Yesterday was surreal. After about five weeks of paperwork and jumping through a succession of ever-changing hoops I finally successfully submitted all the paperwork to begin collecting my first of hopefully many monthly pension payments on July 1st. I’ll have to say the company managing my former company’s pension did not make the process an easy one. Whether the hurdles were just due to good old fashioned bureaucracy or if the process was intentionally difficult is anyone’s best guess. They had no idea of the determination of the person sitting on the other side of the computer screen.
I remember decades ago, still in the full vigor and misconceptions of my youth, sitting at a desk piled high with files. After a particularly challenging day of dealing with our sales team and clients I sat back, took a sip of strong Caribou coffee, and did the math in my head to determine exactly when I could start collecting my pension. The magic date was July 1, 2026, a month after I turned 55—if I took a 30% reduction in the payout. Mostly all of the financial advice I read said taking the pension earlier, if you could, was more advantageous. The obvious caveat was you could no longer work for the company to start collecting. I envisioned I'd either be bald or silver-haired when the day came. I hoped I still had at least a few of my marbles left.
At the time this far flung future date seemed like it was lifetimes away. I assumed I’d probably be working there well into my late sixties or early seventies anyway. I thought I’d be there at the desk, deflecting gossip, managing workplace meltdowns, and wishing my life away along with everyone else for at least another twenty years. By then house would be paid off and we possibly could afford to go on trip to some place exotic every few years. The universe (or the simulation) had other plans.
Yesterday, after the last form was notarized and submitted and the final video interview was done I shut down my laptop, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and a sip of strong coffee (somethings never change), and just basked in the moment for a while. It felt unreal and a little frightening just how quickly the years went. I started that company when I was twenty-four years old, left it when I was forty-six, and entered into a world of dreams and uncertainty.
Thinking back, if I were to have a chance to make the decision to hand in my notice all over again, there’s not a single thing I’d do differently apart from maybe taking the leap of faith earlier. But all things happen in their own time, when they’re meant to—I’m a believer in that now more than ever. Life unfolds as it’s meant to and sometimes it’s because of our plans and sometimes it’s in spite of them. If you would have told me life for the mid-50’s version of me would be as it is today I never would have believed you. If this physical life we’re living really is a simulation, and I’m more and more convinced that is the case, it’s a pretty entertaining one if you’re paying close attention.
What comes next? Who knows? I no longer try to predict. I do know the things that were once important to me no longer really are. Priorities have shifted away from many of the things that used to drive me—book sales, vying for the attention of readers, the next great opportunity. I guess I’m settling. I don’t care about impressions nearly as much. Freedom and the enjoyment of the years I have left are the most important things now, as well as allowing others around me the same opportunity. What I love most is the luxury of letting the day unfold as it’s meant to while I look for the many lessons the quiet and boisterous moments of living bring.
So, yes, in a few short months I’ll officially be a pensioner. As I sit here wrapping this blog up I’m a little overcome by the unpredictability of life, and also what a great gift that unpredictability is. I was so wrong about how the future would unfold and for that I couldn't be more thankful.
All for now. Thanks so much for reading.
