Denial is not an option

As expected, all things Trump put me in a foul mood. It would be easy to stick my head in the sand and go about my happy life. That’s what one of my golf buddies said – this stuff largely didn’t affect him, so he was tuning out.

I said, yeah, I get that, but I keep thinking about the poem by Pastor Martin Niemöller.

First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me

Citizen Donna came to the rescue and helped me realize denial is not an option. I know it’s different for everyone, but I’ll share my thoughts in case there’s a nugget or two.

For starters, I’m not much of an activist and don’t want to be. But reading the news and getting jolted every day with the lunacy of it all was making me feel angry and powerless. What to do?

It might sound counterintuitive, but I started actually paying more attention to the news – not just titillating headlines, but in-depth information on equal rights, fair taxation, immigration, abortion medication, Supreme Court ethics … and the beat goes on.

I quickly realized there’s a lot I don’t know about pretty much everything. I saw birthright citizenship was buzzing around in the headlines, but I didn’t realize the potential impact of Trump’s executive action until I read up on the 14th Amendment. I thought I was all cool with transgender issues until I went to a resource for transgender allies and learned I’m actually quite clueless.

Switching from the victim mode to the learning mode has made a huge difference in my mental state. It’s not just read it and weep anymore. As I become more educated on these issues, I’ll be better prepared to discuss them, and that already makes me a better citizen than I was before I came out of my funk. Is that an approach that will work for you as well?

The next step is harder, and that’s action. I’m not likely to go door-to-door or join a march, but I have skills that can help other people make sense of it all. For some clarity, I started working on a master document that succinctly describes the top issues, nonprofit organizations focused on those issues and independent media sources that provide facts and perspective. For the nonprofits, I will also include a rating from one of the charity watchdog organizations.

I’m hoping this whole exercise will help us see which issues trigger a reaction so we can decide where to focus our time and energy. I’ll be sure to post it when I’m finished. You know, I never did find a volunteer opportunity that suited me, but maybe the best way for me to give back is to share my pro-Democracy content and donate money to causes I care about.

That doesn’t mean all my other stuff is going away. I’ll still write about books, movies, food and all the other simple pleasures that add up to a great retirement.

The opposite of bored

You know the age old question for retirees. What do you do all day? If you find the idea of being bored in retirement preposterous, this post might be for you.

My thinking on this subject has morphed since I started watching Astrid on PBS Masterpiece. The show features a brilliant autistic woman named Astrid who works in criminal records and is recruited by a detective to help solve crimes. It’s French with subtitles, which I hardly notice.

Her autism bugged me at first, but I grew more comfortable with it as the series and the characters evolved. Wouldn’t it be great if it worked that way in real life? You spend some time with a person, get to know them and maybe they don’t seem so damn odd after all. One can hope.

A common characteristic of people with autism is the special interest, which is an intense hyper-focus area that brings joy and helps them stay centered. To some, a special interest may come across as obsessive, but a few of us out here might be envious.

I’m talking about we, the people, who have too many interests and sometimes have difficulty focusing. As for me, I’ve spent a lot of time and dropped a fair chunk of change on things that interested me … for a while.

Retirement changes the game. The good news is we have time and hopefully enough money to dabble, and sometimes we’re like kids in a candy store. It’s exciting to think, what do I want to try next? But then you realize time doesn’t last forever, and it’s a fixed income, anyway, so you can’t get stupid with it.

I already have plenty of interests, but every now and then I’m tempted by some new shiny object. Sewing is one. I used to jump for it, but now that I’m older and wiser, I start thinking about the start-up costs, learning curve, space requirements, time commitment – and I get stuck.

Like Astrid, do I need something to stay centered? She inspired me to think about my current hobbies as special interests. Plural. These are the activities that have stood the test of time. Instead of spreading myself too thin, I want to make the most of what I know is sustainable.

My approach to these interests is haphazard at best. I grow cannabis, for example, but sometimes my yields are unsatisfactory, and I’ve done nothing to dig deeper and find out why. Cooking is a big one, but there’s no organization or the slightest bit of discipline to my approach. The house looks like a recipe bomb exploded, and no one came to clean up the debris.

One of the joys of retirement is that you can throw rigid schedules out the window, and I relish my laid back lifestyle. That said, it’s time to focus on my special interests in a more mindful way. Pay more attention to the details.

