White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt is stepping down from her position at the end of this month, citing a desire to spend more time with her young children. That stated reason may well be genuine — balancing the demands of the podium with raising two small children is undeniably difficult. Beyond that claim, however, the author of this commentary finds little about Leavitt's tenure to take at face value.

Even Leavitt's farewell social media post, in this author's assessment, was misleading.

The notion that she is leaving because the job overwhelmed her is not credible. Leavitt could likely have continued indefinitely. At 27, she was the youngest person ever appointed to the position since its creation during the Hoover administration, and she demonstrated a consistent ability to layer additional falsehoods atop prior ones throughout her time behind the podium.

If there were an award for the most dishonest presidential press secretary in history, this author argues, Leavitt would win by a landslide — drawing a comparison to what the author characterizes as President Donald Trump's false claims about his election victory being a landslide.

The role of press secretary is inherently grueling. It ranks among the most thankless positions in government even under a president regarded as decent and honest. The press secretary serves as the buffer between an administration and a skeptical press corps, and even in the best circumstances will absorb criticism not personally earned.

Leavitt, however, was suited to the particular version of this role that Trump required, this commentary contends. She was not worn down by the job; by this administration's standards, she performed well. And she will likely find a welcoming audience in the broader GOP landscape.

The author writes from personal experience, having served as a press secretary on Capitol Hill for nearly seven years — a difficult tenure by any measure. During that period, the congressman the author worked for was reprimanded by the U.S. House of Representatives, the first such reprimand in a decade. That congressman fathered a child out of wedlock during a reelection campaign. The campaign prevailed, though the contest was ugly. A federal grand jury investigation also targeted the congressman, who was ultimately cleared.

Through all of it, the author writes, the guiding principle was to tell the truth — or get as close to it as possible. That is the advice universally given to incoming press secretaries: credibility is the only real asset in the role. Once it is lost, nothing remains.

Leavitt, in this author's view, had zero credibility. No one — save, perhaps, for Fox News and Newsmax — took her at her word. The author cannot recall a single instance in which a member of the mainstream press thanked Leavitt for her honesty or for clarifying a matter.

The author acknowledges personal imperfection: under pressure, there were moments when the truth was sidestepped rather than stated plainly. But there was always an understanding that such evasion had limits, and that crossing those limits permanently would carry lasting consequences.

Karoline Leavitt, the author argues, never appeared to learn — or care to learn — that lesson. From the outset, the author contends, she understood that the role required her to be a liar in the mold of her boss. In an administration where, the author asserts, no one lies more prolifically than Donald Trump, Leavitt established herself as a formidable runner-up.

Watching her briefings was, 99 percent of the time, a grotesque and maddening experience, the author writes. Leavitt would take one of Trump's fabrications, turn it over, twist it repeatedly, and attempt to hand it back to the press corps as something credible. It never was.

Equally striking, the author notes, was her demeanor — described as obnoxious and rude, even on her better days. What set Leavitt apart from previous press secretaries who were merely evasive was not the spinning itself, which has always been part of the job. It was that she never once, to the author's recollection, admitted that she or the president had gotten something wrong.

When pressed, every contradiction and every confrontation was reframed as a media conspiracy. Every scandal became evidence that she and Trump were the real victims of a press corps determined to undermine them.

The author believes the role itself worsened Leavitt as a person — hollowing out whatever instinct toward honesty she may have once possessed and replacing it with something unappealing and unforgivable.

The more troubling prospect, the author argues, is who will replace her. How does one fill a position whose effective prerequisite, in this author's characterization, is habitual dishonesty? The communications director is Steve Cheung, described by the author as "repulsive," who would serve as the successor's direct supervisor. The high turnover of the role during Trump's first term — four press secretaries in four years, from Sean Spicer's opening-day crowd-size claims through Kayleigh McEnany's tenure — illustrates how difficult it is to find someone willing to meet the particular demands Trump places on the position.

As for Leavitt, wherever she lands next, the prevarication skills she honed at the podium will follow her. A genuine reckoning, this author suggests, is unlikely. And even if Leavitt were to experience a moment of sudden repentance, the author poses a final question: would anyone believe her?