No matter how many times I changed careers, “my job” was a big part of me, until suddenly it wasn’t.

I found out the hard way.

I was trying to write a cover letter to find yet another “newish” career. My current spot is running out of funding.

“You don’t have to make money,” the wife said. “But I’m not leaving the house with you lying in bed with that dog, only to come home and find the two of you snuggling on the couch.”

Valid point. This is my favorite way to spend a day.

I promised her I would find “something to do.”

But then came that fucking cover letter. It tried to type out:

  • “I’ve excited about this opportunity
  • I’m a great fit for your organization.
  • I want to leverage my skills to reach your goals”

I just couldn’t stomach my own bullshit. I used to be able to say those things right in someone’s face without a wink or a hint that I might be lying. Because I wasn’t. I was a believer.

Now I can’t even make my fingers click out the words. I can’t even bring myself to have ChatGPT type it for me.

I’ve been a journalist, teacher, instructional designer, manager, product manager, operations director, research director and a few other things. I’ve always been able to look at any organization and figure out how to plug myself in. Always willing to pursue some greater good — even if that good was just making money for all of us.

Now I can’t picture myself working toward what someone else wants to do. I’m so deeply embedded in my own “stuff,” I can’t put up with anyone else’s “shit” (shout out to George Carlin).

45 years of labor

I’ve been working more or less constantly since I started bagging groceries in 1977 — except for a few years in college when I didn’t work, and I didn’t really go to college. I wish I could say I got addicted to drugs, but I was too lazy to even look for someone who deals weed.

I paid for that shit later when I met the wife (at work). Getting to stay with her meant working full time and taking a full load. No sleep till graduation.

Then it was jump on the job train. Working overtime to reach someone else’s goals. First one in, last one out of the office. Taking my computer on every trip to check in or finish a project without interruption. Did that shit for 35 years.

Five years ago I could barely have a conversation with someone unless it involved work. What I did, what they did…

Now I really don’t give a shit.

Why? Because I don’t have to.

I worked 20 years for the state — first as a teacher and then later as a manager at a university. I have a defined-benefit pension. A guaranteed monthly check that amounts to 40-percent of my highest salary.

The wife has the same plan. She “retired” after 30 years. Then went back to work. Making more than ever, and banking a bunch of it.

I’ve been doing the same for 3 years. A good chunk of my career was in the private sector – so I built up some 401k’s since the 1980’s and hit my 40 quarters for social security. Between it all, we will have more income in retirement than we have had for the past 3 years. (And we have enough savings to cover most disasters like Alzheimer’s or cancer).

I never thought I was motivated by money. I never picked the highest paying careers or tried to squeeze every employer for every dime I could get. Turns out I was wrong. I was in it for the money.

I should have squeezed those bastards when I could.

Retirement plan

I know that we are damn lucky to be one of the few who still has a defined-benefit retirement. If we had to live off our 401k’s, we would be screwed.

But I don’t feel bad. We made some tough choices long ago. We got paid like teachers. Arizona for most of our careers was between 47th and 50th in states with lowest paid teachers. Most of our friends made twice as much money as we did.

We only had 1 kid. Those little shits are spendy.

We didn’t travel much. We never bought the “big” house. We paid down our mortgage in less than 20 years. We didn’t buy boats, or fancy cars or high end electronics. We collect nothing.

Hell, we didn’t even have a dog for 10 years because we thought it was too expensive. Then we got one and found out — we were right. (God damn Carol Baskins $80 for a bath and a nail clip?).

We followed through on the retirement plan even when the shit hit the fan. About 5 years ago, I probably could have jumped to a new career for more money, but I stayed in a bad situation for two years to get the 20-year pension. Don’t worry things got better when I switched jobs in 2021.

Don’t be jealous — vote

I also don’t feel bad because everyone should have a defined-benefit plan.

Businesses that say it’s too expensive are full of shit. They have money to buy back their stocks and pay their CEO’s more than a 1000 times what they pay a regular employee. They couldn’t “afford it” only after corporate raiders, private equity and corporate executives blew through the retirement plans to squeeze all the cash out of old companies.

They can fund a retirement plan. Even small businesses could make the cost if all their competition had to make the same payments. It’s like the minimum wage — if they all have to pay it, they can all afford it.

Politicians who say Social Security is bankrupt are also full of shit. They have been saying that since I started working (during the Carter Administration). For a long time, I believed that it would not be available. But it is and it will be. Especially as the number of retirees dies off, and we find out how many migrants paid into the system but will never be able to collect.

We will need to start taxing high income earners more (remove the cap) and tax people who “don’t have an income” because they make all their money on interest and investments (trust fund babies). But we have done those kinds of things before, and we will do them again when all the retirees (who vote like crazy) realize it’s their lives at stake.

One final shout out on the retirement plan. It would not have been possible this early without Obamacare. The ACA has dropped costs and removed pre-existing conditions, so I can actually get my own insurance. Without it, I’d be a healthcare slave and have to work full time (just to get coverage at any price) until medicare kicks in.

Once I figured out I could stop working and we would be OK — it make it nearly impossible to look for yet another job.

The wife wants to keep working, she can’t picture herself “doing nothing.” I can only think about “doing nothing” — and it feels so good.