For those who’ve followed our journey with RPM Regions, you know that everything Phyllis and I do is rooted in purpose. We built this company not just as a business, but as a continuation of a life dedicated to service. What many don’t know is that until recently, I was still actively serving our country as a federal employee while growing RPM Regions from the ground up.
This past week, that chapter came to a close. And the emotions hit harder than I ever expected.
I didn’t expect today to hit me the way it did.
I told myself it would be just another day, sign out, shake a few hands, maybe take a last look around and go. But somewhere between turning in my badge and walking out the door, the weight of it all finally landed:
This was the last time I’d serve my country in this way.
For nearly 30 years, I’ve dedicated my life to service, first in uniform, then as a federal employee. That life was built around early mornings, clearances, urgency, accountability, and always being mission-ready. And today, for the first time in three decades, I left that world behind. No badge. No orders. No security clearance.
That’s not an easy thing to say.
I never served for titles, applause, or personal recognition. I’ve always believed that true leadership is rooted in humility and service to others. My goal was simple: make a difference in the lives of the people around me, especially the ones who often go unnoticed.
And apparently… I did.
Before I even clocked out for the last time, I had received over 230 messages—coworkers, former teammates, leaders, even folks I didn’t think remembered me. They reached out not to talk about accomplishments or awards, but to thank me for simple things: encouragement, laughter during stressful moments, being consistent, being kind.
One call in particular stopped me in my tracks—it was from someone who had once served on a White House protective detail. He reminded me of a moment years ago when tensions were high and I cracked a joke to ease the atmosphere. I didn’t think much of it then. But he told me that moment stuck with him—that something so small helped everyone breathe a little easier. I was nervous that day. Humor has always been my way of handling pressure. Turns out, that authenticity made a bigger impact than I realized.
But what truly humbled me—what brought the emotion full force—were the cards and small gifts from the building maintenance staff, the cleaning crew, the senior leader admins. These incredible folks are the unsung heroes—the heartbeat of every mission. They called me “one of the good ones.” Said I treated them like they mattered. Said I *saw* them.
That meant more than any award or evaluation ever could.
You come into government service thinking the impact is made in big meetings, strategy sessions, or on official letterhead. But what stays with you are the quiet moments—a handshake, a kind word in a hallway, remembering someone’s name, showing people they matter.
Today, I walked out of a federal building for the last time. I turned in my badge, but not my heart. That still belongs to the people I served.
Because service isn’t just a job. It’s who you become.
And now, as I turn the page on this chapter, I carry one truth with me:
When you lead with heart, treat everyone with dignity, and stay rooted in purpose, your impact will echo long after you’re gone.
“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
— Galatians 6:9
We are pledged to the letter and spirit of U.S. policy for the achievement of equal housing opportunity throughout the Nation. See Equal Housing Opportunity Statement for more information.
