Retired Man Walking: Too Young to Retire, Too Old to Take Shit

A while back I ran into a friend and fellow professional employed by the State of California, and he offered me his perspective on State employment as a tail-end Baby Boomer like myself -- someone who can't retire because he lacks the requisite age or years of service, but, unlike myself, is tired of taking shit from superiors who don't know what to do with you.

Although my friend gave his permission for me to use his name in this blog entry, I decline to do so because what he does is so specialized that it would not be hard for anyone to identify him as one of the few African American men, if not the only African-American man, in California state civil service who does what he does. For purposes of this blog entry, I will refer to him as he now refers to himself:  Retired Man Walking.

Retired Man Walking, or RMW, has an interesting philosophy he applies to working for the State as a professional who isn't old enough to retire but has been around long enough to know the score.  Like many state workers of his age, race, and qualifications, he encounters roadblocks to advancement because the State of California doesn't reward intelligence, achievement, innovation or efficiency among its rank and file employees; oh no, the only thing the State of California rewards is seniority.  You could die waiting for the few spots above you in the hierarchy to open up when someone retires or, well, dies, no matter how stellar you might be.

Like many other African-American professionals in state civil service, he encounters "intelligence racism":  The cognitive dissonance experienced by whites and sometimes people of other races when they simply cannot believe the intelligent words and ideas coming from your African-American mouth are, well, coming from your African-American mouth.  Because they cannot reconcile your race with your intelligence, which is oftentimes superior to theirs, they endeavor to disprove your intelligence or undermine you in some other way as undeserving of what little stature you have.

At the other end of the spectrum, RMW, like many other African-American professionals in state civil service, also experiences being a financially pimped out professional by the State enjoying the benefit of his college and graduate education without paying you enough to cover the burden of the student loans necessary to pay for that college and graduate education.  Too Short ain't got nothin' on the State of California when it comes to pimpin' professionals.

However, RMW has adopted a philosophy I found so intriguing that I felt compelled to share it with you.  He's adopted a policy of not allowing himself to be stressed out by the intelligence racism, lack of upward mobility and the like, and here's why:

He wants to live long after he retires.

RMW noted how many people retire only to die shortly after, oftentimes from diseases that are stress-related, like heart disease, stroke, cancer and the like.  As he puts it, "How you live the 25 years before you retire will determine whether and how you live the 25 years after you retire."  RMW is determined to not let workplace stress cause him to develop diseases that will cheat him out of a long and healthy retirement.

As a result, he has declared himself to be "Retired Man Walking."  He simply does not care anymore.  As he put it, "I have two speeds at work -- slow and stop."  He's not trying to prove anything, impress anyone, or race to get things done.  He takes full advantage of alternate work schedules, vacation days, and breaks during the day.  It's just not worth it to him to get stressed out in the last years before retirement.  He has "retired in place."

As for upward mobility and the lack thereof, he likens them to the ephemeral traffic jam on I-80 west going from Sacramento toward San Francisco.  "Notice how the traffic always backs up around Berkeley and Emeryville?  Did you ever notice how there's no traffic over there by the Berkeley Marina, and if you get off near the marina and go around, you can get back on 80 and beat the traffic?  Upward mobility in the State is like that -- sometimes you have to get off and go around to move up."

Very wise, indeed.

Here's to a long and healthy retirement, RMW.

Baby Boomers Are Asking Themselves, "What The Hell Am I Doing Here?"

I'm at the tail end of the Baby Boom and am ineligible for retirement under my retirement system.  I've had to sit back and watch those at the head of the Baby Boom make the decision whether to continue working or retire.  Sometimes that decision comes down to finances, sometimes it comes down to health.  For those who have the finances to retire and the health to enjoy it, I am increasingly seeing them ask themselves this question about their workplace:

What the hell am I doing here?

From what I've observed, this question is triggered in older Baby Boomers when workplace conditions become more onerous (like a bad boss), the pay becomes less (like furloughs), or they see someone in their age cohort with the same number or fewer years of service retire.  It's as if they see a proverbial clock of their lifespan on the wall inching toward midnight, and parts of their lives outside the workplace become a powerful counterweight against remaining in the workplace.

Like grandchildren.  Or a retired spouse.  Or an ailing parent.  Or just longing to do something more meaningful.

I've mentioned before that I have two siblings who are retiring this year.  One will have 40 years' worth of state civil service, the other over 30.  One is planning on going back to school and becoming a travel agent.  The other is weighing his options, I think.

I can't retire, but I, too, feel the tug of other countervailing considerations in my life.  We all go through different life stages, and different things matter more to us at different stages of our lives. Whereas most people my age have children who are leaving or have left the nest, I'm preparing to begin parenthood.  I now realize that I don't want to spend a boatload of time at the office.  I don't want to be the "go-to" person.  I don't want to bring work home and I don't want to discuss work at home when I have my family in place.  I want to be able to come home in time to fix dinner and sit down with my family and eat.  Yes, fix family dinners.  Feminists fix dinner, too.  I totally get the "What the hell am I doing here?" question that older Baby Boomers are asking themselves.

Once the "What the hell am I doing here?" question is asked by older Baby Boomers, their spirits demand an answer.  I've seen older Baby Boomers start to do the math -- figuring out how much they will draw in retirement, how much they can live on, the amount of Social Security they will get at 62 versus 65, whether they can downsize their home or if they will be doing something else after retirement to supplement their incomes.  When all the right factors align to give them the answer they want or can live with, they pull the retirement ripcord and parachute out of the workplace.  I am in awe of each and every one of them, especially those who slogged through soul-sucking jobs for years on end.  I'm in awe not because they retired, but because they had the courage to ask themselves, "What the hell am I doing here?".

Rock on, Baby Boomer retirees.  Rock on.