Soft Landings

In today's Boston Globe there was a nicely done essay by Susan Trausch.  You can read it if you click here.  She took a buyout from the Globe five years ago at age 59.  After 32 years at the same company, her transition from work to retirement was "complicated."    She has written a book* about her personal period of adjustment, (which I plan to read if I ever have any free time.)

The op-ed piece titled "Retirement's Soft Landings" offers a bit of tongue-in-cheek advice to celebrities who have publicly announced their imminent retirement (Oprah, Joe Torre, Richard Daly).

Trausch nails it when she talks about the  bitter-sweet transition after waving goodbye to your career and workmates,

" Oh the tyranny of time managed poorly. The tyranny of time at work was so different, mainly because time was in charge and knew what it was doing. There were bosses, assignments, schedules, deadlines, and a gross domestic product to consider. At home there is complete freedom and an easily distracted human being can spend days drifting from leaky garden hose to unread New Yorkers to hunting for the grocery list that must have blown off the counter to e-mail to the daily crossword puzzle that is supposed to keep the mind focused"

As faithful readers of this blog well know, your humble scribe has been wrestling with retirement issues since he escaped from the hellhole several years ago.  As one who has never been bored, I found retirement to be exceedingly liberating.  Suddenly, no one is telling you what to do, where to be, what time to show-up, and how to get there.  You think: This is how life should be!  

I changed the name of the blog from "Hellhole Update" to "Escape from the Hellhole" to celebrate the new found feeling of having emerged from a cage.  I was happy, delighted and at peace.  Now I was free to do anything I wanted to do.  Fishing, traveling, reading, meeting friends for lunch, catching up on the lengthy to-do list... And I did enjoy doing those things.

But having all that freedom is not without it's drawbacks.  When people ask me, "How do you like retirement?" my answer is: "Overall I am delighted to be at leisure.  However, every few months, I get this vague feeling that I am missing something, that I am not doing anything important.  I start to worry (again) that the missus and me will outlive our nest egg." 
I have probably bored my loyal readers with the recurrent observation that most normal adults  do not experience unqualified happiness for very long (and this is well explained by Maslow's theory, The Hierarchy of Needs).     Our brains are creative goal-seeking mechanisms, so we cannot be satisfied with the status quo, because new goals keep forming as long as the brain is functioning.  (Hmmn, maybe this last condition explains why some people are deliriously happy in retirement. )

Fortunately, this "uncertain phase" does not last for very long**.  I usually respond to the vague noodgy feelings of insignificance by looking at part time job ads for high paying opportunities within walking distance of home.  There are virtually no part time jobs, unless you want to become a replaceable part, working for an indecent hourly wage, on the worst shift.  So, I usually get over this phase pretty quickly.  Then, I make some lunch plans or go fishing. 
And, for a time,  all is right with the world.

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*Trausch's newly published book: "Groping Toward Whatever Or How I Learned To Retire, Sort Of.’’

** My wife attributes this "uncertainty" to mild seasonal depression. She was an English major in college but feels that she is  fully qualified to diagnose my mental state.

The Case for Procrastination

For several years now, I have been working on an essay titled “The Case for Procrastination.” It takes issue with our over planned and goal oriented society. It examines the deleterious effects of the crazy-busy lives of people – especially those who are working at a career and raising families – who never have time to “Stop and smell the roses”.

I have a few paragraphs completed, but I doubt that I’ll get to it in the foreseeable future. Lots of other stuff to do that seems more interesting right now.

The unfinished essay examines procrastination as a personal style rather than a chronic illness that some people seem to inherit.  (I have no scientific evidence that procrastination is inherited. I just believe it to be so after years of observing my siblings and myself. We are inveterate and practiced procrastinators.)

Successful procrastinators tend to work exceedingly well under the pressure of an imminent deadline.
They may put things off until the last minute but they tend to work quite efficiently during that last minute.  This is why I can start working on my tax returns on April 14 and finish under the deadline.  I'm sure there are other positive things to say about procrastinators, and when I think of them I will finish the essay, I promise....

There are certain luxuries appertaining to being a retired, life-long procrastinator. One can choose to adopt an un-hurried approach to goals. (Some people who know me may be saying to themselves Hey Mr. No-sense-of-urgency, what’s new?   What’s new is that now I don’t hurry on my own time. I don’t feel the same pressure as I would if I had to report my activities to a boss. )
 
I believe that the ability to remain calm in the face of zipping time is actually a sign of wisdom. Who needs to rush around getting-things-done when there will always be more things to be done? Young people do not have the acquired wisdom to recognize this fact of life. They imagine that if they rush and get stuff done, they will have earned the chill-time to take an afternoon off to play golf or sit on the deck with a trashy novel.

