When I started in my current job, I met a member of the firm’s staff.  She was an elder lady in her 60s, and she maintained the kitchens on the various floors in working order (i.e., cleaning, making sure coffee was available, and that there were cups, napkins, sugar, cream, etc.).  Her name was Beatrice. 

I spoke to Beatrice and got to know her, and her story illustrates why the traditional process of working until you’re 65 and then retiring just doesn’t work.

The Career

Beatrice worked here at this firm for years.  She was best known for bringing around Cuban coffee to whoever wanted a cup.  She followed through on this routine every day, and I don’t remember a morning when she didn’t stop into my office and offered me Cuban coffee.

This is how our work lives progress.  (Well, the verb “progress” isn’t quite right because there really is no “progress” unless you include the countdown towards the arbitrary retirement age of 65.)  We wake up every morning, go to work, and perform the same tasks over and over again.  

It’s like Groundhog Day.  You lose your identity, and your “work” becomes you.  You lose yourself in mindless, repetitive tasks that mean less and less the more they are performed.

Retirement Day

Then comes retirement.  Beatrice retired, and on her last day, everyone at work threw her a going-away party.  There was cake and food.  There were speeches.  There were acknowledgments.  There was crying.  Beatrice exited on a wave of emotion.  It was a great day for her.

The life of an employee is supposed to culminate in this event.  Everything you have worked for your whole life is for this moment: retirement.  Now, at 65 (or 66, or 67, etc.), you can enjoy the rest of your life (as humorous as that might sound).  Beatrice was in her mid-60s, and she said she was looking forward to all the free time she was going to have.

Retirement

The week after her final day at the firm, Beatrice and her husband decided to jump-start her retirement by traveling to Europe for a couple of months.  They toured every country they could.  France, Spain, England, Portugal, Greece, Italy, etc.  They had the time of their lives.  

They saw every important site.  They ate until they stuffed themselves.  They drank wine.  They stayed in great hotels. 

And then . . . they returned home.

The Vacuum

Beatrice found herself at home one day a couple of months after their return from Europe.  It was now 4 months since her retirement.  She had trouble sleeping past 5 a.m.  It was difficult not to make a huge pot of coffee like she had for 30-35 employees per floor all those years.  She couldn’t sit still and watch television or read a book. 

Her husband was at home with her, but she couldn’t get used to talking to him for long periods of time.  Beatrice didn’t know what to do for lunch.  For years, she would bring a sandwich for herself.  Now, however, the refrigerator had too many opportunities from which to choose.  It was confusing for her.  It was also too quiet during the day.  Nothing like the hustle and bustle of a busy work environment. 

By about 1 p.m. in the afternoon that day, she was so antsy that she couldn’t stay inside the house.  She went outside for a breath of fresh air.  Her mind was cluttered.  She couldn’t think clearly and understand why she couldn’t just relax.  Finding things to do was a never-ending problem.  She couldn’t focus on one activity or a variety of activities to engage in to pass the time.   

She was becoming annoyed with her husband.  But Beatrice couldn’t figure out why.  The more she thought it through, she realized that only one thing could fix this problem.  Only one decision would quell her anxiety, alleviate her boredom, and help her be more tolerant of her husband.

She decided she needed to go back to work.

Return to Work

I remember seeing Beatrice her first day back.  She popped into my office and offered me Cuban coffee.  She explained why she had returned to work.  “Boredom,” as she described it, forced her to come back. 

But she was glowing.  She looked relaxed, and she spoke with purpose.  It was as if she was finally home.

I can’t explain in two sentences why Beatrice had to return to work.  I’ll leave a more extensive explanation for a future post. 

But for now, it’s best to say that she felt empty upon retiring.  All she had known her whole life was her job.  Performing at work was her purpose each and every day.  When retirement removed that routine from her daily life, she felt lost and didn’t know what to do.  She became like Brooks from The Shawshank Redemption.  Returning to work–the most significant identity she had known for the past 40 years–was the only medicine that would cure her.

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