Reflections on careers--my husband's and my own

I remember the first time I traveled abroad; it was in August 1987. I attended a flow cytometry conference in Cambridge, England, and had planned my trip such that I had a few days to myself in London before I made my way north to Cambridge by train. I've written about this trip before, so I won't retell the story. Suffice it to say that I met some really wonderful people who made me feel right at home in England, and I'll never forget them. 

The Society for Analytical Cytology (SAC)--that was the organization responsible for the conference. It is now known as the International Society for Advancement of Cytometry (ISAC), even though it was always an international conference from day one. When I started working in the Investigative Cytology lab at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in 1982, I had the privilege of working with some of the founding fathers of flow cytometry/flow cytometric techniques--Myron Melamed, Zbigniew Darzynkiewicz, Frank Traganos, and Don Evenson. I knew already then that I was in the presence of scientific visionaries; men who were ambitious and generous with their expertise and time. Their lab was a dynamic place; inspiring and progressive. There was room to grow, and I did, under their tutelage. Their generosity extended to allowing all lab members to travel to relevant conferences, and that's how I ended up in Cambridge, England. 

After I arrived in Cambridge and settled in (a simple dorm room with a bed, desk, closet and chair), I found my way to the conference hall for the introductory lecture and presentation of the conference schedule. I sat alone in the auditorium, but after some time a woman entered and went to the podium area to check on the microphones. I have never forgotten her because she had dark hair with a large gray streak; her name was Donna Arndt-Jovin. From what I heard at a later time point, she was an American who had married a German scientist, Tom Jovin, and they lived in Germany. When I heard more about her life, I thought it was so interesting that she had married a fellow scientist and that they shared a passion for flow cytometry. This was before I met my husband, so I had no idea of what was to transpire in the coming years. The only thing I knew was that I liked the fact that they were professional equals. It appealed to me, to be able to share your work life with your spouse. 

My husband retired yesterday, and his department (Radiation Biology) gave him a very nice sendoff--an afternoon gathering with cakes, coffee, and speeches about his 44-year long career and what he has meant to his department. He is one of a rare breed of employees that remained at the same workplace for his entire career, of course in different positions. He started as a Master student, got his PhD in biophysics, did a postdoc, and then was hired as a full-time cancer researcher. He eventually became a research group leader but also leader of the flow cytometry core facility. I met him in 1987 in Cambridge, when he came over to and sat down at our table in one of the pubs my lab colleagues and I frequented. I believe it was the pub where Watson and Crick (of DNA helix structure fame) met and discussed their findings. He and I hit it off, and the rest as they say is history. 

I reflected on all of this yesterday when I listened to the talks and saw the slides that rotated continually throughout the afternoon. Some of them were of him and me, together at conferences. We looked so young in some of them; so strange to think that we are now at retirement age. We attended nearly every flow cytometry conference that SAC and ISAC arranged, which meant that we got to travel to some interesting places, among them: Hilton Head Island, SC; Cambridge, England; Breckenridge, CO; Asheville, NC; Bergen, Norway; Colorado Springs, CO; Lake Placid, NY; Montpellier, France (twice); Budapest, Hungary; Leipzig, Germany. The Norwegian Cancer Society was always generous enough to pay for these conferences; the professional and social (networking) gains were worth the money. Even though I moved to Norway after I met my husband, I kept in touch with my former colleagues via these meetings, and of course via Christmas cards and eventually emails. It always felt like a small world--this network of cytometrists. We all knew each other, and it was always enjoyable to meet again at conferences. 

I retired in August 2021, and now my husband is retired. We were both cancer researchers (my PhD is in tumor cell biology) and flow cytometrists. I realized yesterday that my first thought at my first conference in Cambridge--that it would be nice to have a spouse who shared my work interests--in fact became a reality. I hadn't really reflected fully on that until yesterday when I saw the photos of us together. During the past thirty years, we've collaborated on a number of research projects, and I must say that those times were fun times; not only enjoyable in terms of both our research teams working together and getting to know each other, but also the professional enjoyment connected to a job well-done (published papers and presentations at meetings). I'm thankful for the past thirty years, that we made that happen. We chose that path, despite the occasional difficulties and differences of opinion. It was worth it. 

