If you are over 60 you are either thinking about retirement or you are already retired. Outliers aside, who retire earlier or are on the other end of the spectrum and work into their 70’s, being in your 60’s in the transitional decade from your meat and potatoes career to whatever it is you are going to do once retired. Play more golf, travel, fish, visit the grandkids, build that shed for the riding mower there was never time to do, or become a docent at the local museum. Whatever it is that you’ve spent the last 40 years planning for; the time that becomes “My Time.”
Are we emotionally prepared for what comes next? In my case retirement was forced on me 4 years before my estate plan had forecasted a position to be comfortable if I lived to 100. That is ambitious, but it has always seemed to me that anything less is kind of quitting. I mean, why not 100? Nice round number. Lots of attention on your last birthday.
It was 2020 and Covid caused a lot of businesses to trim down or to re-evaluate their business plans. I was in advertising and the assets I offered for 17 years were no longer going to be part of the company. I was let go. That happened to a lot of us at the tail end of my generation.
Unemployment kicked in but my wife was just starting a new job and we had kids in various stages of college. And so I had to take my SAG/AFTRA pension before it matured from my 20 year career in show business (that’s another story but will surface again in this essay), and I had to find new work.
And it didn’t happen. No one in my field was looking to hire a 63 year old with an executive salary. I lowered my conditions for employment but still not a single bite. Call it ageism (and I will) but the horizon looked closed for business. With a couple of other retired professionals, we formed a consulting consortium (Outlier Creative Solutions which we continue) and cobbled together jobs based on our years of experience.
In a world of mortgages, bills and tuitions, however, sporadic extra income did not make the grade. After two years of nipping at my 401k, I took my Social Security at 65. I was eligible, of course, but earlier than its maturity. Between an early pension and social security with consulting freelance work, we broke even until my wife’s new job took off.
Let me stop here for a moment. This is not a hard luck story. I am among the fortunate and count my many blessings daily. This is a story of the reality of unexpected insecurities and events at that time in our lives when the careers that propelled us settle into history and the future is mapped only by walking trails in a new frontier.
There are aches and pains now and blood pressure measurements, aided by pills and diets. There is the loss of parents and friends in a landscape that grows larger and places our own mortality front and center. This is a time when fewer people can offer the guidance that was once so bountiful from so many who were older. Our age group is shrinking as we stand at the cusp of mature and oak tree OLD.
And that is what I wasn’t ready for.
I like people. I need people. I need to be useful. And so I work with underprivileged kids, mentor students any chance I get, teach communication skills to corporations, am on the board of directors at several organizations, have an entertaining podcast, and still gather freelance work as an actor, voice over artist and director. My jobs may be different from most but I don’t believe I am uncommon as I know plenty of people in their 60’s, 70s and 80s who are as active as I am. What I wasn’t prepared for was the identity crisis that came with not having a regular job; the careers that clearly defined me. I was not prepared for the questions I found myself asking: Am I defined only by my past? Who am I now? What do I do for a living?
It’s easy to say “You’re retired! You do whatever you want” but some of you reading this will know what I’m talking about when I ask those questions. I was struggling on days that had gaping holes in the middle.
Then two weeks ago I woke up suddenly to tell my wife: “I’m going to work at Tropical Smoothie!”
“What?” was her semi-conscious reply. To say she was very surprised would not be complete. She was very surprised and confused. “The definition you have decided for yourself is that you’re a…fast food employee?”
She had been dealing with (and compassionately so) my uncertainties and concerns for a while and has patiently listened to my fears of aging, the heartbreak of losing friends to illness, and my feelings of inadequacy as a financial part of the household. What I said to her didn’t jibe with anything we had been discussing for the better part of the past year.
She didn’t know there was method to my madness.
Tropical Smoothie didn’t come out of thin air. My youngest son is a manager at the one down the street. He is working hard to put away enough money as he considers several options from college to moving to Los Angeles. I go there frequently as a customer and have gotten to know the owners who operate the business on the floor day to day.
One day as I sat in the dining area with my favorite smoothie (the Jetty with banana and strawberry) and my go-to Thai chicken wrap, I watched the choreography of business and direct customer relations. I was enthralled by the hard work, scored by friendly banter between employees and the person at the drive up window to each customer. I remembered when I was 16 and 17 and working at McDonalds in Cedar Falls and felt the immediacy again of putting work blinders on and making the machinery of food service function. I missed the action. I missed having a schedule that made the end of the work cycle feel like a day when I earned my pay.
I asked myself questions that would soon come to roost that morning with my wife: “What keeps me from doing this? Am I too proud because I was once on television in millions of homes? Or because I was well-known in this town as a successful executive for many years? Am I afraid of people judging me as a has-been?”
These thoughts wrestled in my head for a while. “Why would I want to work so hard when I don’t have to? Shouldn’t I keep hustling for the freelance work I am highly respected for? Or should I, after all, finally just improve my golf game so people would actually want to play with me….”
That’s when it hit me on that night and leapt out of my brain at 5 am.
None of those worries mattered. This is “my time.” I should do whatever I want. I am 67. I have nothing to prove. I’m not looking for a raise or to get the corner office. I have no one to impress but myself. That is the grace afforded to being this age. What judgment matters except my own perception of my accomplishments?
And if I want to feel the grind again that I felt long ago before my career even started, then why not?
My criteria is to be active and to lose the pounds my doctor says are critical to shed to stave off future health problems. It is to be out with people, young and old. It is to use my skills at customer service to demonstrate to others how kindness can make someone’s day. And make my day.
Before I took the job I asked my son if he was sure this was ok with him. I wondered if he might be a little embarrassed that his father, once fairly well known, is now taking orders for smoothies and wraps.
“Dad. I get to work with you every day. What could be better than that?”
So I showed up on September 12th, 2024 at 6:30 am and started to work. Naturally, as fate would have it, several customers recognized me and didn’t know how to take this. One actually thought this must be a taping of “Undercover Boss.”
I laughed and told the truth: “I need to be busier in the morning before the other things I do. And what better way than to make contact with the dozens of people each morning who want to start their day off right, just like me.”
I didn’t say that to everyone, but I thought it to myself. That was the emotional preparation I needed to begin a new chapter in retirement.
So, there you have it. That’s my story and you may cull from it whatever you like, but here’s what is obvious if you are retired: This is your life. No one controls your destiny now but you. In fact, anywhere you are is lucky to have your experience. Know that your accomplishments are on all sides of your life, in front and behind. It’s a special place. What you do is no one’s business to judge and the only judgment YOU should make is this- Am I happy?
These can be the happiest days ever at the Shady Rest retirement resort and dance club. It doesn’t matter if you’re playing golf, volunteering for charity, greeting folks at Walmart or still putting in a few hours at the old firm. Maybe you need to make more money because your retirement plan came up short. Regardless, the day is officially yours.
Meanwhile….see you at the corner of Kimball and San Marnan between 7 and 10. Weekdays.
And always have a Tropical Smoothie Day! Thanks for stopping by!
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