EXCERPT: 'The Trump Card'

Read an excerpt from Ivanka Trump's new book.

ByABC News via logo
September 28, 2009, 2:27 PM

Oct. 13, 2009— -- In "The Trump Card: Playing to Win in Work and Life," Ivanka Trump describes her childhood as the daughter of Donald and Ivana Trump, and her rise in the business world to become a vice president in the Trump Organization.

Trump tells young women how to thrive in uncertainty, focus at work and negotiate with gumption. She also shares advice from today's top female leaders: Arianna Huffington, Cathie Black and Tory Burch.

After reading the excerpt below, head to the "GMA" Library to find more good reads.

Six Recipes for Success

You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take.-- Michael Jordan

My experiences coming out of college and entering the workforce were not exactly typical, but they did provide some useful lessons. As a college senior, I remember feeling that I could do no wrong. I was on top of my schoolwork and I had a great setup in a choice apartment. I was finally old enough to go to the best bars in town—and to know the bouncers, thus ensuring entry! Like most of my classmates, I was anxious to get started on the next phase of my life and career, but at the same time I wasn't so sure I wanted this phase to end.

I was firmly committed to the idea of working in the family business, so there wasn't a whole lot for me to think about or worry about as graduation loomed—that is, until my professor sat me down for that all-important career strategy session. Up to that point, I'd just been counting the days until I could begin at the Trump organization. Yet even though I was wired to work and anxious to get started, I don't think I was entirely ready to give up on being a kid. It was an appealing pause point: my school work was essentially done, my next steps were unfolding in front of me, and I was content to soak it all in. For a lot of us, there's a weird stretch of time between college and career when our head is focused in one area and our feet are planted firmly in another, with our heart torn right down the middle. I wasn't alone in this, and I believe you'll find a similar tug-and-pull in place among today's graduating students. A lot of my Wharton pals had great jobs lined up, but quite a few of them didn't, so there was tension and resentment all around. By the spring of my senior year, I had my Forest City Ratner position all set, but I didn't have it in me to breathe any sighs of relief just yet. There were still all those doubts over whether I'd be up to the job.

Then, I got an unexpected phone call. It was early in the morning— about eight o'clock, which to a college student is just about the crack of dawn. I'd been up all night studying for my final final exam and had drifted off for an hour or two of much-needed sleep when the phone rang. My first thought was to just let it ring. I didn't feel like talking to anyone just then. I could hardly lift my head off the pillow— it was heavy with sleep and overstuffed with data and insights for my course in advanced real estate investments. But then I realized it might be important, because no one would call a student at eight o'clock in the morning unless it was important.

"Hello," I said, probably sounding groggy and out of it.

"Ivanka, is that you?" said the voice on the other end, a voice I vaguely recognized.

"It is," I said. "Who is this?"

"I'm sorry if I've woken you, Ivanka," the voice said. "It's Anna Wintour. Do you have a few minutes to chat?"

Anna Wintour. The editor of Vogue. An icon to millions of women—and quite a few men, too. Someone I'd known for years through my parents—and, later on, through my work as a model. I thought, why on earth is she calling?

"Of course," I said, trying to shake the tiredness from my voice. "How are you, Anna? It's so nice to hear from you."

Anna explained that she'd heard I was about to graduate but she wasn't calling to offer her congratulations. She was calling to offer me a job. Just like that. She didn't know my plans, but she knew all about my interest in modeling and fashion. "I could only offer you an entry-level position to start," she said, "but if you're serious about fashion it would be a great way to launch your career."

It was an amazing opportunity and an amazing call—a real pinch me! Sort of moment. Even then, I knew full well I would never have gotten such a fantastic offer if my last name hadn't been Trump, but that didn't make it any less thrilling. Anna Wintour had always been one of my heroes—an intelligent, dynamic, sophisticated woman, a true giant in both fashion and publishing. As an aspiring female entrepreneur, I couldn't imagine a better mentor than Anna. She could teach me a lot, no question. There was even a lesson in the fact that she was reaching out to me with the offer of a job. As an executive, I'd soon learn, you're constantly on the lookout for good young talent. you can't sit and wait for interested applicants to come to you looking for work; you have to go looking for them, and Anna must have seen some potential in me during our previous meetings—so it was flattering and illuminating, all at once.

