With apologies to T.S. Eliot, “This is the way my work life ends? Not with a bang, but with a whimper?” Sounds sad, huh? Well, it’s not! Read on. We spend much of our life working, forty-five years or so being a common number. We assume that life, in particular our work life, follows the pattern of a concerto, in which variations on a simple theme are repeated through the work, some in major keys and others in minor ones, some quiet and some thunderous, but all weaving together, building a whole from many little parts. As the work nears its end, a rondo hurries us toward a finale, a final, harmonious, crescendo that integrates everything you’ve ever done into a statement of purpose—this is why I’ve lived and worked—ending on a final, lithesome note. Well, I didn’t get my crescendo nor my final note. I’ve been doing contract consulting for a while and was expecting one final contract on which to end my mediocre and notably schizophrenic career. But a couple of days ago the contract fell through and I realized I was retired. No rondo, no crescendo, no final, sweet, sustained note—it just ended..., with a whimper. But I’m okay with it. Having changed jobs about fifteen times in my work life, I knew that there wouldn’t be a gold watch. Perhaps there’d be a final luncheon or afternoon cake and coffee in a break room in a little company somewhere, but there would be no cheering crowd to celebrate my contributions. I’ve spread my meager talents across many companies, military units, and college campuses, making few marks of significance anywhere but, I believe, making a small difference everywhere I’ve been. I believe that, whether anyone one else does or not, and that’s what’s important. So I leave with a peaceful whimper, or better, a sigh—is that all there is? Frankly, I’m glad I didn’t have to shake hands with co-workers one last time and pretend that I’m sorry to leave. I’m honestly ecstatic about retirement. It’s the next and, I expect, most exciting chapter of what I hope to be a very long life. Goodbye work world, hello life! Alan

With apologies to T.S. Eliot, “This is the way my work life ends? Not with a bang, but with a whimper?” Sounds sad, huh? Well, it’s not! Read on.

We spend much of our life working, forty-five years or so being a common number. We assume that life, in particular our work life, follows the pattern of a concerto, in which variations on a simple theme are repeated through the work, some in major keys and others in minor ones, some quiet and some thunderous, but all weaving together, building a whole from many little parts. As the work nears its end, a rondo hurries us toward a finale, a final, harmonious, crescendo that integrates everything you’ve ever done into a statement of purpose—this is why I’ve lived and worked—ending on a final, lithesome note.

Well, I didn’t get my crescendo nor my final note. I’ve been doing contract consulting for a while and was expecting one final contract on which to end my mediocre and notably schizophrenic career. But a couple of days ago the contract fell through and I realized I was retired. No rondo, no crescendo, no final, sweet, sustained note—it just ended..., with a whimper.

But I’m okay with it. Having changed jobs about fifteen times in my work life, I knew that there wouldn’t be a gold watch. Perhaps there’d be a final luncheon or afternoon cake and coffee in a break room in a little company somewhere, but there would be no cheering crowd to celebrate my contributions. I’ve spread my meager talents across many companies, military units, and college campuses, making few marks of significance anywhere but, I believe, making a small difference everywhere I’ve been. I believe that, whether anyone one else does or not, and that’s what’s important.

So I leave with a peaceful whimper, or better, a sigh—is that all there is? Frankly, I’m glad I didn’t have to shake hands with co-workers one last time and pretend that I’m sorry to leave. I’m honestly ecstatic about retirement. It’s the next and, I expect, most exciting chapter of what I hope to be a very long life. Goodbye work world, hello life!

Alan