At
my age (“three score minus two,” as Abe Lincoln might say), I’ve noticed that a
lot of the guys I went to school with are starting to retire. I don’t mean “retire”
in the sense that they got laid off when the big corporations they worked for
downsized them out the door (or as Abe Lincoln might say, “Dumped the chumps
approaching the age of three-score”). Nowadays, these fellas spend their
weekdays going to job interviews, where they beg young smart-alecks to hire
them, and then they spend their weekends at Home Depot earning a part-time
paycheck, where they beg other young smart-alecks to explain the stupid
computer system one more time. No, I’m not talking about these guys when I say
“retire.”
The
folks my age to whom I refer are the ones who actually retire on purpose. These
are the select few who were smart enough 30 years ago to get a job with an
organization that offers a “magic pension,” something the vast majority of us
can only dream about. A “magic pension,” by the way, is one that pays a set amount
each month (plus annual cost of living increases) for the rest of the
pensioner’s life — even if he lives to be 120 years old. It’s called “magic”
because the funds flow from a fiscal fountain that never runs dry. So when I
say these folks were smart enough to get a job with a particular organization,
the organization, of course, is the government. These guys are civil servants.
Now,
you may get the impression from what I’ve written so far that I am jealous of
state employees who are still in their 50’s and who can retire with full
pensions for life, while private sector dummies like me have to work until age
80 in order to have enough money for retirement. (And we have to make sure we die
at 83 or else the money runs out.)
I’m
not jealous of these guys. In fact, I feel sorry for them. Think about it: here
they are, in the prime of middle-age, with lots of experience, lots of
knowledge, and enough energy to work the standard 50-hour week. (Oops, I forgot,
they’re staties. I mean 35-hour week.) And what do they do instead? They sleep
late. They play golf. They nap. They go out to dinner each night. They watch TV
whenever they want. And sometimes they go on vacation — but how can you even
tell? What a sad existence. And they’re stuck in this same boring routine for
the next 25 years or more.
These
poor schmoes are missing out on the really challenging and fulfilling aspects
of life, for example: the thrill of juggling six phone calls at the same time from
irate customers, who are preventing you from making six outgoing phone calls to
other customers who haven’t paid an invoice since February, in the hope that
you might collect enough money in the next 24 hours to meet payroll this week.
Now, that’s entertainment! That is nothing like the boring retirement life of golf,
Judge Judy, watering the petunias, and ordering the early bird special.
The
non-retired life, my life, is a life filled with purpose. It’s a life where you
are needed. It’s a life where other people really depend on you — to the point
where they won’t hesitate to give you a mouthful of bloody Chiclets and slash
your tires if their paychecks bounce.
So,
being only “three score minus two,” I’ve got at least “one score and two” years
to go before I can retire. And I wouldn’t have it any other way (mostly because
I can’t).
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