By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi
This past July a weighty packet arrived. Peering at the return address, it revealed my university’s logo from Human Resources [HR]. Dire thoughts raced through my mind: Could it be I was losing my job? Would it disclose abruptly reduced health benefits? Had a mailing error occurred? I plucked up my courage and with trepidation, opened the oversized envelope.
I was being offered an “early retirement incentive” package.
As I waded through the 30-odd pages of the “incentive”, I harkened back to the feeling I had when an autumn day’s mail congratulated me and welcomed me to AARP. I panicked; “I’m not old enough,” I cried. Apparently AARP thought otherwise. A blue funk came over me. My world tilted. Each time that outfit sends me correspondence; I shred it without reading it. Frankly, I don’t give two hoots and a holler about some celebrity on the cover rhapsodizing about how grand 50/60/70+ is, pontificating about how these are the best years. I assume they are all sitting pretty in the Cat Bird seat with their millions and their air-brushed faces [Botoxed, lifted, and stretched to the max]. For those of us living in the real world, early retirement is not a viable option.
Nevertheless, I sent my financial advisor the early retirement incentive paraphernalia to review. He phoned me and said, “No!” He asked me if I wanted to retire early, if I was miserable in my work, if there existed a medical need. “No,” I responded. With the sluggish economy, my daughter in law school, and the satisfaction I still derive [on most days] from my work, he advised against grabbing the offer. I felt relieved. To quote Melville’s “Bartleby, the Scrivener”, I would prefer not to.
Ciao for now.