For starters, I bought a book about growing cannabis, and it has given me good ideas for how to improve my yield. I spend an inordinate amount of time on puzzles, so I might cap that at an hour a day. Swimming is 30 minutes of freestyle, but I could easily introduce some variations to my workout.

While I suppose there’s a certain charm to being the eccentric Bohemian who dabbles in what amuses her, retirement by shiny object can be stressful. I waste a lot of time doing not much of anything because I’m overwhelmed by choices. On the other hand, I don’t want a hardcore regimen about what I do when.

If this dilemma sounds familiar, I can offer a few suggestions that will perhaps help us maximize the pleasures and outcomes of things we already do.

Does this interest make you happy? How much time are you committing? Think weekly not daily – overall, is there balance? Do you feel calm? Would you enjoy improving your skill level or technique? Can you throw some money at it? Will a schedule or some sort of organizational structure bring clarity, improve your performance or just create unwanted stress?

There will come a day when I ignore all reason and go for it, but right now I’m saying no to sewing and other shiny objects so I can properly tend to my current garden of interests.

No big thoughts here

I scheduled my colonoscopy for Jan. 20, which is inauguration day. Sure, I could have watched Donald Trump take the oath of office, but I went with a good old-fashioned colon blow … the extended edition that includes a partially sedated anal probe.

No regrets.

I’m continuing to focus less on what’s actually happening in the world and more on what’s happening in our kitchen. Since I retired, I’ve learned that I’m a happier and calmer person when I quit trying to think the big thoughts and direct my energy into simple things that make life pleasurable. Food is always at the top of the list.

I made some excellent bread in 2024, especially sourdough, but this year I’d like to push a little harder and try some different recipes. Bagels, brioche, you name it. I also want to try making croissants. Not for the feint of heart, as I understand it.

We ate our share of sweets over the holidays, so I’m trying to cut back on sugar. No plans to give it up – I just want to be more mindful. Save it for when it counts! I’ve been eating a lot of oatmeal, which is good. But I’ve been hammering it with brown sugar, which is, shall we say, not my best choice. Does oatmeal even need to be sweet?

I Googled savory oatmeal, and there’s a lot out there with stuff I really don’t want to eat in the morning. I kept it simple and made a batch with just chopped walnuts and a little salt. Very good. Then I tried it with chopped walnuts, currants, olive oil and a dash of sea salt. Yum!

While I might still do the sweeter variety of oatmeal from time to time, I’m enjoying these other options. What about something with sesame oil ? Some toasted seeds?

One of my other breakfast treats is an egg cooked in olive oil. I heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil into a small nonstick pan and then add an egg as though I’m frying it. But it almost poaches in the pool of oil. When the egg is done, I pour the whole thing – oil and egg – on sourdough toast. It’s so delicious. I’m wondering if it might be good on oatmeal, too.

I’m starting my sourdough tonight, and we’re having that tomorrow with balsamic glazed chicken thighs with burst tomatoes and green beans. I put a bottle of Gewürztraminer in the fridge. People think Gewürz is a sweet wine, but we buy a dry variety from Navarro Vineyards. We love it..

Pizza tonight. A replay of a pizza Dale made for the first time a few weeks ago. He said he was experimenting with new toppings, and it was going to sound weird. Hot Italian sausage, anchovies and red onion. I said, what’s weird about that? It sounds wonderful.

And it was seriously one of the best pizzas he has ever made. The anchovies sort of melt into the sausage, and it’s an umami flavor bomb. A little crunch of the red onion, and a sprinkling of parmesan, and you wonder where this has been all your life.

No big thoughts here, but a toast perhaps?

To you, may your pleasures be simple and your food simply delicious.

Reading as entertainment

Although I do enjoy a good list, I try not to keep track of my daily habits. Seriously, it’s better if you don’t look.

However, I made an exception this past year for books, mostly because I read a lot of series, and I like to go in order. The whole thing is easier when you keep track. Especially as you get older …

My spreadsheet shows I read 44 books in 2024. Not a world record but not too shabby, considering the average American reads 12 books a year. At least according to the Pew Research Center.

Most of my reading was crime fiction. I went back over the list to see what stood out, and I am surprised to say not much. A lot of what I read is entertaining but not particularly memorable. And I’m OK with that. I’m just here for the party and am not out to score literary credits.

