The Starbucks was not unique. But are they ever? Manzanillo or Paris, you feel as if you are within walking distance of the Pike Place Fish Market.
A lawyer colleague had invited me to coffee to talk about my job duties over the summer. She ordered coffee. I was happy with a plate of conversation and a side of smug complacency.
Well, I was complacent until she said: "I see you flunked retirement -- just like my Dad. He flunked twice. What is it with lawyers?"
At the time, I was a bit offended. No. I was defensively offended. Because she had hit a raw nerve.
When I came north, I told myself returning to work had nothing to do with flunking retirement. I was simply returning to help my employer transition the new guy into my old job.
That exchange came back to me on Saturday afternoon. School friends from Olympia drove down to spend the day with me. Their daughter needed to do some shopping. So, off we went to the local outlet mall.
I know it verges on sexist to say it out loud, but most women enjoy shopping. Most men don't.
While the women folk went off to gather treasures, my friend Ken and I sat on a bench doing our best impression of two old guys waiting for a bus. And we were good.
The topic quickly turned to retirement. He told me he is making the jump soon. He was amazed that all of his friends and colleagues ask him the same question: "But what will you do?"
"But what will you do?" I heard it a lot. And still do. One of our blog colleagues has grabbed irony by its horn and named her blog accordingly.
It was not until that afternoon that I realized the question is based on a false assumption. Embedded in those five words is a far different question: "If you do not do what you are doing now, who will you be?" The assumption comes from a society that defines its members by what they do.
I am not just Steve at work. I am Steve the Attorney. Just as there is Holly the Adjuster. Mike the Vice President. Brenda the CEO.
Strip those titles from our names, and we become as anonymous as a dethroned czar. People with no apparent purpose.
Or so we think. And perception matters. Especially, our self-perception. Until we are happy just being ourselves and are happy being alone with ourselves, slipping into retirement can be as frightening as creeping Alzheimer's.
Ken and I had quite an exchange on why "what we do" is irrelevant to retirement. And I felt as if I had just had another side order of smug complacency.
That is, until I remembered my coffee get-together last spring. I suspect I did flunk retirement. When I heard my old job was being filled, I played with the idea of applying for the position. That thought passed quickly. But i did the second best thing. I offered to return to train my replacement. Because I thought I still needed something "to do."
And I am glad I did. The last six months have taught me I made the correct decision -- to retire. I am now ready for a titleless life.
A life that will resume in four more weeks.
Warm up that hammock. I have a rendezvous with the rest of my life.
A lawyer colleague had invited me to coffee to talk about my job duties over the summer. She ordered coffee. I was happy with a plate of conversation and a side of smug complacency.
Well, I was complacent until she said: "I see you flunked retirement -- just like my Dad. He flunked twice. What is it with lawyers?"
At the time, I was a bit offended. No. I was defensively offended. Because she had hit a raw nerve.
When I came north, I told myself returning to work had nothing to do with flunking retirement. I was simply returning to help my employer transition the new guy into my old job.
That exchange came back to me on Saturday afternoon. School friends from Olympia drove down to spend the day with me. Their daughter needed to do some shopping. So, off we went to the local outlet mall.
I know it verges on sexist to say it out loud, but most women enjoy shopping. Most men don't.
While the women folk went off to gather treasures, my friend Ken and I sat on a bench doing our best impression of two old guys waiting for a bus. And we were good.
The topic quickly turned to retirement. He told me he is making the jump soon. He was amazed that all of his friends and colleagues ask him the same question: "But what will you do?"
"But what will you do?" I heard it a lot. And still do. One of our blog colleagues has grabbed irony by its horn and named her blog accordingly.
It was not until that afternoon that I realized the question is based on a false assumption. Embedded in those five words is a far different question: "If you do not do what you are doing now, who will you be?" The assumption comes from a society that defines its members by what they do.
I am not just Steve at work. I am Steve the Attorney. Just as there is Holly the Adjuster. Mike the Vice President. Brenda the CEO.
Strip those titles from our names, and we become as anonymous as a dethroned czar. People with no apparent purpose.
Or so we think. And perception matters. Especially, our self-perception. Until we are happy just being ourselves and are happy being alone with ourselves, slipping into retirement can be as frightening as creeping Alzheimer's.
Ken and I had quite an exchange on why "what we do" is irrelevant to retirement. And I felt as if I had just had another side order of smug complacency.
That is, until I remembered my coffee get-together last spring. I suspect I did flunk retirement. When I heard my old job was being filled, I played with the idea of applying for the position. That thought passed quickly. But i did the second best thing. I offered to return to train my replacement. Because I thought I still needed something "to do."
And I am glad I did. The last six months have taught me I made the correct decision -- to retire. I am now ready for a titleless life.
A life that will resume in four more weeks.
Warm up that hammock. I have a rendezvous with the rest of my life.
