A Fighting Chance

So the question was: What’s the right way to set up an agency that will be under constant attack? The usual answer in Washington: Go slowly. Tread carefully. Don’t offend anyone.

Not me. I thought the agency should go fast and fight hard right from the beginning. (Surprise, right?) The banks wouldn’t hesitate to attack us aggressively in the battles to come, and I figured that nobody wins this sort of fight by worrying too much about stepping on toes. I believed that if people saw what the CFPB could do—if millions of consumers were actually helped—then people would keep fighting for it.





Trust the President

In early September, I was invited back to Washington for a second meeting with the president.

While he finished up a long call, I sat in the tiny waiting area. This time he walked me through the Oval Office and suggested we sit outside. He said there wouldn’t be many more summer days, so we should enjoy the weather while it lasted.

“Enjoy” was a relative term, because it was hot—really hot—and humid. The president wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, and he looked relaxed and cool. I had dressed for air-conditioning, and after two minutes outside, I probably looked as if I were going to burst into flames. I wore a blazer with a shell underneath, but the shell was skimpy enough that I didn’t feel right about shedding my jacket in front of the leader of the free world. Everything I was wearing felt glued to my body.

It was just the two of us, sitting at a little outdoor table. Once again, I didn’t have much chance to look around, but the space was tightly enclosed by dense hedges and felt small—and there was no breeze at all. The president described it as a hidden retreat. I thought it felt like a green version of hell.

The president dived straight in. He still wanted me to help set up the agency. I would work directly for Tim Geithner, and he wouldn’t offer any guarantees about what my specific role would be or how long I’d be around to do it. And he gave no indication that he’d be willing to nominate me for permanent director in the future.

I said no.

We talked about the need for a strong agency and the inevitable opposition to it, and we talked about what the agency’s first initiatives might be. But we always circled back to the same question. Would he offer me a job that was all show, or would he give me a job that would allow me to really get something done?

The president was frustrated. I was hot. We pushed back and forth for an hour. Twice his assistant came out to remind him about his next meeting.

Finally he said: “You’re jamming me, Elizabeth.” He urged me not to overplay my hand.

Got it.

Our conversation was going nowhere—this just wasn’t going to work. Then he said: “Sometimes you have to trust the president. Let me work this out.” He pronounced each word separately: “Let—me—work—this—out.”

Leaning toward me across the little table, he promised that I would have all the tools I needed to get the job done and get this agency off the ground. He reminded me that he wanted the agency to be successful, that it was an important part of his legacy. Then he said, “Trust me.”

And there it was. He hadn’t said he would nominate me for the directorship, and he’d made no specific commitments about the responsibility I’d have.

But he was the man who had stood behind the agency throughout the Dodd–Frank negotiations when others wanted to kill it. He was the man who had signed the agency into law. He was the man who worried about what family might get cheated next.

I thought about what he said: all the tools I needed. That wasn’t very specific, but “all the tools” was in the right direction. Besides, with the Republicans and the big banks on the attack, the president was the best hope the American people had.

“All right,” I replied. “I’ll trust you on this.”





Put Your Seatbelt On

In the end, the president actually offered me two jobs. I was named special advisor to the secretary of the Treasury on the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau and assistant to the president. The title was a mouthful, but the “assistant to the president” designation was also held by some very senior people who sat nearest the Oval Office, and it was an important signal to the world that the president would back the new agency’s work.

I understood that this was only a temporary role, although I didn’t know when it would end—or how it would end. But right now, it didn’t matter. I would get to help launch the agency.