Reading can be educational and challenging and cerebral, but I’m all about simple pleasures and most of the time I read books to escape or be entertained. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

All that said, the biggest surprise for me was discovering Tana French, who has been writing for quite awhile without my knowledge! I’ve read three of her books now, and I will go out on a limb and suggest this is crime fiction at its finest. I particularly enjoyed In the Woods, the first in her Dublin Murder Squad series. Faithful Place was another great one, although the story definitely takes family dysfunction to a new level. I’m still thinking about that one.

Just to prove I do mix it up from time to time, a few others at the top of my 2024 list include genres other than crime fiction:

  • Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See
  • A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
  • Farewell, Amethystine by Walter Mosley
  • Clete by James Lee Burke
  • The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon
  • Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros

As for 2025, I don’t suppose I’ll change much. I’m next up at the library for The Waiting by Michael Connelly. Locked In, the finale to the Department Q series by Jussi Adler-Olsen, just came out. The library doesn’t have it yet, but it should come in soon, and I’ll get in the queue for that.

Another one I’ll be on the lookout for is Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros. I believe it comes out later this month. This is book three of three in The Empyrean series, science fiction/fantasy novels about young dragon riders trying to save the world.

I’ve started to make a list of science fiction detective novels. That just sounds like fun reading to me. And I will need some fun (and maybe brown liquor) to get me through the Trump years.

Oh, you probably know the flags will be flying at half-staff for 30 days to honor former President Jimmy Carter. But did you realize that means the flags will be flying at half-staff during Trump’s inauguration?

Just a little something to perk you up. Happy New Year.

Time calibration

I never thought I’d say this about retirement, but in some ways, time is harder to manage than money.

In the cosmic sense, you think, how much time do I have left on the planet? Another 20 years? Is this how I want to spend it? For the most part, I’d say yes, but then I wonder what I might be missing.

Mostly I avoid thinking about the cosmos as it applies to me. I have a good life and try to enjoy the time that has been given. Still, I’m wondering if I need a time calibration on the simple pleasures of day-to-day life.

I mean, I’ll get up early for golf if I have to, but that’s about it. I’m a fan of the slow start, which means a leisurely breakfast and a slew of puzzles from the New York Times. By the way, I’m loving the new game, Strands.

Then there are chores, exercise, reading, writing, streaming shows, travel, art and the art of food – browsing recipes, shopping for ingredients, preparing meals and enjoying the results! I’m sure the young and busy with their families and jobs and all that are thinking, oh, wah, how hard can it be?

Well, true, it’s not that it’s hard. It’s just that we older folks know the clock is ticking, and it goes back to that cosmic thing. Could I be doing this differently? The big thing for me is setting aside more time to write. Not only for blog posts but also because writers write. It helps me think.

I’ve been reading a lot, but I’d like to try more challenging material. I saw a paperback of All Quiet on the Western Front in our stash, and I barely remember it from high school. And other than one class in college, I’ve never taken to Shakespeare, although it might be time. I’ll need to be upright for that.

Snuggly reading under the covers is better suited for a good who-done-it.

Now that I think about it, I’m doing OK, but maybe a little less golf and a little more in the way of intellectual pursuits. Not that golf doesn’t fry your brain – just in a different way. Anyway, as I was thinking about how I live and spend my time as I age, I started a random list of questions I should probably work through. See what you think.

  • How much sleep is too much sleep? Do you have to stop at 10?
  • Why is everything better with butter?
  • Amazon or Spotify? Do I care what Neil Young thinks?
  • What counts as one glass of wine?
  • Acorn or BritBox?
  • Is it Friday or was that yesterday?
  • If you get up to pee three times in a night, does an angel get its wings?
  • What’s so bad about a gluten-rich diet?
  • Why is it always about the knees?
  • If I can gain five pounds in a week, why can’t I lose five pounds in a week?
  • How many Law & Order reruns can I watch? Am I wrong to love Lenny?
  • Kale. OK, but why?
  • Peeps. Crap candy or nature’s miracle?

There are more, but we’ll stop here so you can get back to the important things you were doing with your time.

That’s good, that’s bad

It has been an annoying few weeks, and I’ve put writing on the bottom of the list. Today, I thought, if you want life to go back to normal, then why not do the normal stuff you do … such as write? I’m telling you, friends, the brain is a dangerous thing.