When I retired, I was happy to leave my workplace behind. I had been ready to do so for several years prior. I too was given a nice sendoff by my department, and I left knowing that I had done the best job I could do under the circumstances (very little research support and reduced staff). However, I do feel that he was valued in a more concrete way by his department than I was by mine; he had firmer support from research leadership than I did. I stay in touch with former colleagues; we meet for dinner a few times a year, and in the summertime, I invite them to a garden party. I hope for my husband that he stays in touch with some of his colleagues, who became friends over the years. They will miss him, that I know, because he, like my former bosses at Memorial, was very knowledgeable and generous with his expertise and time. 

Realizations

I don't view retirement as the end of something, but rather as the beginning of something else--a new adventure. I like where it is leading me. I am rediscovering parts of myself that I loved when I was a teenager and young adult. Interests that have been suppressed because there was little to no time to pursue them. 

When I'm at parties and social events, some people ask me why I retired early. I tell them that I got tired of the bullshit spouted at the departmental/management level. I got tired of listening to it and having to defend it. I got tired of talking about the same issues and problems ad nauseam. I got tired of no solutions, only talk. Talk, talk, and more talk. And having to go to meetings to talk about everything just a bit more. Meetings make the days go round. But not for me. I just wanted to get off the merry-go-round. So, I did. I was in my late fifties when I got tired of the bullshit. There are a few people who have commented that I could have kept on working until retirement age. My answer? I could have, but I didn't want to. I did what I wanted to do--leave. I left behind a work world that no longer suited me or me it; I left behind a work world that did nothing for me anymore. I got tired of giving my all (and more) and watching those who gave half as much get ahead or get the same rewards (salaries and perks) as those who worked much harder. I got tired of incompetent leaders telling us all what to do and draining the annual budgets with their bloated salaries. My former public sector workplace could have gotten rid of at least three levels of leadership, and then they would have had the long-sought after money to do some of the things they need and want to do. But that won't ever happen. Not in Norway, and not in public sector workplaces, which are top-heavy with administrative positions. 

Once you see through something or someone, it is very difficult to go back to pretending that all is fine. And yet we do that for so much of our lives, live on the surface and act 'as if', in order for things to function smoothly, especially at work. And that's ok, until it isn't. By the time one reaches a certain age, the desire for a more honest way of living is something that can no longer be suppressed, at any cost. 

I keep in touch and socialize with my former colleagues several times a year. Some will remain in my life, and some will not. That's ok. Some older colleagues need to keep pretending that they are happy working. And some few are happy working, so more power to them. I want the younger ones to be happy in their jobs. It's no fun to want to retire when you are in your late forties/early fifties and still have twenty-some odd years to go. Best to love your work for as long as you can. The problems start when you no longer love it and when you can no longer 'cover' over or suppress your unhappiness and dissatisfaction. 

I like my free time, and I like having alone time. I like being able to choose when I want to socialize and when I want to be by myself. I like not having to be 'on' all the time. 

My happy place is my garden. God gave me that gift right at the point when I got tired of most everything else. It reinvigorated me in a way that nothing else has or could. I am forever grateful for what my garden has given me--grace in all forms. 

I love being outdoors. I love to go out walking, be out in nature. When I am in New York, my friends and I usually end up visiting one or another garden or park. There are plenty of them in Tarrytown and the Hudson Valley where I grew up. Here in Oslo, I walk along the Akerselva river or along the city streets until I find a small park. It doesn't matter for the most part where I end up, just that I am outdoors. 

I've decided to take some online courses in horticulture and plant science via the New York Botanical Garden, for no other reason than to learn. To learn. Not to compete with anyone else, not to win a medal, not to be the best at anything. Simply to learn. 

I am relearning Spanish using the online program Duolingo. It's free and it's good. It all depends on how much time you put into it. I started last December and use half an hour each day to learn and relearn Spanish. I have six years of Spanish between high school and college. I got so far in college that I could write long term papers about Spanish poets (Antonio Machado comes to mind). When I read what I wrote then, I marvel at how much Spanish I actually understood. But I need to get better at speaking the language. Because I want to visit Spain with my husband at some point, and I want to be able to converse simply with the Spanish people. 

