Thoughts from a Retirement Coach
By Mariella Vigneux, MBA, ACC
Certified Professional Coach
‘I’m never going to retire. Why should I? I love what I’m doing, I’m good at it, and I earn a very comfortable living as a result. I’d rather die in the traces, like a good sled dog, than retire.’
I hear people talk this way.
I also hear people say things like ‘I’ve been working for 45 years for this company. I’ve seen a lot of fellows retire. And I’ve seen many of them back a few months later, wandering the halls, grateful when an old colleague deigns to talk with them for a bit. They don’t know what to do with themselves. That will never be me. I can’t imagine retiring. I can’t conceive of waking up in the morning and not knowing what to do.’
In the first instance the person shows a passion for their work and is drawn to it because they both love it and are good at it. They take pride in the quality of their endeavours. I see no reason why they should retire.
In the second instance, I feel uneasy. This kind of response to retirement seems to be based more on fear and a lack of ability to see a different way of living.
Why do some stay on working because they love it and others stay on out of fear?
Working, heart-easy and content
Some people truly are happier working until they die. The phrase ‘die in the traces’ applies to them. This phrase, found in Jack London’s Call of the Wild, refers to sled dogs that died when removed from the work they loved:
“[Dave] pleaded with his eyes to remain there… [the men] talked of how a dog could break its heart through being denied the work that killed it, and recalled instances they had known, where dogs, too old for the toil, or injured, had died because they were cut out of the traces. Also, they held it a mercy, since Dave was to die anyway, that he should die in the traces, heart-easy and content.”
Maybe you’ve heard someone say something like this: ‘My work is completely satisfying. I get so caught up in it that I almost regret leaving to go home each night. My work takes me to Europe and the United States to consult with clients or to speak at conferences. The clients are sophisticated, the cases complex. I live for the thrust and parry of tricky litigation – it keeps my blood boiling. I hope never to retire.’
Either these people accidentally fell into work that suited their skills, temperament and interests, or they developed a love and a talent for it as they went along. The other possibility is that they know themselves well and searched, tried things on, discarded, and searched some more, until they created the perfect work for themselves. They would probably continue to work, even if they weren’t getting paid. To me, that’s as good a definition of retirement as any: doing what you love and being willing to do it for no pay.
Refusing to retire out of fear
Then there are those who hang on working because the thought of retirement paralyzes them with fear. They run hard at work, looking up every so often with a deep sense of unease, then put their heads back down and keep running. Retirement is a black hole, an unimaginable emptiness. This is perfectly understandable. Not only would they lose their identity, which is tightly linked to their profession, they also wouldn’t have any idea what else to do. They have never had time to build other pursuits. How can they take off one hat when there are no other hats to put on?
A friend was telling me on the weekend of a surgeon who kept working long after he should have retired. The quality of his work suffered, yet he stayed. (I wonder how many patients suffered along with him.)
Relying on external measures of success is another way of becoming trapped in a profession. Many people’s success-yardsticks measure size of salary, billing rate, hours billed, overtime worked, size of investment portfolio, number of houses, types of cars, number of vehicles, amount spent on vacations, and years of employment. If we measure success by external measures, or someone else’s measures, instead of understanding what fulfils us, retirement can look pretty bleak.
Pulling your arm out of the bucket
They say when you leave work it’s like pulling your arm out of a bucket of water: no one will notice you’re gone. Some people don’t believe that. They say that their knowledge of the field is immense, that the organization would be up the creek without them, and that the young people aren’t ready to take on their role. I’ve had people tell me that, essentially, the engine doesn’t start until they arrive in the morning, and they keep it humming long after they leave for the day. Is this true? Maybe. Either way, what happened to the notion of teamwork and valuing everyone’s contributions equally? And, while I believe we are unique, can we say we are indispensable?
Top predictor for adjusting to retirement
The single most important indicator for how well people will adjust in retirement is the conditions of exit from their career. This means having favourable conditions when leaving the workplace, such as having a choice in the timing and process, feeling prepared, and making an easy transition. It helps to have a plan, and maybe a backup plan in case your first plan is hijacked. Being thoughtful about when and how we hope to retire can reduce the period of disorientation once we’ve retired. And we can ward off depression, addiction, and other health issues.
Ask yourself the big questions: Who will I become, apart from my professional identity? What would really fulfil me? What will replace my daily routines when work does not dictate a clear direction? How do I ensure a happy, healthy and meaningful retirement, free from resistance, fear, and diminished self-esteem?
For those who never plan to retire, be aware that 40-50% of people retire for reasons outside their own control. If you plan to work forever, let it be because you love what you are doing. And, even then, be prepared to find other hats to wear, other sleds to pull, in the event that retirement creeps up on you unexpectedly.
I am one of those you describe in your final paragraph — couldn’t imagine being retired but forced into it by serious illness at age 59. Fortunately I have recovered from the illness and have been able to fulfill some of the ideas I had for retirement when I thought I would never do it! The illness and building a new life were difficult, but I’m living proof that it can be done, and can be satisfying on the other side.
About one in four people who retire do so for medical reasons. A heartening perspective you bring to them, Amy.
As far as I am concerned unless your health is not good retiring is simply laziness personified.
I could have retired at 50 (I’m 55) but why would I. Both my grandfathers worked into thro 80’s making a valuable contribution to society instead of being a leech on it.
Because they worked they stayed fitter than their retired counterparts and had a zest for life up until the day they died. Their retired friends did nothing but complain about life or moan about their various ailments.
Unfortunately the average human is lazy and looking for every opportunity to avoid work, which means that those of us who have a good work ethic have to carry their lazy butts and this includes into retirement.
Peter, you’re making a valuable point, and you’ve stated it strongly. Thanks for that. And let us not forget that over 40% of people who retire do so for reasons beyond their control. Most often that has to do with poor health or the need to provide care giving to their loved ones. Or layoffs, etc. Also, let’s give credit to the valuable contributions that retirees give to our world, without receiving remuneration.
Excellence can be a cruel taskmaster. Absorbing a sense of duty can be fatal. When you perform at a high level the steps of advancement are known and enstatiated in the codes of a chosen profession. When you advance you contribute to an organization and reap the rewards, accept the responsibility and authority to advance a profession.when you operate at peak performance, competitive performance, you test the limits of your ability but what happens when you exceed your ability? You can be broken, sometimes fatally. Sometimes when a person keeps their nose to the grindstone all they end up with is a flat face. Some say enough is enough others call them quitters but in the final analysis whose life is it? Yours or someone elses?
The nugget from your comment that I glean is that one accepts the responsibility to choose one’s level of performance, knows when enough is enough, and understands that this is one’s only “wild and precious” life. Thanks for your comment, Richard.
That may have been what Jack London meant by it, but among my grands and great-grandson, it meant working until you dropped, without ever a moments rest, much less a modern idea like a ‘vacation’. Only rich people get to have ‘vacations’. Everybody else dies in the traces, pulling the plow, the coal trolly, or the hay wagon.
Point taken! We need to recognize how privileged we are these days. Thanks for your comment, Cynthia.