Speaking of dangerous things, I’m told by my sister, who is not a doctor but plays one on the Internet, that Advil isn’t good for us older adults. We do use with caution, but still, Dale calls them blue buddies. I mentioned this to one of my golf partners, and she said, “Advil is my favorite drug, and I’ve tried most of them.”

So, it has been a mix of Tylenol and Advil, but even then, sparingly. Ice. I won’t go into all the gory details, but I messed up my knees trying to be the athlete I was in my 30s. I’m in less pain than I was even a week ago, so that’s good.

The same golf friend, who was a teacher, often quotes a children’s book called, That’s Good, That’s Bad. It comes up a lot in golf. Let’s see how it works here.

I messed up my thumb pushing my golf cart up a hill. I was distracted for a moment, and the cart rolled back toward me, sort of squishing my thumb. The result was an ugly cyst-like thing. That’s bad.

The cyst hurts occasionally but not all that much. That’s good.

I finally got an appointment with a hand specialist, and he said it’s an arthritic cyst that can pop up at any time for no good reason. Or it can be the result of an accident such as mine. He said it could go away on its own. That’s good.

But it might not. He could surgically remove it, but there’s a good chance it will come back since the underlying cause – our friend arthritis – hasn’t gone away. He recommended I do nothing, but if and when I get tired of looking at it, to go for the surgery. That’s bad.

I’ve been using cannabis cream on the cyst, and it looks smaller to me. Virtually no pain. That’s good.

I was diagnosed with osteoporosis two years ago but didn’t go back for another bone scan until this month. I wasn’t going to go at all, because after a lot of reading, I’m deeply suspicious the whole thing is a racket dreamed up by the people who make the scanning machines and the drug companies. That’s bad.

But I’ve been taking vitamins A and K for two years, and I wanted to see if it made a difference. That’s good.

My numbers were overall quite stable. That’s good.

However, my primary care physician said I might want to consider medication. That’s bad.

There’s a lot of nasty stuff associated with bone density drugs, so my hope is to avoid them. But then I thought, maybe it’s time to hear what experts have to say about the latest and greatest in bone density treatment. My doctor referred me to an endocrinologist, and I made an appointment for January 18. That’s good.

Except when I arrived, they said my appointment was for July 18. That’s bad.

The receptionist was quite sympathetic, and I said don’t worry about it, I wasn’t all that excited to be here anyway. She laughed. That’s good.

Then there’s the curious case of Donna’s favorite sock. I recently purchased three pairs of wool socks that are really great for keeping my feet warm during cold-weather walks and long rounds of golf. That’s good.

Late one afternoon, I was getting ready to take a shower and took off my workout clothes, draping them over the hamper. They were still reasonably clean – passing the sniff test with flying colors – and I figured I could wear them again the next day. I left the socks on the floor by the hamper. In the morning, one of my socks was gone. That’s bad.

At first, I sort of blew it off. Like, oh, I must have misplaced that sock. But then I started a legitimate search and rescue. I went through every item I have worn in that past month to see if it got stuck in a sleeve or leg. I checked the washing machine and the dryer. I checked Dale’s stuff. I’ve gone through all my drawers, to no avail. That’s bad.

I thought, well, it would be atypical, but maybe our cat Riley had a sudden hankering for a tasty sock. I checked under all the beds, his treehouse, anywhere he might have stashed it. I warned Riley he was in big kitty trouble if he messed with my sock. But it appears he’s innocent. That’s good.

Dale suggested poltergeists are responsible. This would be the first sign of them, and I’ve actually Googled this, but it’s not looking like poltergeists steal socks. That’s good.

That’s the end of my little rant. My knees are on the mend. My thumb is fine. My bones are hanging tough and on hold until July. I’ll live to write another day. That’s good.

But my sock is gone. That’s bad.

Retirement math

Last year was my fifth year of retirement, and I’m pleased to report I’m getting better at accomplishing very little. In 2023, I read a lot of crime fiction, wrote a bunch of blog posts, took a few road trips, watched a couple dozen shows on TV, walked, stretched, swam, cooked and ate delicious food. Dabbled at art.

I’d say it was a fine year. As a recovering over-achiever, it feels good to enjoy simple pleasures and chill. I don’t really like to keep count, as my last job was all about metrics gone wild. That said, you may be interested to learn I also enjoyed 21 blissful hours of full-body massage and about 100 rounds of golf.

