At dinner recently, a friend introduced me to someone new by adding my occupation to my name.
I laughed and asked whether that was my defining characteristic. Apparently, it was simply to distinguish me from someone else with the same name. A perfectly reasonable explanation, which rather spoiled my opportunity to be philosophical about it.
Then I asked the person I’d just met what he did for a living.
Of course I did.
It’s an easy question, and since most of us spend a substantial part of our lives at work, it gives a conversation somewhere to start. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with asking, but I wondered what I was listening for. Was I curious about how he spent his days, or was some part of me quietly placing him on a social ladder?
I’d like to say it was entirely the former. I’m not sure I can.
Apparently, I also work nights
Work takes up quite enough of my waking life, but it has also decided to occupy my dreams. This happens almost every day, which I find deeply annoying. Sleep ought to be the one part of the day during which I’m reliably unavailable.
A friend who retired recently said this used to happen often too, though it had gradually become less frequent. That was reassuring, although I would prefer my subconscious to accept my resignation on the same date as my employer.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about whether my portfolio can support retirement, and rather less about how long it might take the rest of me to catch up. Leaving the job is an event; I’m beginning to suspect that feeling retired might take longer.
A little less urgency
Another retired friend mentioned being less bothered now when plans go wrong. Previously, a disruption had felt like something that needed to be fixed immediately, whereas now there was more room to accommodate it.
That stayed with me.
I tend to picture the benefits of retirement in terms of what I could do with the time, but perhaps some of the benefit is in how that time feels. A delay might still be inconvenient without feeling as though it has stolen a scarce piece of my life.
When free time has to fit around work, there can be quite a lot riding on it going well. I wonder whether having more of it would make me less protective of any particular afternoon.
I don’t expect retirement to make me endlessly patient. That would be asking quite a lot of a change in employment status. Still, I like the possibility of feeling less hurried, even when the day refuses to follow the itinerary.
What will I say instead?
I’m not offended by being introduced through my occupation. I’ve spent enough years doing it that it would be odd to pretend it says nothing about me, but as I get closer to leaving, I wonder how much I rely on it as a ready-made answer to who I am.
It saves me having to come up with anything more personal.
“Retired” would be another convenient label, though it wouldn’t tell someone much about me either. It describes what I’ve stopped doing, which leaves quite a lot of the introduction unfinished.
I don’t yet have a better one prepared. For now, I’d settle for work taking up a little less room in my head.
Starting with the night shift.