I love the New York Times crossword puzzles and games, specifically the daily crossword puzzle, Wordle, and Spelling Bee. They keep me on my toes from an English language point of view. They challenge my brain and that's a good thing. Living in another country can wreak havoc with your retention of English language vocabulary. Wordle and Spelling Bee challenge me to remember my English vocabulary. 

I'm reading different authors and understanding that some authors that have been pushed as excellent are authors I find average at best--Joan Didion and Alice Munro come to mind. Didion does little for me (I've written about her before), and Munro is frustrating to read. Her short stories always end in an odd way; odd doesn't have to be a bad thing, but in her case, it is, because the stories rarely offer any resolution. Some few do, but most don't. Some people may say that's life, that there's no resolution for most of what involves us. Maybe it is, but I don't want to read a lot of stories that end in an ambiguous or frustrating way. Winning the Nobel Prize in Literature (Munro) is no guarantee that you will like the author's writing. So much I've realized. 

H.P. Lovecraft comes to mind as a very good author. Imaginative writing, eerie settings, a feeling of sinisterness. He's a horror and fantasy writer, a very sophisticated one. Not a lot of blood and gore. More the suggestion of the nasty things that can or will happen, the creepy things in dark corners of one's mind or room, or the appearance of monsters that will make your blood run cold. He isn't big on conversation in his stories, but the moods he creates are intense and memorable. His writing gets under your skin; at least it got under mine. I think he is a far better writer than either Didion or Munro, who have not gotten under my skin at all, but literary pundits will tell me that I can't compare genres. I'm doing so anyway. I think he is a very good writer. 

