Madam President ✓

101. Lynn

November 3rd, 2016
(Election Night)

My job ranks last on the list of best places to work in federal government. There's just no other way to describe it besides hell on earth- yet they manage to pass it off as rewarding to know that you were part of the 1.28% of your class to make it through each stage of training.  For security reasons the way they do it varies each year, but when I was there it went like this:

We started off with the standard applications like we were joining the military. Most potential agents made it past that stage. The second stage was your standard background check- just way more in depth. Most applicants failed that one. The ones who did make it through received a phone call telling us our transportation was paid for and we were expected at that facility in seven days.

We had no idea what to expect, but we were greeted with security going through our bags and confiscating all communications devices( which we wouldn't get back for multiple months, until they finally let us call our families.) An hour later the lie detector tests started, during which they asked us if we'd ever had suicidal or intrusive thoughts of killing someone. The tester showed no mercy to 21 year old me- who'd wanted to do something protecting high value individuals for a while, but had been stuck in the LAPD.

"When was the last time you imagined killing President Stays?" She kept a straight face, though I knew it was a trick question.

"Never." I calmly replied, because I hadn't.

"What about any other politician? I mean you can't lie, we've all thought about killing the ones we disagree with from time to time."

"Never." I repeated myself. "Even the ones I despise on a personal level."

"Really? And you don't believe you would bring that political resentment into work?"

"I know I wouldn't." On her monitor, the lines representing my heart rate and sweat levels didn't go higher than they were supposed to. She smiled for half a second.

"Congratulations. You're the first one to pass stage 3."

I was the seventy-second person to enter that room.

She dismissed me, and those of us who did pass were given the rest of the day to settle in. There was a mom and pops style cafe on the grounds, right next to a little convenience store- so I picked up a latte and walked a few extra feet after almost choking on a dry blueberry muffin. I grabbed a prepackaged one off a shelf, turned around- and he was working the counter. I didn't know it at the time, but he would become the most toxic on and off again boyfriend I'd ever had- and still have now because of how good a manipulator he is.

  On day two the real training began- which was also broken up into stages. They started with physical since they said it would be the easiest.

  The general fitness standards we're required to keep up are stricter than any other law enforcement agency in the country. Being in the secret service for three years, I can't remember the last time I stepped on a scale and saw a number higher than 120.

  They had us shoot at moving targets for entire weeks in various simulated scenarios- everything from an unlikely White House invasion by foreign powers to the standard assassination attempt by a deranged citizen. We practiced hand to hand almost as long, though they acknowledged the likelihood of needing it weren't as high. Most people aren't dumb enough to punch secret service.

  We had to run twenty miles, purposefully pick a partner twice our size and shoot at moving targets without breaks- seventeen times. A lot of people failed there too. I did not.