I'm Okay - Are you Okay?

The Unexpected Curves of Retirement: From Boardroom to... Well, What Exactly? 

I’m okay - are you okay?  A look backwards.

After 30+ fun and rewarding (mostly!) years of working retirement hit me like a perfectly aimed…. Well, not a tennis ball anymore (more on that later!), but definitely something unexpected. When I say nudged, it was something that had been brewing for a number of years.  Although we were profitable, it would seem that it was never enough.

 The never-ending "increase your EBIT!" chant – a financial voodoo spell that baffled the masses – was the company's broken record. For ages, the higher-ups were whispering about shake-ups (and I had my ear to the keyhole!). Turns out, sticking around forever, while noble, can also make you feel like a dusty museum piece. My chats with the young guns hinted that my old-school wisdom wasn't exactly the hot new gadget anymore.   

As the year drew to a close, the writing was on the wall – and apparently, my name wasn't on the guest list. So, ever the proactive type, I tapped my boss (a genuinely decent chap) and essentially said, "If the axe is swinging, point it this way!" Sure enough, a few days later, the "movie scene" unfolded. One minute you're shaking hands and hearing about your stellar contributions (cue the swelling soundtrack!), the next you're ushered into a different room, sans boss, and presented with the "golden parachute." You can pepper HR with "whys" and "hows," but it's like asking a mime for directions – you'll get gestures, not answers. And let's be real, the initial offer is rarely their mic-drop moment, so prepare for a delightful sequel of back-and-forth negotiations. Seriously? But hey, Canada's got our backs with decent severance, so the gist was: "Go chill at home, and we'll keep the paychecks rolling until retirement is practically knocking on your door." Which begs the question... who wouldn't raise their hand for getting paid to embrace their inner couch potato?

Oh boy, are you ever going to be shell-shocked! Trust me, getting pushed out the door is a whole different beast than strolling out on your own terms – even if you both end up in the same comfy retirement chair. But listen up, no pity parties allowed! You gotta ditch the "why me?" routine and the simmering rage. That's just a hamster wheel of misery, and guess what? You're the only one who can kick yourself off. Time to move on, buttercup!

I envisioned leisurely mornings, endless battles on the tennis court, and finally mastering the art of the perfect bolognese sauce. Turns out, the retirement game has its own set of quirky rules.

Who knew that I was going to be trading the daily grind for... well, a global pandemic. Those shiny new slippers and that guidebook for the Amalfi Coast suddenly felt less exciting under lockdown. Turns out, "freedom" can feel a lot like house arrest when the world outside is playing germ warfare. So much for those celebratory farewell lunches – more like solo microwave dinners. Who knew the biggest retirement challenge would be figuring out how to video call your friends without accidentally muting yourself?  Or where can I get that latest vaccine?  Don’t forget to wear your mask and please stay away from me.   

One of the first surprises was the slow-motion vanishing act of my work friendships. For decades, these were my people! We would strategize over spreadsheets, celebrate quarterly wins with drinks on the company, and we knew exactly how each other liked their coffee. Retirement, though, is like hitting the mute button on that daily sitcom. Suddenly, the water cooler gossip is a distant memory, and those hilarious email chains have gone silent. It’s a bit like your favorite band breaking up – you still have the memories, but the jam sessions are over. Keeping in touch requires actual effort now, like scheduling a playdate. Who knew adult friendships needed appointments? 

Okay, folks, let's talk about something even more thrilling than figuring out pickleball rules: the legendary, mythical creature known as "work-life balance." We've all heard whispers of it, seen its blurry image on inspirational posters, but what is it really? Is it like finding a unicorn riding a bicycle while singing opera? Not quite, but sometimes it feels that way.

Think of your life as a grand circus. Work is the ringmaster with the whip, demanding your attention (and maybe even your soul). Life, on the other hand, is the clown juggling flaming torches while riding a unicycle. Now, imagine trying to keep both of those acts running smoothly at the same time. That's work-life balance!

