It Worked For Me Read Free Page B

the Pentagon, continuing to serve as the senior military assistant to Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger.
    A year later, I was able to leave the Pentagon and take command of a corps in Germany, an even larger unit. I was elated, but after six months, I was called back to Washington to serve as Deputy National Security Advisor. Since it seemed that would end my military career, I resisted. If it was that important, I asked, shouldn’t the President call me? He did, and I left my corps. Eleven months later I became National Security Advisor for the remainder of President Reagan’s term.
    It’s hard to fault the choices the Army made for me. Most of them turned out to be superb. But I have had more freedom to follow my own instincts and choices since I left the Army.
    It’s easy to be flattered into a job. When I left the State Department, I was flattered by offers of top positions in major corporations, most of them in the financial world. The monetary rewards were stunning and the work not terribly demanding. I was told I didn’t need to know anything about banking, finance, or exotic financial instruments like hedge funds and derivatives. Experts would be present to help me. One investment bank pressed me hard, repeatedly upping the money and the title. The offers were definitely tempting.
    I understood the financial and social value of these positions. But my instincts said no. Did they want me for what I could do for them? Or did they want me for the celebrity I could bring them? My instincts said I would mostly be a door opener and a dinner host. And the truth was I didn’t have any relevant experience or background in the business, nor any desire to learn it. I couldn’t care less about finance. In the end, I preferred my flexibility and independence. They were trying hard to make a choice for me, but I held out for my own choice.
    One of my best friends helped me shape my instinct. Over lunch, he listened as I laid out all the offers. He replied simply, “Why would you want to wear someone else’s T-shirt? You are your own brand. Remain free and wear your own T-shirt.”
    As it turned out, my instinct turned out to be not only right about my immediate choice, but also prescient. Most of the promised monetary rewards I passed up turned out to be fairy tale money. Firms that offered me top jobs either failed or came close to failure in the 2008 crash and ensuing recession. I’m glad I dodged that bullet!
    These temptations pale in comparison with the choice I faced in 1995, two years after retiring from the Army. In those two years, I stayed out of the public eye, enjoyed private life, wrote my memoirs, and traveled the country speaking. But when my book was published and I went on a six-week book tour, I became more public than ever. The crowds were overwhelming. I had never imagined I’d get that kind of turnout. At every appearance the issue of running for political office arose. People were talking about me as a presidential candidate. It was incredibly flattering.
    Though I’ve never had political ambitions, all the attention forced me to consider running. I debated what to do. What was best for me, my family, the nation? I reached out to friends and experts, and listened carefully to new friends who pushed me to run. A strong instinct told me that I had an obligation, a duty, to run. I had ideas about where the country should go and about how to fix what I saw was broken. But I was divided. An equally strong instinct warned that running for president would be a terrible choice for me.
    The two months when I wrestled with that decision were perhaps the most difficult of my life. I was deeply conflicted, lost weight, had trouble sleeping. My family was split, which didn’t make my choice easier. My very closest friends argued against running but were willing to help if I decided to choose that course. They knew me as well as I knew myself and felt a presidential campaign was not right for me.
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