Adios Nine to Five
It was a happy day, a sad day; it was a day for long last looks and bittersweet thoughts. It was a day for hugs and smiles, pats on the back, laughter and tears. The workplace took on a different complexion today for her, a color never before seen when she realized that she’d never view it again as an employee. She’d never climb those 22 stairs up to her office level again, never spend her weekdays among her “other” family, the folks she’d spent the long, echoing years working among.
She’d taken up her duties at this company 42 years ago when Nixon was president and the end of the Vietnam War was still raging. Now it was Obama’s turn in the White House and the world had changed in uncounted ways.
I heard my wife Judy get out of bed early today, much earlier than normal for her. I knew from her tossing and turning in the night just past that her rest had been fitful and her mind was already at her workplace, already shaking hands and smiling through the just-under-the-surface tears.
Already saying goodbye.
I almost arose with her then, in the dark of her last day at work, to offer a ride to the office, to offer some funny remark, some bit of humor to make her relax a little. But instead I stayed in bed as I normally did, listening to her go through her ritual of “getting ready for work” one last time. This was her day and I wanted her to have that ritual unimpeded one last time.
I felt I understood her thoughts, at least a little bit, as I had gone through the same bittersweet period of time in my life four months ago when I did as she was about to do.
Retire.
When I heard her car leave the driveway I got out of bed and let the dog out of her crate. She was raring to go, as always, and raced me down the stairs to await near her food bowl, her tail wagging madly, her nails clicking on the kitchen floor and her tongue already tasting her morning kibble. She knew how mornings were supposed to go. Food first, then outside where she would sniff the air, sniff the ground and watch the world all around with her bright doggie eyes. She’d perhaps comment on a nearby squirrel, a robin hunting worms in the neighbor’s yard, a bicyclist zooming along or a noisy car passing on the street. Hopefully she’d do her potty and we’d go back inside. It was chilly this morning.
The dog never gave a thought about her mistress’s retirement that day. Perhaps being a dog might be a good thing from time to time.
I drank my coffee and read the morning paper as usual, then got busy working on the project I’d been toiling on for a week or two – painting the kitchen. It was a “normal” day for me, a “retired guy” kind of normal of course, but normal all the same.
But my thoughts kept drifting to my wife. Was she out of her last meeting with her boss yet? Had she visited the workmen and engineers that all seemed to know her, even the ones she couldn’t quite put a name to? Had she packed up the last leavings of her desk and turned off her computer for the last time? Had she bid a heartfelt goodbye to the folks who worked closest with her, those whom she spent so doggoned many hours with. Had she gazed around the office with the newly-minted eyes of a retired person, trying to imprint the sight into her mind, trying to place these images into a long-term memory that she could pull out sometime in the future and cherish.
Had she started home yet for the last time?
Around noon I heard her car come into the driveway and enter the garage. Soon she was coming in the back door, her hands full with flowers, gifts and the final load of this-and-thats from 42 years at work. She described her last day to me, first with a catch in her throat as she described the raw emotions of the morning. As she recounted the events – the receipt of the flowers, a monetary gift from her supervisor, the many conversations of the morning – her voice cleared and the true joy of finally achieving retirement suddenly became evident to her. She had arrived at last.
We chatted on for an hour or so, recounting our mornings – her's being the much more eventful one, of course – then took a drive to take care of some errands and to grab a bite to eat at one of the local restaurants. The fresh spring air around us seemed lighter and more vibrant as we both realized that we had just embarked on a new journey, a trip paid for by us with our many years of toil.
It was now time for the payoff, time to look around and see the world as a new and different place, a wonderful place, a place where we could do what we wanted on a Tuesday or Thursday as well as on a Saturday. We could sleep in or get up early, be as energetic or as slothful as we wished. We could grab a suitcase and hit the road for a few days if the notion took us. We could take a class, learn yoga or pottery or how to speak Patagonian. We could volunteer at a charity. Hell, we could even take up skydiving!
And we were still mobile and not yet hampered by severe physical problems that would limit our adventures.
I could tell my wife was feeling much the same emotions as I. Our conversation wandered around the future, things we could do, places we could see, friends we could have fun with and more idle chit-chat of that sort.
But deep down it still was a bittersweet day for her, I knew, leaving the day-to-day certainties of her work, the people there, the comfortable rhythms of the nine-to-five, the Monday through Friday, the relaxation of knowing that you were an expert at what you did and what you did you did well.
I also knew she was beginning to understand that the downside of work – getting up so darn early in the morning, dressing as someone else required you to dress, doing work that could sometimes be long, tiring and boring – was over! All the rules, regulations and necessary behavior of the office was done!
Finito!
So now her last day at work is finished. The sun has gone down on her time at the office and her being defined as “an employee of AABBC Company”. Now she is retired, an independent contractor, footloose and open to whatever comes down the road. She can do or not do, be or not be, enjoy or not enjoy as she defines each of those things.
It was a bittersweet day, a tumultuous day, a day for emotions and tears, sorrow and smiles, farewells and I’ll-be-in-touchs. A day both sad and happy.
So welcome to my world, wife. May you find the happiness, the contentment and the joy you so richly deserve in the upcoming years.