But I'd already accepted the job at Forest City Ratner, and I wasn't about to give up on my lifelong passion of building a career in real estate. It was nice to be wanted, and I suppose there was a time in my life when it would have been a nice prospect to consider, but it wasn't for me.

"Anna," I said, "I'm so, so grateful for your call and for your generous offer, but I'm afraid I can't accept. I've already agreed to take a job with a real estate development company after I graduate. My plan is to work there for a year or so and then join my father. Real estate is my passion."

I'd bumped into a tough spot: how do you turn down a job without burning a bridge you might need at some later date? I was flattered that Anna Wintour had sought me out in this way, but I didn't want to insult her by rejecting her offer. Granted, it wasn't a job I was looking for and it wasn't a job I particularly wanted at that stage in my fledgling career. Moreover, I couldn't see myself ever being in a position where I'd want to switch careers from real estate to fashion. Still, Anna was a good person to have on my side, and I knew enough to treat her offer with respect. So I answered her the only way I could—with complete honesty.

Anna was understanding and graciously wished me luck. She said she'd heard I was leaning toward real estate but thought I might want to give the fashion industry another look. I thanked her again for the call and the thought, we exchanged another few pleasantries, and that was that.

After I hung up, I thought, I didn't see that one coming. Not by a long shot. It was exciting to have someone like Anna Wintour reach out to me about a job. It went straight to my sleepy little head, and I was bursting to tell someone about it. All my friends were asleep, so I called my dad. It was early for me, but it wasn't early for him. He dropped whatever he was doing to take my call.

"You'll never guess who I just got off the phone with," I said, but then I told him before he had a chance to even guess.

When I was finished with my story, he said, "I think you should consider it, Ivanka. Working at Vogue sounds very exciting. Anna's the best in the business. You could learn a lot from her."

For a beat or two, I thought maybe I'd dialed the wrong number. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but I certainly wasn't expecting that. Frankly, I was shocked that my father would encourage me to pursue a career other than real estate. For years, it was all we'd talked about. For years, I'd done everything I could to make sure I was ready to make a real contribution to the family business when I finally graduated and got the opportunity. For years, it had been a kind of given. His take on this out-of-nowhere, entry-level Vogue position took me thoroughly by surprise, and it certainly wasn't a surprise of the good or happy variety. I'd just spent the last two years at Wharton studying finance and real estate. What did my father think I'd been doing all that time? Wasn't he excited at the prospect of me joining his company, even if that prospect was still a few years away? Didn't he think I had what it took to make it as a developer?

I couldn't think how to respond, so I raced off the phone. I still had that final final exam coming up later that morning, and I didn't want to get too distracted by all these unanswered questions. There was enough going on in my head already, and I was determined to end my academic career on a strong note. I tried to go back to sleep, but of course I couldn't. I was too shaken by those two phone calls. Too emotional. Too confused. Too everything.

Over the next few weeks, as graduation loomed, my thoughts kept returning to my father's comment. Actually, they went all the way back to when I was at boarding school, making the argument for pursuing a modeling career. It was a way to make my mark outside my father's considerable sphere of influence, in an industry where his name wouldn't open any doors or lead directly to any opportunities. (In the ultimate irony, he ended up buying a modeling agency . . . but that prospect wasn't on the radar back then.) Any successes I managed to find would be totally on me. If I failed, it would be on me, too. That was appealing to me as a kid—and I realized it was still appealing to me as a young adult. Whatever I did next, after school, I wanted to own it. To earn it. I didn't want anything to be handed to me, and it took hearing what sounded like doubt from my father to get me to question my decision to follow in his footsteps.

At the time, I didn't particularly love the idea of working in fashion, but I was determined to make my way on my own terms, on my own strengths. I went from being completely confident and pumped about my upcoming job to being completely unsure of myself—all on the back of this otherwise positive, affirming phone call from Anna Wintour. To be sure, it wasn't the call itself that left me reeling, it was my father's reaction to it. It was the thought that my ultimate mentor might be trying (not all that subtly!) to tell me to do something else for a living.