Starting the Campaign

Hello! As you may know, I wrote a book called “Hey Yang, Where’s My Thousand Bucks?” that comes out tomorrow. It’s a more personal and humorous account of my rise and fall and rise again to become Supreme Leader. To get you to want to buy the book, here’s an excerpt that recounts the launch of my successful presidential campaign.

The book is now available for pre-sale and I hope you consider buying a copy. Use code “UBIUBI” for 25% off. And I’ll be doing a book tour to New Jersey, Connecticut, DC, LA, SF, and Seattle so come on out and say hello!

Chapter 17 – The Wilderness

When I told friends I was running for President, the most common response was something like, “Of what, your Co-op Board?” People were not encouraging. Maybe they had talked to my Mom.

Perhaps I wasn’t as cool as I’d thought?

One friend said something I appreciated a great deal. “That seems crazy. But I said you were crazy before and you proved me wrong. So I said to myself after that, ‘Okay, whatever Andrew tells you he’s doing, just say yes.’ So this time, I’m in.”

I officially declared my presidential run in February 2018 with an article in the New York Times called, “His 2020 Campaign Message: The Robots are Coming.”

It did not take the world by storm.

I make the same mistake over and over again: I think the next thing is going to be like the last thing.

I thought running for President was going to be something like starting a wholesome entrepreneurship non-profit; you talk to people, make your case, present a vision, and get people on board.

But running for President was much more about me and who I was. I initially wanted to call the campaign “UBI2020,” for Universal Basic Income. But someone said, “That sounds like a urinary tract infection.” “Yang2020” was much better, though that required me to be the frontman and own it.

Try something for me: find a roommate or friend or your spouse, take them by the shoulders and say to them, “I’m running for President of the United States of America.”

It feels ridiculous, right? Like you immediately want to follow it up with, “I’m just kidding! This book asked me to say it to you, it’s not real!”

It felt that way for me too for quite a while. And the reactions didn’t help.

It took me about a year to be able to say it to a stranger with a straight face without any hint of irony or self-deprecation or doubt. For the most part it was incredibly awkward. I would go to my kids’ school events and avoid questions about what I did for a living because saying, “I’m a presidential candidate” made me seem like an absolute lunatic. Imagine some Dad at the potluck telling you that? Plus, if you do decide to tell them, it takes 15 minutes to explain, and at the end they never say, “Let me help! Where do I donate or volunteer?”

Instead, I’d get a confused, “Interesting . . . good luck with that.” Who wants to have that conversation over and over again?

Running for President without the virtues of fame, title, fortune, crowd support, social media following, etc. was a real education in humility. We had events where no one showed up. Who wants to hear from the random guy with delusions of grandeur?

Not many people it turns out.

So how did we get through those early days?

You take it day by day. But we had some things going for us. First, we had a fun, scrappy young team of true believers. Who would sign up for the Yang campaign as a wise career choice? Everyone on staff was driven by the truth of the message. Thanks to Zach in particular.

Second, we had a sense of humor about our situation. We didn’t take ourselves that seriously.

Third, we seized on anything positive and made a big deal out of it. Anytime someone donated to our campaign, even if it was $5, we would ring a bell in our little office. I would then email or call that person to thank them. For a long time, I was thanking friends of mine, who totally deserved it! But sometimes I’d be thanking a stranger, and they seemed surprised and thrilled to hear from me. Pretty soon the newcomers outnumbered the people I knew.

Zach told me to get good at social media, because it was free. I put energy into that. That would eventually help us grow.

We said yes to any interview or event, no matter how small or niche-y. Ask me anything chat on Reddit? Sure! Interview with a tech website? Definitely. And then we thanked them and amplified it even if they were slightly snarky in the coverage.

One question I would get a lot in those early interviews:

“Are you serious? Do you think you can win?”

It’s a bit of a trick question because if you say “Yes,” you’re crazy.

But if you say “No,” you’re a joke.

So you have to come up with a third answer, something like:

“This is a campaign of ideas.” or

“There are multiple versions of victory.”

If there were a few phrases I would use to sum up running for President in those early days, they were “camera angles,” “rental cars,’ and “rest stops.”

Let’s say we had a campaign event in South Carolina. 10 people showed up. If you pile those 10 people into the same picture plus yourself plus maybe a staffer or two, you could make it look like an okay event if . . . you get the right camera angle. With the wrong camera angle, it looks desolate and empty. So a lot of energy was spent arranging people and trying to get the right angle. A dud becomes a quality pic with the caption: “Talking to voters in Columbia, South Carolina – they’re excited about the campaign!”

I spent a ton of time in rental cars. In Iowa and New Hampshire, they are the only ways to get around. At one point, my cameraperson was doubling as my driver. It was late at night in Iowa heading to our hotel, and he almost hit a divider. He was not inspiring confidence, despite being stone cold sober. Trying not to be obnoxious, I asked offhandedly, “Hey, out of curiosity, have you ever been in any car accidents?”

“Yeah, 4, but none of them were my fault.”

I paused. “Great. Can you stop at this next gas station? I could use a bathroom break.” Then, after I came out, I said, “Hey, I feel like driving. Just to relax. Can I take it from here?” There was no way I was going to wake up in a ditch because my cameraperson couldn’t drive.

Because you’re crisscrossing these states so much, the rest stops become havens. A lot of the time, because of your schedule, you’re eating rest stop food as a meal, which isn’t great. I got super excited to head into a rest stop to pick up a meal of mixed nuts, sunflower seeds, a KIND bar and popcorn with some iced tea. My favorite rest stop chain name in Iowa was Kum N Go, which had its name changed in 2023. I wonder why? It pains me that I will never go into a Kum N Go again.

People ask me how I had the perseverance to run. Sometimes I ask entrepreneurs, “If you were to decide to start a business, how much time have you just signed up for?”

They think for a minute. Then they typically answer,

“Five years.”

“Eight years?”

“I don’t know. Because you can’t know.”

“That’s right! That means running for office is easier than starting a business.” I respond. By deciding to run for President, I knew I was signing up for 3 years of campaigning. More likely it was going to be 2-and-a-half years since I probably wouldn’t get past the primaries. “If I told you that you’d have to knock yourself out and do everything right for 2.5 years, could you do it?”

That made it seem more doable.

The moment I told my friends I was running and took a dollar from them, I signed up to do my utmost through the finish line. In the tough early days, I tried to make each day a little better than the one before. I believed in the case I was making because I knew it had the virtue of being true – AI was coming. I had to let people know. I was like Jon Snow except I knew who my parents were.

The book is now available for pre-sale; use code “UBIUBI” for 25% off. Book tour dates in New Jersey, Connecticut, DC, LA, SF, and Seattle can be found here. Go to noblemobile.com/yang for 3 months off your wireless bill, the best deal around. Offline is coming to Miami this week and then D.C. and SF. See you out there!