after the President told us to let her off the hook, and by the time we were preparing for the live Town Meeting on MSNBC most of us were comfortable being around her again. We weren�t back to the way things were before, but, really, there is no way to go back to the ever elusive �before�, no matter what caused the change from �before� to �now�.
A knock on my door causes me to look up from the file that I�ve been staring at while thinking about Mandy, who just happens to be the person who interrupted my musings. �The busses are loading,� she said as she came in and closed the door before sinking down into one of the grey leather chairs across from my desk.
�You need something?� I asked, my eyes flitting from Mandy to my closed office door and then back to Mandy. Office doors weren�t closed around the West Wing unless things were serious or secret, though Toby and I both usually close and lock our offices when we�re writing.
�I�m leaving,� she declared, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. �I can�t do my job when the people I work with don�t trust me, and no one around here has trusted me since the memo got out.�
I had already assumed that she was leaving. It was only a matter of time, really. We couldn�t trust her and if she didn�t have the kind of access that only came when people had complete faith in you she couldn�t do her job. It was that simple. In fact, I was honestly amazed that it took her this long to realize it.
�You can�t blame us, Mandy. You took knowledge that you wouldn�t have if you hadn�t worked for us and you turned it into an instruction manual for beating us. Forgive us if we don�t feel like giving you more ammunition to use against us,� I said.
�That�s the thing. I can�t blame you guys,� Mandy said. �I screwed up, I admit it. And it�s time to move on because it will be easier for you guys to break in a new media director than it will be for me to earn your trust back. So I�m giving you my resignation.