This blog will make witness of my journey to that curious place called retirement. Nearly all my retired women friends have grandchildren, which they tell me, fill their days with bliss. I have my doubts, but these gals are not backing down. A retirement without grandchildren would be unthinkable.
As a “grandchild less” lady, I have taken heart. Clearly I will need some ingenuity, originality and inspiration to take on these golden years. After all, without those prodigies what is a woman suppose to do?
This story begins with my official retirement date of January 1, 2017. My last day in the office being Dec 30th, a Friday. I had a good job, not a big job ( big jobs pay big) my job paid good. Good is slightly better than average.
Although I had previous employers, for the past 27 years I worked for a massive corporation that valued MBA’s CPA’s, JD’s, and KTP’s ( that’s key talent potential) Since I did not fit into any of that alphabet soup, I mostly felt invisible. Don’t get me wrong, like I said, I had a good job. It was in sales and marketing which means listening to customers on what they want, and them selling them what we have. For some reason, that oddly worked.
I was offered what is called a voluntary rif ( RIF means reduce in force). I stress it was voluntary. The company needed to lighten the payroll and looked to the seasoned oldies as a quick solution. Age 60+ was the target. Of course they could not legally say age was a factor, so we needed to sign lots of legal documents that we were not victims of ageism, although we were.
With little thought, I took it, mostly because my invisible status was becoming demanding. I was not replaced, but instead doled out my work to nine others. My manager told me of my retirement opportunity in October, and I never heard from him again. No final day good luck call. I had a history of his silence so it did not overly concern me. I made it my general rule to never call him so it seems we lived in a kind of quiet harmony. On the last day I received one of those emails that says do not respond to this email. Its content was short and clear. You are retired.
Some personal information. I never married, had children and obviously do not have grandchildren. I have lived alone for the majority of my adult life ( Two men moved in and eventually out) Based on those facts, my retirement may be doomed. Working must have been my life. I have a girl friend who divorced her husband after 22 years of marriage. When I asked her why, she responded “he was just a bad habit.” So was my work a bad habit, or worse an addiction? Is there a Betty Ford for single women retiree’s? .
So far retirement has been a collection of naps, but it has only been four days. I decided to host a New Year’s eve dinner for some retired work friends. They came with alcohol ( I rarely drink but have no objections to others indulging) balloons and spinach balls. All of my guests were male coworkers with lovely spouses, happy marriages and offspring of considerable substance. The wives do not consider me as a threat, which I find personally deflating but accept the reality that I am the girl men see as a pal. With the men, all our shared memories are tied to work. One of them loves to tell all my poor judgement moments. He finds them dramatic, fascinating conversation. I do have some stories of my own, but I am a lady.
As coworkers I think they like me well enough, you know, Christmas card friends, not that anyone sends them anymore. Maybe one of them would bail me out of a local jail. The friendship ends there. I doubt they would offer me a kidney if I needed one, which I don’t.. but just saying.
Since it was the beginning of a new year and new life, I decided to have a glass of wine, which lead to eight. I once was a woman who could not say no to a martini so I easily recognized my January 1 hangover. I spent my first official retirement day sleeping off the aftermath of the 31st. January 2 , 3 and 4 have found me shopping and cleaning up the kitchen from the new years eve hoopla. I could take my time since I have it in spades. I did one refrigerator shelf a day. What a feeling!
Time to Retire 