For years, I was so busy being the ringmaster's star performer that I forgot the clown was even there. Spreadsheet after spreadsheet, meeting after meeting, I was practically living in my office. Don't get me wrong, I loved (most of) it, but it was like eating pizza every day. Sure, pizza is fantastic, but after a while, you start craving… I don’t know… a salad? Or maybe just a good nap.

Ignoring the "life" side of things can lead to some… interesting results. Imagine a tightrope walker who only practices walking forward. What happens when they need to turn around? They fall, folks! Similarly, if you only focus on work, you might find yourself face-planting into a pile of "What am I doing with my life?" questions.

There are some obvious signs that you might be doing more tightrope walking on the “work” end than on the “life” end.  You dream in spreadsheets or your idea of fun is to catch up in emails.

There is a payoff to getting off that #7 trains going nowhere.

So go ahead, step off the tightrope for a bit. Let the clown have the spotlight. You might be surprised at how much fun you'll have and I will get back to my pizza and plan where to find the best gelato in town.

On the plus side, no more frantic 11 PM emails demanding explanations for that pesky sales target? Seriously? It's like they thought staring at last month's numbers would magically make this month's better. Maybe it rained for a solid month (thanks, Mother Nature!), or perhaps the economy decided to take an unscheduled vacation in the Bahamas. And let's not forget those "urgent" meetings conveniently scheduled while I was attempting my own escape to sunnier shores. Ah yes, the classic "surprise! we downsized, and now you're doing three jobs for the price of one... isn't that exciting?" My enthusiasm, as you can imagine, was boundless.

Then there’s the thrilling rollercoaster of retirement finances. One minute you’re feeling like a savvy investor, the next you’re questioning every avocado toast purchase. It’s a whole new level of budgeting anxiety, trading sales targets for spreadsheet scrutiny. Will the nest egg hatch golden geese or just… more bills? The suspense is real!

And let's not forget the sudden abundance of… time. Remember those days you wished for an extra hour? Well, retirement hands you a whole blank calendar and dares you to fill it. It’s like being given a giant Lego set with no instructions. Do I build a magnificent castle of hobbies? Finally learn to play the ukulele? Or just become a professional napper?  I know - I will start a blog and write about pizza. The possibilities are endless and slightly overwhelming.

Now, about that tennis. Retirement was supposed to be my golden age of smashing winners. Then, my shoulder decided to stage a dramatic exit with a starring role in a surgical theater. Suddenly, my dominant arm felt less like a finely tuned sports instrument and more like a rebellious teenager refusing to cooperate. Simple tasks became an exercise in creative maneuvering. Opening a jar? Think of an elaborate pulley system. Buttoning a shirt? Prepare for a wrestling match.  Washing your hair or simply taking care of yourself?  Forget about it.

The frustration of not being able to play tennis was real. It wasn't just about the exercise - I also missed my tennis buddies, the crew I’d battled and bantered with for years at the club. We shared epic matches and even more epic post-game coffees. Retirement and the sidelined shoulder created a gap. While some checked in, the rhythm of our connection changed. It’s like being a retired superhero – you still remember the glory days, but your cape is gathering dust.

Enter… well, a different kind of racquet sport. Let’s just say it involves a smaller court, a funny-sounding plastic ball, and a surprising amount of strategy. It’s been… an experience. A way to get back in the game, sort of, without requiring the full-throttle action of tennis. The learning curve has been steep, filled with more than a few awkward paddles and questionable shots. But hey, at least I'm out there, making new connections and occasionally hitting something that resembles a winning shot.

The point is, retirement isn't the endless vacation brochure we might have imagined. It’s a whole new ballgame (pun intended!), filled with unexpected challenges and a healthy dose of humor if you look for it. There will be moments of missing the old routines and friendships, maybe even a

twinge of anger about how things ended. But eventually, you start to find your footing on this new, slightly wobbly playing field. You discover new passions (even if they involve funny-sounding plastic balls), forge new connections, and learn to navigate the unexpected curves with a bit more grace and a lot more laughter. It’s not always the game you planned to play, but hey, at least you’re still in the game!

And as I said - I’m okay.  Are you okay?