First chapter of "What, Me Retire?"
(Covid-19 has forced many people to retire and, as expressed in their social media posts, home 24/7 is such a lonely place. Perhaps by sharing my own retirement story, they can find humor in their change of pace, and may even discover that retirement is a blessing in disguise.)
Scene 4: A New Life Beckons
More changes made me feel like Methuselah, but the barnacle that I had become wouldn't budge. By this time, it had been two years since Tin Man entered the scene. Inasmuch as my working hours were now my free time, I took seriously what two of my young writers had been badgering me about: Join the Palanca Awards. I dredged up an old idea from my writing chest and worked on a short story for children. I felt like I resurrected from the grave, writing all day and night, and couldn't stop.
Then the coup the grace—my Palanca entry won, first prize.
There is life after advertising, I mused, and began to think that being a barnacle minus Mses. Ego, Authority, Courage, Stature, Spunk, Guts, and Passion for almost two years was worse than being retired, or dead.
Just in time, a big news came.
Tin Man summoned the remaining VPs (the three whose scribbles were enshrined in my little notebook had left) to a meeting and dropped a bombshell: The company was splitting with its partner and there were talks of new mergers. “Since the retirement age has been officially reduced to 50, you are all more than qualified to leave. I am asking you all to take advantage of a retirement package by the end of this year.” Uh-oh.
The rumor mill started grinding. “Grace, we heard you're retiring.”
“Who told you?”
“The boss!”
I felt like Margarito-Mosley-Marquez-all-in-one, after being pummeled by Pacman. So I threw in the towel and cried, Uncle!
HR computed my unused vacations leaves accumulated over the years: Four months! It was the middle of August, exactly four months till the prescribed retirement day at year-end.
I pasted on my face a big smile for Tin Man, “I'd like to push my retirement date to April next year. I wish to attend the Christmas Party, to end my career with a carol!”
Tin Man didn't even blink: “I am sorry, Grace, but the retirement package specifies 'out by December 31.'”
That means . . . if I take my leaves, I’d have to go . . . TODAY?! I asked myself.
It would have been the perfect time to tear his ear off about the changes, but he had no ears, and I had nothing left of me. Ms. Chong, where have you gone?
That night I wrote my resignation letter: short and sweet. It confirmed my retirement at year-end, and my going on leave starting TODAY. It was as though someone who possessed nothing of my persona wrote it for me. There were no official files to attach, Tin Man already had taken them all.
He might have been on his way to see the Wizard of Oz the next day, so I left my letter with his secretary. Then I waited till most of the people in my department had left for client calls and TV shoots before I invited the few who were at their desks to my office.
“I have decided to retire,” I intoned.
“When?”
“End of the year. But today is my last day.”
You could hear a pin drop. After I had blubbered my “thank yous,” they clinkity-clanked out of my room—like miniature Tin Men.
It was 2 o'clock PM; I left everything as-is-where-is in my room, ran out to the parking lot, and told my driver (rather, the company driver assigned to me) to bring me home for good.
The End
Cast of characters scroll up.
That done, the last frame—a slogan—pops up on screen:
"Retire from work, but not from life." – Dr. M.K. Soni, Homeopathic physician
Links:
Uh-oh! #1
Uh-oh! #2
Uh-oh! #3
Uh-oh! #4
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