Now for a “deep dive” into retirement math.

At an average of 4.5 hours per round, that’s 450 hours of golf. If one assumes a 40-hour work week, 450 hours converts to 11.25 weeks of golf, and that is the equivalent of playing golf for more than two months of the year!

My massages added up to $1,960. However, I don’t dye my hair, so let’s deduct $125 per month from massage expenditures. That leaves us at $460, which a working person such as myself might have spent on makeup, shoes, dry cleaning or even Botox. So, let’s just wipe the slate clean and accept that in retirement math, my massages are free.

There might be something to metrics after all. Seriously, I don’t think I’m playing enough golf.

A bridge lesson

I was invited by one of the women in my golf group to participate in a series of beginner bridge lessons in her home, and I thought why not? They say this complex card game is especially good for the aging brain. It seems to me anything that might help us dodge dementia is a good thing. I’m retired. I’ve got the time.

Today was my first lesson, and that’s an hour and a half I’ll never get back.

Perhaps I should have known. When I told Dale, he reminded me math was involved. While it’s true I picked journalism as a major because it was about the only degree that didn’t require even the most rudimentary of math skills, I thought, well, it’s a card game. How hard can it be?

Many of you probably know this already, but it’s damned hard. I won’t even go into the complexities I tried to absorb during this first lesson, but it reminded me of high school geometry, when the teacher spent an entire semester saying, “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

Because that’s what it sounded like to me.

The bridge instructor scheduled an indefinite number of lessons every Thursday at 9:30 a.m. Not bad, but not good for the retirement practice I subscribe to called, “The Slow Start.” But you know, staving off dementia, I guess I could move out faster for a good cause. Also, Thursdays at 10 is my preferred time for massages, and one must have priorities.

On the plus side, I wore jeans and my old Lucchese cowboy boots, which I haven’t done in a couple of years. At least I looked cute, and that takes a few brain cells, doesn’t it?

Bridge is interesting, and I can totally see the attraction. I generally like games. I really liked this group of women. If they had a Yahtzee league, I’m all in. I used to play Hearts back in the day, and that didn’t kill me. Backgammon. Scrabble.

But bridge, wow. I’m 67, reasonably intelligent and in excellent health. However, I don’t think I have enough time left to understand this game.

Even without the card counting and all that, there are all kinds of weird things including where you sit and what cards you play – north, south, east and west. What’s so wrong about left and right?

Sometimes your partner will show all their cards, and you play those, too. Like one hand wasn’t enough. And all these little codes to signal your partner how you want to bid. If everyone subscribes to the same convention, why not just say it in plain English? I have five spades!

I didn’t want to disappoint my friends, but I also didn’t want to pretend I’d come back when I knew it was a lost cause. While I acknowledge some stress is good for you, this is the kind of stress that makes me miserable. Rather than drag it out, I just laid it out for them. They were gracious, but now they have to find a replacement, which sucks for them.

When I got home, I told Dale he was right. Numbers gone wild! Crazy stuff! And all my Thursdays eaten up just to learn the basics? I’m pretty sure I would start dreading Thursdays, finding excuses to stay in bed, when in fact it’s a rather pleasant day of the week that has done me no previous harm.

He said, “So, you’re saying it was a bridge too far?”

The man’s still got it. 

All this is good news for those of you who enjoy reading my blog. I haven’t posted in a couple of weeks, and I had been thinking, maybe I’ll just quit writing. But that’s looking like a bad strategy now that I know bridge isn’t going to save me.   

I promised the bridge gods I would work harder at writing if they would just leave me alone.

You can quote me on that

    January marks five years of publishing Retirement Confidential. In honor of this anniversary, I suffered through pages and pages of old posts to cull some of my more cogent thoughts about life after work. I hope you enjoy the recap.

    Thank you for making it all possible. Happy New Year!

