I can’t write about the specifics of my job here so I have to purposely shroud this tale in an extra layer of mystery, which kind of suits it.

I’ve been on “special assignment” for the past week, which has forced me to get a little bit embroiled in local politics. The big issue I was working on came to a head tonight at City Hall, and, in the aftermath, there was a little bit of cloak and dagger action in the echoing marble hallways, complete with one of my organization’s Bigwigs frantically beckoning me, a whispered conversation in an “authorized personnel” hallway, and having to figure out some strategy on the fly.

Bigwig and I were leaving the building for dinner when we realized we were being tailed by a reporter. Bigwig is not authorized to be on the record so I had to sweatily make up some acceptable soundbites while the Bigwig, the person who basically signs my paychecks, looked on,  scrutinizing every word I was babbling.

At dinner, I proclaimed that the interview felt like “a real Deep Throat moment!” Of course, I meant the anonymous Watergate scandal whistleblower (aka Mark Felt,) and not the porn movie.

I don’t think I’m made for all this political pressure.