Just two days into her job, Katie Zacharia already has a stopwatch ticking.
Her debut briefing as White House press secretary on Tuesday was, as Thomas Hobbes might have pithily put it, nervous, bumbling and short.
The social media reviews of Zacharia’s opening 15 minutes of fame— roughly half of it spent reading out Donald Trump’s achievements, ZachGPT style—were uncharitable.
She took questions from three reporters and then wrapped up ahead of the president’s departure for Alaska, leaving the imploring yells of unrequited reporters behind her.
CNN's Peter Alexander cited a high-level Trump administration official, whose prediction was grim: "I think she is going to be a train wreck."
Perhaps the coldest review of all came from an unnamed White House official who told MS NOW’s Jake Traylor: “She needs to get much better, fast, otherwise she’ll break Scaramucci’s record.”
Liberal journalist Aaron Rupar said Zacharia made her predecessor, Karoline Leavitt, “seem like Winston Churchill.” A handful of critics accused her of breaching the Hatch Act by plugging Trump’s midterm rallies from the lectern.
Some of that criticism is fair, if a little cruel. But a first briefing is a famously poor guide to how long a press secretary lasts.
Zacharia—Trump’s sixth, on her second day in the job—perhaps deserves a longer clock than the one a colleague just started for her. One that at least runs for a few more days.
Consider the Mooch himself, a charismatic communicator.
Anthony Scaramucci’s briefing-room debut as communications director on July 21, 2017, was a charm offensive that ended with him blowing a kiss to the press corps.
He was out on July 31, one of John Kelly’s first acts as chief of staff—10 days, or 11 by his own count, which is how his name became a unit of political time.
(He later clocked Liz Truss’ premiership in Britain at 4.1 Scaramuccis.)
The man who quit within hours of Scaramucci’s hiring had managed perhaps the most notorious debut in modern memory.
Sean Spicer, who had run communications at the RNC since 2011, used his first podium appearance to insist falsely that Trump’s inauguration had drawn “the largest audience to ever witness an inauguration—period,” then took no questions.
He still lasted six months—more than 16 Scaramuccis, if you’re counting. Stephanie Grisham never held a single briefing in nine months, citing how often Trump took questions himself.
By those standards, three questions is a respectable start for Zacharia.
Democratic White Houses aren’t immune, either. Karine Jean-Pierre had spent more than a year as Jen Psaki’s principal deputy, briefing from the same lectern, before taking over in 2022.
Days before that year’s midterms, she denounced “mega MAGA Republican officials” from the podium — remarks the Office of Special Counsel later found violated the Hatch Act, earning her a warning letter.
It is the same charge now aimed at Zacharia. Jean-Pierre stayed until Joe Biden left office.
Of course, the real lesson of the Scaramucci era is that the clock is set by the boss, not the briefing room. Zacharia called Trump “his own best spokesperson,” and in this White House that is more than just flattery. It’s a job description.
A president who fields so many questions himself leaves his press secretary as the warmup act.
And let’s be honest: Trump doesn’t always stick to a predictable script. Pity the press secretary who tries to preempt him.
It’s also a different sport from the cable-news punditry that made Zacharia her name.
No friendly host, no commercial break, just grizzled hacks barking awkward questions. Well, the non-MAGA ones anyway.
Moreover, Zacharia still made news, announcing that scandal-struck Kimberly Guilfoyle had been asked to resign as ambassador to Greece.
The critics may still be right about Zacharia’s fate. Fifteen-minute briefings won’t survive three weeks of midterm scrutiny, and harder questions—about posts she has deleted, among other things—are coming.
But Washington has a long habit of mistaking first impressions for forecasts.
If Zacharia is still at the podium on October 23, she will have outlasted the Mooch by anyone’s count—with precisely one Scaramucci left until Election Day.