Some time ago, I stepped away from the workforce, wondering what my new life would look like. In the final months before I formally retired—I had retired emotionally about a year ago—I was often asked, “So, what are you going to do?”
At first, I answered somewhat honestly and factually. I’d mention climbing a mountain, or writing another book, possibly making more games, depending on who I was talking to. When I had answered the question too many times in the same day, I’d vary the answer a bit- “I’m thinking of getting a full sleeve tattoo. Of all your faces.” Or, “Thinking about home-brewing tequila.” Mostly I’d say that I’d just be doing everything I was interested in outside of work before I retired, except in the middle of the day. Studying geology, or playing guitar, managing houses on two continents.
Going into retirement, I think people worry that not working leaves a gap in your life, an omission. I’ve found that’s true. There is a void, just not the one I expected.
I have lived preoccupied with my job, my team and the work we did close to 24/7 for more than three decades. The absence I found is not one of purpose or focus, but of preoccupation. In action movies, sometimes there are characters possessed by otherworldly beings, their own schizophrenia, mummy Pharaohs, or whatever. Working life was like being the Green Goblin- all the time—and I don’t miss it. Below is my far-from-categoric list.
Things I No Longer Think About:
- One Names: I didn’t realize how much time I spent talking about people (not family members) using just their first names. Scott, Adam, Julie, Aron, Dave, John, whoever. I spent hours talking with other people about what they thought, had done, or would do. They spent no time whatsoever thinking about me, and they didn’t talk about me as Chris.
- Financial Results: that I had no way of affecting. There was a big narrative running about how everyone made a difference, but in truth we had as much impact on the course of our corporate ship as did the rats in the bilge of the Titanic.
- The Team: I worked with wonderful people. I also probably worked on more than 20 different teams. Some were a family (at best), others fellow riders on a runaway subway car on fire (at worst). But I talked and thought about their work lives a lot. Suddenly, there is silence where all those internal monologues used to be.
- The Business: Which was what, exactly? A Borg-like collective? An oracle that spoke in financial data? The Wizard of Oz? An entity spoken of only in hushed tones—“We should ask The Business. I shall bring a goat and a sheaf of wheat and ascend the mountain to the sacred stone.”
- Deadlines: Don’t have any. Don’t feel like doing something, I’ll do it tomorrow. Or double down and take a nap.
- Intravenous Coffee: Folks that used to work with me know I had a decades-long love-hate-love abusive relationship with espresso. I did that because it’d be 4 pm on a Thursday and there was a meeting in which I was presenting or expected to provide a thought or two. But no more. No more input, insight, takes, 2 cents, feedback, vetting, innovation or inspiration in the late afternoon—thus, no coffee. See nap, above.
Things I Notice Now:
- The People I Love-Completely: When I listen to them now, I can pay absolute attention. Not forcing a narrow tunnel through the distractions of the moment, just fully there. It’s a gift.
- The World: The physical world around us is a deep-oceaned, windswept marvel, an inexplicably complex tapestry of energy, living things interdepending and a gloriously chaotic ballet of stone, water, entropy and order, illuminated by a fusion-powered behemoth pouring out light and heat into the black, cold universe. Thanks, Sun.
- Time: It seems to flow at steadier pace…like there is simultaneously both less and more of it.
- Focus: If I want to spend two hours adjusting a malfunctioning cabinet hinge, I can. When I am done it might actually work for a while, since I didn’t need to jump on a call.
I do miss the conversations I shared with my teammates, hearing about the interesting things they did outside of work, their families and travels. I also miss the beautiful sarcastic workplace humor— “Seriously? They did what? You can’t make this shit up…” flowing from the muddy wide delta of The Business, leading to late afternoon sarcastic joking and wild flights of invention, of how we’d create a Non-Reaction Team, or should provide tranquilizers in bowls by the coffee machines. We had to stay sane somehow.
But mostly, it’s really quiet and peaceful, like someone had been running a noisy gas-powered intellectual and spiritual generator pulling power out of me, for 30 years, then turned it off. Meaning and purpose I have always had, but now I have the gift of the time and space to actually enjoy and follow them where they might lead.
Limited Time Only 