How embarrassing. Dunning letters have been shot out to Wonderful White Housers who have not paid their bills at the new Executive Office Building VIP Dining Room. ("It is imperative that this bill be paid immediately . . .") Ear says "VIP." Actually, darlings, the chic eaterie holds about 35 "P"s at a time; they're from about 150 who aren't quite "I" enough to gobble gumbo in the White House Mess Itself, but too "I" to sprint over to McDonald's. The EOB-VIPer simply oozes ambiance. Picture, please, luxe emerald-and-rust carpeting, twinkly chandeliers, paneling-and-burlap walls, filmy curtains and marble buffet groaning with silver salvers of saute'ed trout; there are fresh-cut flowers, plug-in phones, Jockey Club-style, and, darlings, genuine bacon bits, which not even the White House Mess Itself can boast. Its creator was young White House perkmeister John F.W. Rogers. (John holds the Key to the White House Gym and dishes all the status-y model ships to the utter upper crust over there.) The New Cash Squeeze is all bitterly ironic, because the VIP Dining Room lunch only costs six bucks a toss, or four for the Summer Special, not counting wine or beer. Still, there will be no more cries of "Dab it on my tab." Cash, checks, cards and gratuity "left at your discretion" are demanded--up front. And la ronde rolls on.