But seldom do working people actually realize those imagined rewards because work will not let up on you. Getting things done begets more things, The boss – seeing that you have a capacity for getting lots of things done, sends more things to your inbox. In a business there is no respite. Sure there are rewards. You get more pay, and you inevitably get promoted to a position of increased responsibility – which results in even more demands on your available time.  If you do get to the golf course or weekend getaway, you must be Blackberried-up and always "on-call."

There is always a price tag on anything you get in an organization: usually, the price of perks and rewards is the increasing trade-off of your personal time. Successful people recognize this trade-off as a Faustian deal with the devil, and they assure themselves that they will repair the damaged relationships and health if they can survive long enough to get that well-earned retirement. Sadly for them, this strategy does not work. The halls of retirement are filled with once successful executives who are perplexed to find themselves estranged from the home and family they always believed they were working to support.

Looking back, I am not sorry that I took the less stressful road - not that I had a choice, mind you.  When I was born, three weeks past the forecasted due date, weighing-in at nearly 11 pounds, the doctor gravely pointed-out to my mother,  "He was born without a sense of urgency."

Labored Thoughts

Some of the newcomers to this blog may have been misled by the use of the term "afterlife" in the blog description.  If you thought I was talking about some spiritual or cosmic afterlife, I apologize (- - for your poor reading skills.  Really, you must learn to read more carefully.)

No, afterlife, in this context, refers to that phase of life between the time you surrender the responsibilities and commitment to The Job, The Career, the Kids, the Unfinished Novel and your untimely death.   Unlike the promised heaven or hell that your preachers have guaranteed to be the reward for your behavior in this life, this blog uses the term to allude to the shadowy existence of people (such as I)  who have retired from the hustle and bustle of everyday commerce, the classroom or even  the mind-shredding boredom of a career spend nuzzling the teat of the government.

Retirement and Heaven may seem to be synonymous for many working stiffs, as they fantasize about the Rewards that surely must await those who have patiently endured the slings and arrows of the average job. The gauzy image of that much anticipated state of Nirvana may populate the daydreams of countless oppressed and misused worker bees as they toil under the debt-fueled fear of losing this crappy job ( -- undoubtedly made even crappier by some micromanaging nitpicker.)
In the work-a-day world, time is money; you are typically paid commensurate with the amount of time you spend in the office.  You get accustomed to the idea that someone values your time.  However, as you settle into the afterlife, you gradually realize that your time has zero value to others.  No one pays you for reading the newspapers while dawdling over a leisurely breakfast.  There is no bonus for biggest fish.  Your below- par performance at the links may actually require you to buy the beers for the other duffers.  No one calls from the office disturbing you at inconvenient moments with career threatening emergencies. 

Work is largely regarded by American society as a no-fault excuse to avoid social and familial obligations.  ("Gee I'd love to go over and see the 300 photos of your niece's baby shower, but, well I am just slammed here at the office.  Maybe another time...")  But, now that you do not have work as a refuge, you are assailed by family and friends who need a favor or a spouse who demands that you accompany them on errands.

So, young retiree wanabees, I am afraid I must give it to you straight on this Labor Day.  You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?  Another day older and deeper in debt. Then you retire and spend most of the time checking your retirement nest egg, wondering when the shitty economy is going to start being over.  And, hoping that the government can stay solvent and keep sending you that anticipated SS check.

Instead of  enjoying your free time with  travel, fishing and playing golf, you spend a third of your week at the doctors office getting looked at, prodded and listened to.  The exams become ever so much more intimate each year.  Or if it is not your ass that the doc has his finger up, you are driving someone else to his-or-her appointment.  (No one hesitates to ask you for a ride, since you are retired and probably have nothing better to do.)

Thinking About Big Houses

No more silence and peace around here. At least not until they finish tearing-down old, perfectly servicable houses and replacing them with huge un-necessary mansions with more bathrooms than bedrooms.

I am conflicted by my desire for personal peace and quiet and my belief that others have the right to improve their property. After all, doesn't the neighborhood benefit from nicer homes? All boats rise with the tide, isn't that what they say? The answer is not always yes.

For those of us who live in the older, perfectly serviceable homes that are getting torn down, the property values do not necessarily reflect the inflated value of the mansionized neighborhood. If the potential buyer is only interested in your lot, not your house, then clearly no one will care about your bathroom tile or kitchen counters. A tear-down house is only worth the price of the dirt, as one real estate guy told me.

