Well, here I am – out of work. And I am the one who decided to come here.
I’ve relinquished my job at the camera shop and returned the keys and work shirts. The final payments from the office for wages, holiday pay and a long service pay have totted up and put into the bank. The goodbye pint of beer and slice of pizza have been consumed. I am outta there.
At 67 years old, I may have done a bad thing – trading regular employment and a fortnightly paycheque for nothing at all – but I am betting that it will be a good thing instead. Here is why:
- My tolerance for awkward and entitled people peaked some time ago and then declined. Markedly. Far better to stand down from the verbal 17 pounder before the temptation to pull the lanyard became irresistible.
- The same old awkward and entitled people kept reappearing. I realise I will meet their kin in any field of endeavour in the future but at least they will be new arrogant faces…
- Part-time work pays part-time money. But at my age my desires and tastes are modest and I can serve them well with part-time money.
- The time that you have for yourself after part-time work is greater. That time can be learning time, fun time, hobby time, or family time. Unfortunately some of that time is home maintenance and repair time but…
- The home needs to be maintained and repaired. This also applies to the car, the clothes, and the body. I will get time to visit the dentist and doctor.
- At liberty, I might dress better, or worse, than I have heretofore at work. I intend to make it better – I have seen far too many men of my age look like Guys or overage teenagers. You cannot buy much dignity with clothing but you can buy some.
- After work, if I have no expectation of returning to the same premises or profession, I can tell the truth to people who may never have heard it before. It may be sad truth, or bad truth, or truth with three-gang fish hooks attached, but I can tell it nevertheless. It might even be kind truth, or pleasant truth – but the important thing is that it IS truth.
- I need not pretend to myself anymore. I can discard the lies and false premises that have ringed me since I was a teenager. I may lose some friends – Indeed I think my Facebook feed has slimmed down recently – but the ones I retain will get the real me. God help them.
- I need not try to have the greatest or newest of things anymore. I can use up what I already have. If I do not need it, I do not have to pretend to myself that I do.
- I can write more. I will not end up at the end of the day feeling and acting like a zombie. My posts will get better. I may even step up to a sophisticated website or blog.
- Monday is the day after Sunday every week – but who, retired, cares?