While at a meeting today a coworker advised me he was retiring next year. “Have you worked here thirty years?” I asked. “Nope. I’m going at twenty,” he smuggly replied.
“Twenty? Really? Do you have to buy any years or anything?” I asked with great interest. “Nothing. I’m just done in twenty,” he told me. “Hmmm. I may have to try that.”
When I returned to the office I sent HR a quick email. “May I please retire at twenty years instead of thirty? Thank you.” I then preceded to make my pre-retirement plans. Long lunches, shorter worker days, afternoon naps – I wanted to be sure to have a smooth transition into retirement.
Several hours later, HR sent me a response, “No, you cannot retire at twenty years. You have to be at least 60 to do that.” They then provided me a slew of formulas to calculate my retirement.
“I can’t believe this,” I said to myself as I put the AARP application in the recycle bin. I then continued to talk myself – I can do that, because I’m pre-retirement. “Seriously, this sucks. I qualify for Belly Dancing for Boomers and Computer Classes for Seniors, but I can’t retire. Unbelievable.”
Then, I woke up from my daydream, retracted my “YCKMYA,” aka “You Can Kiss My White/Wide Ass” email, shortened my lunch and refilled my coffee cup. It was very clear that I have, at a minimum, another 5 hours, 16 days and 15 years before I can retire.