It turns out retirement is full of surprises. I knew it would be liberating, but I didn’t know it would be so revealing.
Like many women, my career was not a linear trajectory. In the early '80s, I was a newly minted “yuppie” — a Young Urban Professional. Who can forget those yuppie fashions? Think Melanie Griffith's Working Girl: pin-striped suits, bow ties, commuting sneakers and stylishly naked ambition. Perfect attire for my entry- level jobs in Manhattan. Women were breaking into business en masse — it was exciting.
My girlfriends and I talked shop nonstop. By the end of the decade, many corporations were relocating headquarters out of New York City. I was hired by one of them, as a credit manager for a Fortune 500 company — and lured to Cincinnati. My office community dominated my life, and fortunately they were a wonderful group, the most wonderful of whom I married. Here I faced my first career crisis: motherhood and how to balance work and family at a time when workplaces did not talk balance as a priority. So, it was a proud moment when men in white shirts and ties allowed me a trial three-day work schedule. Three years later, my twin sons’ sister was delivered — and so was my resignation.
My stay-at-home years, during which time our family moved to New Jersey, were equal parts exhilarating and exasperating. Many mothers know this story of guilt and contradiction of leaving the job to care for our families — adoring one’s children while missing the workplace (or vice versa). The workplace was changing too. These early 2000s found employers striving to be more attractive as well as provocative, instituting Casual Fridays, Ping-Pong tables, wine tastings and team-building retreats in woodsy locations.
So, in 2002, I pounced on a spot at community college in the continuing education division. In time I would become the director of lifelong learning. Among my roles was developing programs and courses for intellectually curious retirees. Thus began 20 years of my life that swiftly passed by.
These are the years my children and my career grew up.
After professional fulfillment, it’s no wonder retirement is such sweet sorrow. This I expected. I didn’t expect a whole new measure of intentions. No more procrastination protection. For years I vowed I was going to learn to cook — as soon as time permitted. Now that time permits, I’m still heating up frozen pizzas. Ditto my intention to style-up and improve my dull wardrobe. No pizzazz there yet. Small matters both, but proof that retirement is not yet producing the renaissance version of me I once imagined.