A Fighting Chance

After we reached a deal, I resigned from my position on the COP. I also requested a leave of absence from Harvard. Since I wanted to be at the new agency 24/7, Bruce said he would (once again) be a commuter. (Thank you, sweetie.) Washington would now be home base for Otis and me, while Bruce would fly back and forth each week.

We needed a place to live in Washington, immediately. There was no time for house hunting—heck, things were moving so fast that I felt like there was no time to brush my teeth. Someone told us about a vacant apartment that was within walking distance of the Treasury Building, and the landlord would allow us to bring Otis. Thankfully, my old friend from the bankruptcy wars, Brady Williamson, happened to be in Washington that week, so he took a look and called with a report. “Um, the living room is nice, but the stove looks weird.…”

Weird stove and all, we rented the apartment sight unseen.

I flew to Washington, and on Thursday, September 16, 2010, Bruce loaded up the car with our things, and he and Otis made the eight-hour drive down to D.C. (I suspect they made it in seven hours. I’m pretty sure Bruce drives a lot faster when I’m not in the car, but that’s one of those “don’t ask, don’t tell” things in our marriage.)

On Friday, Bruce and I went to the White House for the public announcement of my new role. Amelia was still confined to bed, and Sushil couldn’t leave her. Alex was in the middle of a work crisis, and he wanted to stay in Los Angeles in case Amelia needed extra help, so there were no children or grandchildren to turn it into an occasion.

Right after lunchtime, there we were in the Oval Office, just the president, Tim Geithner, and me. The president said he was sure we’d all get along fine. Secretary Geithner and I both smiled uncertainly. Gesturing to the door that opened onto the Rose Garden, where a medium-size throng of reporters and photographers waited, the president explained that the three of us would step outside together. Then he paused and said, “Well, not all at once. This isn’t a Three Stooges routine.” We laughed and then started into a round of Three Stooges gags. By any objective measure, I’m sure we were all pretty lame, but I was impressed. The president and the secretary knew a lot of Moe, Larry, and Curly routines. Surely the country was in good hands.

The announcement went smoothly, followed by a quick swearing in.

Saturday was another whirlwind day. No more policy discussions and welcome meetings; it was time to go shopping. Off to Target, Staples, and a couple of furniture stores for bar stools, a reading lamp, dishes—I can’t remember everything we bought, but I think Bruce and I clocked fourteen straight hours of shopping. At ten that night, just after snagging a desk and chair, we celebrated over pancakes at an IHOP somewhere in Maryland.

I spent a lot of time on administrative duties during my first days on the job. I got fingerprinted—electronically and in ink, twice each way on each finger of both hands. I was also photographed, briefed on security, lectured about dozens of forms I needed to fill out, issued a badge, and given a flu shot.

During my days at COP, I’d attended a couple of meetings in the Treasury Building, but now I had my own office, and I had a chance to wander around a bit. My office was beautiful, unlike anything I’d ever worked in before. Like the other Treasury officials, I had an office with a high ceiling, a fireplace, antique furniture, and giant windows that faced a statue of Alexander Hamilton. It felt a little like a movie set. If there hadn’t been so much work to do, it would have been a great place for a tea party with my granddaughters.

Like the offices in many other monumental old buildings, these offices weren’t built for the modern era. My assistant, Alyssa Martin, sat in a tiny carved-out space at the front of my office. Alyssa was just twenty-two, and though she had been slated to start her first year at Harvard Law School that fall, she postponed school for a year when I asked her to come with me to Washington.

The skeletal staff that Treasury had already begun assembling for the agency was scattered in offices that had been chopped out of other spaces. Many of these people would go back to their regular Treasury jobs in the coming weeks, but not all. As we got under way, Eric Stein, who had poured zillions of hours into negotiating the line-by-line drafting of the statute creating the consumer agency, made the shift from Treasury to help launch the new agency. Wally Adeyemo, who had an amazing talent for getting things done at Treasury, now took on the role of chief of staff for the baby agency. I quickly figured out that he was indispensable.

On my first day on the job, Secretary Geithner asked me out to lunch. When I showed up in his office, he said, “I have a present for you.” He held out a cop’s hat. Perfect!