. . . . Bibi-whatnow? Sounds like a match made in heaven with my old compliance director, Baldev Bhogal. (Not kidding.) One of our auditors asked once how I'd learned to pronounce his name because nobody could ever get it right, and died laughing when I confessed the real answer: in my head, whenever I read his name I always hear Rod Serling gravely intoning "Next week, we find out! Will Superman defeat Baldev Bhogal, the newest menace of Metropolis City?"
I nominate JBUCK!!
. . . . actually, I have a nominee probably none of you have ever heard jack about, but I can back this up. His name is Neil Lambert, and if you've heard of my pop star crush on Adam Lambert, you can guess whose little brother Neil is.
BUT! I am not basing this on cuteness alone (although Neil is adorable). No, Neil was a poli-sci major whose major led him to become quite the pragmatist, and he came with a built-in set of brains; when Adam started his first tour, Neil asked if he could come along as a roadie. Adam said okay and Neil started out chucking cases onto trucks. By the end of the tour six months later he'd worked his way up into this weird position where he was part PR, part security, part roadie, and also Adam's production assistant (analogous in music to the theatrical stage manager--basically, he was second in command to only Adam, and he also happened to throw things onto trucks). If you wanted to get something done and Adam wasn't available, Neil would either get it done or explain to you very concisely why it couldn't happen--and when a technological disaster struck in Paris and wiped out a bunch of stuff fans had paid hard-earned money for, Neil was the one who masterminded the solution in only four days.
And--oh, sorry, did I mislead you into believing he did all this in six months? So sorry--all of the roadies from the US portion of the tour went home when Adam went to Asia. Neil pulled off that climb up the ladder in three
months. So he was learning to read cues, operate a soundboard (as a former theatre major, I can't believe it took him less than a year to do this, much less only a QUARTER of one), talk to deejays and music execs, and control a crew of approx. 60 people--all while doing a completely different job
. (Also, when Adam needs math for something, guess who sits down and sorts out Adam's befuddled, can't-do-this-math-thing alphabet soup of numbers? The fact that Neil can do the math isn't all that amazing, but the fact that he can make sense of Adam's math and then turn it into real math is exactly the kind of skill someone running the Mint needs. If you're wondering how bad the addition and subtraction of a 30-year-old man can possibly be, especially when he's trained in music . . . um, well. His math makes me feel better about my math, especially when he thinks "four hours" after 2pm = midnight.)
If he can do that, he can do pretty much anything. "Learning on the job" isn't even it. And the softhearted, softheaded sentimentalism that keeps the cent around and stodgily declares that we must have a nickel just as it has always been, so it has been, so it will be, is so alien to him he'd probably look at the board of execs, blink, and go " . . . are you KIDDING me? Can you do math . . . pretty much AT ALL? Give me one good reason we still have a one-cent coin and I'll let you keep it. ONE good reason. You don't even need two."
So yes. He isn't old enough to be President. He should be the Mint Director instead