A little flight of fancy here.(1) You are stacking dishes in the kitchen of the restaurant where you work the evening shift when a well-dressed courier arrives at the back door. "The owner won't be back until tomorrow," you tell him.

"I am not looking for the owner, I am looking for you."

"Huh?"

"I am from the White House," he says, which explains the dark suit and briefcase. "I came to deliver this letter."

"Huh?" Part of you wonders what you have done wrong. Another part of you wonders if this isn't a joke your cousin Alfred is playing to get back at you for the horseradish in his car. And all of you thinks this guy has the wrong person. But you dry your hands on your apron and take what the man hands you. It is a personal letter. There is an emblem on the envelope and your name is writt…