    • In large part, retirement is about making it to the finish line and doing whatever you can get away with.
    • Many retirees are probably unemployable. Not that we’re uppity, but our bullshit meters are pegged. Oh, and our inside voice is now our outside voice.
    • While big retirement goals typically require planning, preparation and commitment, in the art of the slack, it’s important to set a low bar for the routines of daily life.
    • I got my first Social Security payment this month. That was fun. While I don’t miss work, I do like to be on the receiving end of money.
    • As a childless couple, we want to spend our principal … just not all at once. I like the idea of “die broke.” However, I would like to avoid being alive and broke.
    • We add layers and layers of accommodations and behaviors to earn a living, and we start to believe that’s who we really are. Retirement is a journey toward freeing ourselves from expectations and accepting we don’t have to be more than we are.
    • One thing I’ve learned in retirement is there’s something to be said for wishful thinking. I have been on both sides of the attitude spectrum, and nothing good ever happened when I thought the glass was half-empty.
    • I woke up the other morning thinking, “I should get a job.” I used to like people. Maybe I could learn to like them again.
    • Retirement can be the opportunity to discover or re-discover who you are when nobody is watching.
    • What if we don’t need to continuously improve ourselves? Here’s a radical thought. What if being content is what it actually means to reach our full potential? What if being alive is our greatest accomplishment?
    • I’ve had weird retirement dreams lately. I’m working at my old job but wondering why there isn’t more money in my bank account. Did they forget to pay me? Then I realize I wasn’t working at all and haven’t had a job in years. I wake up happy.
    • Illness definitely affected my professional timetable. My first bout of cancer woke me up to get serious about work, and my second bout woke me up to get serious about life.
    • In the grand scheme of things, I haven’t accomplished much. I consider making enough money to retire my greatest achievement.
    • Retirement can be an unbelievable opportunity to pursue nothing – and that is everything.
    • I’m not one to document goals, accomplishments or disappointments. If I wanted to do all that, I would be working.
    • I never get sick of retirement. Even when I read the news, and it’s all horrible and depressing, I think, well, at least I get to sleep in.
    • On multiple occasions, my boss said I couldn’t take vacation. I think she just got nervous when the flock wasn’t there. When I retired, I had more than 30 days of vacation paid to me because I never got to use it. Yo, girlfriend, guess who’s on vacation now?
    • In many ways, it would have been easier to keep working. At least you get paid to avoid self-reflection.
    • Once you have enough to get by without a job, time becomes more important than money or stuff.
    • Waking up without an alarm is one of the greatest joys retirement brings. I waited my whole life for this.

    The Great Resignation

    Have you been reading about The Great Resignation? Droves of people are quitting their jobs, much of it as a result of the pandemic. While lots of factors play into their decisions, including child care challenges, it sounds like workers have discovered the joys of a slower pace and aren’t going back until they find something with more balance.

    You’ll notice I didn’t say work-life balance. In one job, I wrote talking points for the president of the company about his efforts to change the culture of the workplace. He asked me to “socialize” them with other executives, and one VP took issue with the term work-life balance. He said, and I quote, “Work is life.”

    As for resigning, we get it, don’t we? One of the reasons I retired earlyish is because the rat race was wearing me out, too. But I was 62, and my husband and I had enough money saved to presumably last the rest of our lives. These are young people gambling with their futures … holding out until employers bend.

    I’ve never understood why 40 hours a week isn’t enough. In my last job, you were expected to put in at least 50, preferably more. My boss had some sort of document readily accessible on her smartphone that could instantly tell her who was putting in the most unpaid overtime … and who wasn’t.

    She would check on weekends to see if your Instant Messenger light was green, which usually meant you were online and working.

    Granted, I was highly compensated, but my hourly rate was down there with fast food. Not really, but you like to think you’re paid more because you bring extra value, not because you are willing to give up having a life outside of work.

    Fast food reminds me of a funny story.

    We had just returned from working abroad, and I interviewed for a job at an insurance company in Columbia, S.C. They made an offer, and I countered.

    I made more money than that at my last job working in Egypt.

    Well, that was overseas. You can’t compare us to overseas.

    I made more money than that when I lived in Alabama.

    Well, that was aerospace. You can’t compare us to aerospace.

    I accepted the job anyway, but when I later told the story to a coworker, he said his response would have been:

    I made more money than that when I worked at Captain D’s.

    Well, that was fast food. You can’t compare us to fast food.

    That story still makes me laugh.

    Anyway, I want the workers to find their bliss, but I can’t say I have much hope. I suspect they’ll enjoy some time off, run out of money and once again be at the mercy of the man.

    It’s a tough predicament, and I have no love left for what’s become of the workplace, but I have some amazing memories and am still exceedingly grateful for all my experiences.

    And the money. Oh, and retirement. Definitely retirement.