As retirees, we are acutely aware that we are approaching the time when we will be wanting to migrate to a more accommodating living space. By that I mean all the rooms on the same level.  Low maintenance yard. Near ammenities and medical services that we will unfortunately need as entropy and gravity work their evil powers.  Some day, someone will knock on the door and make an offer we cannot refuse.  They will demolish my beloved screen porch, dig out my hostas and replace them with expensive ornamentals, replace our dilapitated cedar fence with a taller one made of plastic.  Maybe they will chop down the trees and replace them with a swimming pool, like the new one down the street.

These noisy mansion builders are clearly non-union. They start banging and sawing at 7am, and shouting in a foreign tongue. (Hey, I am not xenophobic: they are obviously doing jobs that English speaking natives do not want.) American construction workers typically quit at around 4pm. But these guys keep sawing and banging and shouting all day until dark - which these days is 7pm.  I'll bet Mr. Trebbiani (the builder who put up most of the houses in neighborhood back in the 50's) would be shocked and amazed to see his modest 2200 sq ft homes demolished and replaced with 4,000 sq foot behemoths to house a family of 5 - with a bedroom and bathroom for each person.  He probably would have thought, "You need a bigger lot."

In the old days, 12 of us would be living in a three bedroom flat with one bathroom and a ten gallon waterheater.  We huddled together for warmth.  We had to walk 8 miles in a snowstorm to get to school wearing worn out sneakers, even in Summer!  Ok,  it wasn't really that bad.  But I wonder what kind of spoiled little princesses and wusses are being raised in houses where no one needs to wait to get into the bathroom.  Those moments spent waiting for a sibling to emerge were important lessons about balancing stress and patience. (Never let them know you are in a state of urgency, or they will take much longer.) These were character building preparations for an adult life of challenge and competition for scarce resources.

When I was growing-up, vacant lots still existed. We loved to go into empty half-built homes and play hide and seek. We ask for a few scrap boards and the carpenters would give us some nails and we would go off and build a tree house in someone's yard. The mother of the house would eye us with our tools and wood and demand, "What are you kids up to?"
"We are gonna build a tree house."
"Ok, be careful. Don't poke your eye out"

Today the mom would be so worried that one of us might hurt ourselves (and possibly sue) that she would forbid the project on the grounds of safety. "You'll fall and put your eye out!  Why don't you kids play down in the rec room?  We have a new 150 inch screen! Wear your helmets"

There Will be Blood

According to news reports, about two million French workers walked off their jobs yesterday to protest the government plan to increase retirement ages for pension eligibility. The plan that is being proposed is to raise the minimum retirement age from 60 to 62, to take effect in 2018.


The issue for the government is of course money.  Back in the good old (French socialist Party) days, there were 7 people working for every pension recipient. By 2018 there will be only 1.1 people working for every collector of pension money.  The government rightly recognizes that this is an unsustainable equation.

But the unions are determined to block any reforms.  So they are whipping up the masses to make a big show of solidarity against the government by inconveniencing everyone.  Another reason to think twice before spending one's travel dollars in a place where trains and planes may or may not be running at any given time. 

Workers in Greece recently rebelled with violence at the austerity measures being instituted by the government in the face of financial meltdown.  One of the changes involved raising the retirement age to 63.

Recently, we have even seen worker strikes in China.  Perhaps the Chinese are allowing textile workers to strike in a shrewd strategy of moving their low-paying jobs out of China to even lower cost countries such as India.  The Chinese may see the demand for higher wages as a way to drive away the low-end business and to shift their workforce to work in more lucrative higher tech products, so they can compete for the higher-end markets.

The labor unrest in France and other parts of  Europe are probably precursors to future troubles here in the USA.  The steady rise in the standard of living for workers in Western economies has set a fairly high bar for wage and benefit expectations.  The labor costs were sustainable in a boom period, but as we have seen, the principal response of business to hard times is to slash costs.  This is manifested in shifts to lower-cost suppliers (ie, places where workers are paid less lavishly) and reductions in the size of the workforce.

In the USA we have a large overpaid work force.  The successes of organized labor in getting generous benefits for the rank and file have raised both expectations and costs to an unsustainable level.  Many of the jobs that were lost during the most recent recession will not come back.  How long can we afford to pay unemployment benefits to specialized workers whose jobs have permanently gone to China or India ?  Can the entitlement promises by progressives be funded by simply taxing the hell out of the rich? 

History and a study of human nature shows that you can't take something away without a tough fight.  Unfortunately, I fear that there will be blood.