Francesca Hodges
In the office, he is revered as a defendant of public good, an investigator to weed out Washington’s worst, a suit amongst the best of suits. There is much that rides on the name Mobert Rueller. A Princeton graduate, Bronze Star Medal recipient for his heroism in the Vietnam War, and now the head of the Special Investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 election. His face has the stony exterior that his previous stint as the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for 13 years hammered into existence. His image of importance is kept clean with pristine tailored suits and shining silver cufflinks. Whenever Rueller strides through the office, fear is struck into lower-level employees as interns start to sweat.
As Rueller leaves his work for the day and rolls into his suburban home, something is different. Something has changed. He steps out of his Mercedes, but polished leather dress shoes are no longer. In their place: New Balance white stocky trainers. Cargo shorts instead of slacks. A golf polo instead of a pressed shirt. Bob Bueller has arrived.
Equipped with his best jokes, Bob Bueller gets ready to outshine his wife at today’s neighborhood barbeque. With his “Kiss the Chef” apron, he is unstoppable. His wife asks for a stock up on soft drinks to keep the Anderson kids at bay during the party. They don’t want the Fourth of July incident to repeat itself. The Bueller’s dog, Jasper, never recovered from the fireworks set off under his butt.
Before the festivities can get underway, Bueller must pick up his three beautiful, blonde, smiling children from their various generic after-school activities. Forget the Mercedes, Bueller now pimps out his blue Honda Odyssey minivan—with the compactable third row.
The kids are now dressed in their weekend country club best. The meat has been marinating in Bueller’s secret barbeque sauce for quite some time. Mrs. Bueller has decked the backyard out to highlight their freshly painted white picket fence; the whole affair looks straight out of a Home Living spread.
Time to strike up conversation: Bueller avoids any mention of his job, the current investigation. After all, he wouldn’t want to break his confidentiality contract or offend the Johnsons down the street—- who today are donning their red and white signature hats. Instead, he stays the devoted host by offering sliders and soft drinks to all his guests.
After a long day, Bueller scours his prized grill that really made the day a success. Tomorrow in the office, different challenges will arise, but if he can run a family weekend barbeque, Bueller knows the sky’s the limit. Today was the perfect day off, and perhaps after his work has finished, the big man will be getting some time off too.