Random reflections on this autumn day

• I'm one year retired. No regrets. I love my free time and am enjoying life in a whole new way. 
• Since I retired, I've published three books: a poetry collection (Movements Through the Landscape); a memoir about growing up in Tarrytown, New York (A Town and a Valley. Growing Up in Tarrytown and the Hudson Valley); and a meditative book about gardening (The Gifts of a Garden). All of them are available for purchase on Amazon. I am working very hard to market the latter book, although I'd like all of the books to sell a bit if possible. Sending prayers into the universe for support.
• Marketing books is a job unto itself. I wonder how well other authors do this job.
• Forty years ago, I started working at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. A wonderful workplace, one I will never forget. It changed my life in all good ways and showed me what good leadership really is (professional generosity and wishing others well). 
• I think about those friends and colleagues who are no longer with us. I wish they were still here--Liza, Thu, Debby. You left us too soon. 
• I think about friends who are ill and what they go through every day, living with anxiety and the knowledge that they cannot do what they once could do. 
• Enjoyed visiting the new Munch Museum: Munchmuseet in Oslo today with my husband. We visited the old Munch Museum at Tøyen when I first came to Oslo; I was only vaguely aware then of Edvard Munch's paintings. Over the years I've developed an appreciation of his works. The museum is worth visiting. 
• We ate dinner at Villa Paradiso (Italian restaurant) afterward. I thought how nice it was to do this together, go out on a Saturday afternoon, and I mentioned to him that we should do things like this more often. He agreed. He will be retiring soon, so it will be interesting to see what life will be like then when we have more time together. 
• Munch was preoccupied with sickness, death, mortality (his mother and sister died of tuberculosis when he was young). Illness in general, including mental illness. His was not a very happy life. But he was an amazing artist. The acknowledgment of our mortality. Some say it becomes more acute once one turns sixty. All I know is that I've been living with this knowledge since I was a teenager and watched my father experience heart attacks and strokes. His first heart attack occurred when I was twelve years old; he died when I was twenty-nine. Mortality became real to me as well once I read Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem 'Spring and Fall--to a young child' as a teenager. Perhaps I shouldn't have read it and internalized it. But I did, and it has stuck with me since then, especially the last two lines: 'It is the blight man was born for, it is Margaret you mourn for'. Do we mourn for ourselves, for the knowledge that our lives will eventually merge into the river of time that sweeps us all onward?
• Everyone ages. Some are more afraid of it than others. Some feel the need to change their faces and looks in order to stay young-looking. But it doesn't really work. It changes how you look even if it may make you look younger, and if you are a celebrity, everyone comments. If it changes how you look, does that change who you are? Do you really believe that you are younger? I don't judge others if they want to go down this road, but I think it is probably easier to just accept the gradual changes associated with aging. Look in the mirror. Or don't. My mother would have said 'just live your life. Get on with it'. She was right about so many things. 
• Does having faith make it easier to deal with one's mortality? Perhaps. I'd rather have faith than not have it. But no one knows what life is like after death, since no one has come back to tell us about it, except Christ. And one must accept his words about eternity, in faith. 
• Faith is defined as 'complete trust or confidence in someone or something'; also 'a strong belief in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual conviction rather than proof'. Our society requires proof, evidence, hard facts. Hard to come by where the afterlife is concerned. If someone we once knew and loved rose from the dead before our eyes, I think we would freak out completely. 
• I am now a gardener. That is my identity for at least six months of the year. I am happy in that knowledge. Working with the earth completes me. I don't need much else when I am in my garden. My soul is happy there. It's where I find God. That's all that matters to me. 
• I share my garden photos with others, and they tell me that I am a master gardener. It's nice to hear, but it's not why I share the photos. I want to share the beauty that my soul 'sees'. I hope that others find peace and serenity the way I have found it. That's why I wrote 'The Gifts of a Garden'. 
• I think about so many things when I am working in my garden. There is something about weeding that encourages reflection. I connect with my garden in a silent communion; we talk without the actual utterance of words, but they are uttered in my head. I've learned that if you treat living things well, they will shine. They will do their best to be the best versions of themselves that they can be. If it's true for flowers and plants, it's true for humans (and animals) too.
• As a country (the USA), we need less emphasis on what divides us, and more emphasis on what unites us. The media have had far too much to say about what divides us. But we can choose to listen to it, or to not listen to it. I choose the latter, most of the time. Many women I know have done the same. There is no point in becoming an angry person if that anger does not lead you in the right direction, toward something positive--changing yourself or the situations that infuriate you. If you are constantly angry at everything, your anger is not rational or logical. 
• The orange-haired man appears to be imploding. It had to happen at one point. He's an old man now and he looks it. His behavior borders on deranged. How he's kept up the facade for this long is anyone's guess. 
• As Tania Tetlow--the new president (first woman president) of Fordham University--states, 'we build a common good with ethics, empathy, and faith'. Not with amorality, hardness of heart, and lack of faith. Humans must have hope in order to go on. Our job as Christians is to appeal to that hope in every person we meet. 

Turning off the lights

It's been nearly a year since I left my workplace for the freedom of retirement. I met a former colleague for coffee this afternoon, and we ended up chatting about our former workplace. She has since moved on to greener pastures, as have I. She filled me in on the recent gossip--who has retired, who quit and where they work now, and so forth. As usually happens, we talk too about former leaders, leadership styles and bad leadership. The latter is rampant, and not just at my former workplace, that I understand. It's just that while I worked there, I was always hoping to witness good leadership in action, and I rarely got to see it. It was immensely disappointing. It always seemed as though most leaders were interested in worrying about how satisfied the leaders above them were, rarely about how satisfied the employees who worked for them were. I call it kissing ass up over in the system, a not uncommon phenomenon. 

While I was en route to my coffee meeting, I reflected upon my one year of retirement and leaving the work world behind. Do I miss it at all? No, I don't. I thought about leaving my office, which was the size of a prison cell for two people, for the last time and turning off the light switch. It's a good metaphor for retirement. I turned off the lights--on my job, my career, the perpetual anxiety, the having to deal with arrogant leaders, the stress, and the feeling of never measuring up. How good it feels to have turned off those lights in that old life. And how good it feels to have turned on new light switches in other places; how good it feels to have a new life, one that is totally unencumbered by negative feelings, negative people, and negativity generally. And if I meet negative people in any capacity, I am free to walk away from them, and I do. I am not interested in listening to them or adopting their world views, or adapting in any way to having to deal with them. 

