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A friend from London phoned me on Monday for a catch-up. He’s a typical Londoner and likes to talk, which is my polite way of saying the conversation was rather one-sided. He’s been a self-employed IT consultant for the last few years and was buzzing about his imminent move back into paid employment.
He spent our chat describing his plans for the role, his impressions of the business and its key staff, and how he intends to use the regular paycheck as a springboard into retirement in five years. After we hung up, I got on with my day.
He phoned again the next afternoon. “Time to finish our chat,” he began. “I talked about myself yesterday… tell me what you’ve been doing the last couple of months.”
For a few seconds, I was stumped. His side of the conversation had sounded so exciting. What had I done? Not much, if I’m truthful.
Being retired, I’ve settled into a new, slower routine. I play racket sports for a few hours, three times a week, fit in a game of golf when I can, and go hiking and biking when the notion takes me. The home gym I recently installed takes up a good chunk of my time, and between exploring new areas with my wife, finding places for lunch and walks, and helping out with the grandkids, my weeks are full. Yet, for some reason, I was initially a little embarrassed to describe my last few months to my busy London friend.
But when I thought about it, I realised I’d spent over thirty years trading in the same currency as my friend. In the working world, being busy is a status symbol, and when someone asks what you’ve been up to, the expected answer is deadlines, projects and targets. Retirement somewhat strips those measures away and leaves you with a calendar of your own design. Learning to judge a good day by satisfaction rather than noise takes a bit of unlearning.
What struck me was the irony. He was throwing himself back into the corporate fray, with new commutes, performance metrics and office politics, all to build a five-year springboard into retirement. If he succeeds, his reward will be the calendar I enjoyed this morning: unhurried hours, physical activity, time with family and no alarm clock. I was already standing where he was heading, my flash of embarrassment seemed almost absurd.
So I took a breath and told him about my week: six hours of racket sports, a morning in the home gym, a coastal walk, and lunch with my wife. There wasn’t a spreadsheet or board meeting in sight. He paused, let out a long sigh and said, “God, that sounds amazing.”
It turned out my “not much” was his ultimate goal, and I had nothing to be embarrassed about.
Of course your punchline was the punchline. The problem is from the working side we don’t always see it- we don’t plan for the simple, everyday, cheap pleasures; we imagine we need to save for the grand cruises, the ballooning over the Serengeti, Disneyworld every other week with grandkids or ruinous care.
And we fear market downturns or that our “enough” will run out. Maybe everyone needs to value a stroll outside in temperate weather listening to birdsong or a meal we have cooked from simple ingredients a little more.
Mark, I’ve been thinking about this, too—how much of my identity as a working person was always being busy and productive. I don’t really miss being a professor, and I kind of relish meeting someone new and saying, “Oh, I’m retired.” But I relate to the sheepish feeling that I’m not really doing much these days. Like you, I get over it quickly, though!
Mark, your story hits on at least three things relevant to my own existence.
Friends that talk; what a polite way to describe boorish behaviour. I have four of those that immediately come to mind. I love them all and don’t want them not to be in my life, but I do limit my time with them. When they interrupt me in mid-thought, I patiently wait until they finish injecting their wisdom, before continuing my sentence from exactly where I was cut off, oftentimes five or more minutes later.
Explaining what the heck I do all day. I need to develop a stock story that makes explaining my doing exactly what I want to do all day, every day, sound not dull.
This piece also reminds me of the story about a poor but content fisherman who was schooled by an American businessman about how to become successful and rich so that he can eventually retire, into the same exact life that he was already living.
Now, what were you saying?
When I was reading your post, Mark, I was reading from the point of view of your friend. Spouse and I had to play catch up with our retirement the last 10 years of work. We were able to do this as I got more educated. Jonathon and the HD writers were part of my education. I am pulling for your friend that he is able to catch up and have a dignified retirement.