I am free. Whenever I say that to former colleagues, they look at me in surprise. So many people tell me that they never would have thought that I would have retired early. I rejoice inside when they say that. It means I kept my poker face for the last five years I worked there, and never told people about my plans. I could plan my exit well, and I did. I could visualize the next stage in my life, and I did. I am free. It's a wonderful feeling. 

What is there to miss?

There is nothing that I miss about the work world I left behind. There are however several people who seem to be 'waiting' for me to say that I miss working and miss my former workplace. Every time I'm together with them they ask me if I miss working. The answer is always no. I reassure them that I made the right decision since they seem to be worried that I made the wrong decision. They seem to think that they know me better than I know myself. I tell them that wild horses could not drag me back to what was. I've learned (finally) to let go and to live in the present. My workplace belongs to the past. I don't worry about the past and I cannot predict nor do anything about the future, so the best place to live is in the present. I jokingly say that I retired to spend more time in my garden. But it's really the truth. My garden is my happy place. 

I was speaking with one former colleague yesterday since we still socialize from time to time. She had just gotten off the phone with another former colleague who updated her on all the doings at my former workplace. Summa summarum--nothing has changed. Nothing will change. The big egos are still running the show, rude as ever to the researchers they deem worthless (those who don't drag in a ton of money). Rude also to the clinicians who are doing research (or trying to) in addition to their clinical duties. What is there to miss about this type of workplace? Egotistical arrogant superficial uninteresting people (the majority of whom are men). They think they are going to live forever and carry on as though they will. And they can do so for my sake. I don't care a whit about them. 

I also grew weary of the bureaucratic systems that were built up around the practice of science. There are forms to fill out and online systems to learn at every turn. Work life in the public healthcare system is simply about having your every move tracked by one or another system. As my husband says, they exist because there is no longer any trust between employers and employees. He's right. I suppose there are any number of employees who are scoundrels, who cheat the system if they can get away with it, who abuse it and thereby abuse fellow colleagues (in my experience it has been top leadership that has abused the system but that is another story). So the systems grew out of that mistrust. However, the systems now exist by and for themselves. It is very important as a researcher to know how the accounting and ordering departments work in detail, something that has never particularly interested me. I grew up professionally at a time when these departments were support systems for us. Now they dominate the work lives of most researchers, who already use a large amount of time reporting to the granting agencies that give them money to do research. Updating the latter is important, I grant that, but it is not necessary to update them several times a year. Once a year is enough. 

Many pathologists with whom I used to work are leaving the public healthcare system for private labs. I can totally understand this. I wish I had left the public healthcare system years ago. Thankfully there are more private research labs to choose among at present, so that younger researchers don't have to tolerate what we older researchers had to tolerate. The private labs are efficient; they don't waste time on endless meetings and they let their employees do their jobs. A friend of mine, who is now retired, put it this way; he said that all he wanted to do was go to work and do the job he was paid to do. But he couldn't, because he had a boss who insisted that he go to useless meetings and learn administrative systems for which he had little use. What is the point of all of this? He told me that this emphasis on administrative systems is now called New Office Management. Whoopee. I suppose it replaces New Public Management? Who the heck knows, and who the heck cares?

Life has different stages, different chapters. Best to start a new chapter when you have the health and presence of mind to do so. Best to start anew with a sense of anticipation, of fun, of adventure. So no, I don't regret retiring. I transitioned into a new life, one that I'm grateful for and one that makes me happy. If other people don't accept that, that's their problem, not mine. 

The phoenix rises from the ashes

Two months of freedom. It's been nearly two months since I retired. I don't miss the daily grind and I don't miss my former workplace. I miss some of the people I worked with, but that's about it. 

I was out with three former colleagues and friends last night to celebrate my retirement. We ended up at a very nice Italian restaurant called Olivia--very good food and a very pleasant atmosphere. We talked for almost three hours straight, mostly about my former workplace, since they've all worked there over the years. None of them miss it. Strange how that is. We all have different reasons for not missing it, but most of them come down to the arrogance of some of the male leaders (and one female leader) in our department, many of whom thought they were far brighter than they are, as well as the built-in egoism and arrogance of academia. The problem is that you are never good enough except when you drag in a lot of research funding. Then you are worth something. Money talks. It always has and always will. And who you know trumps what you know, every time. George Orwell's quote always comes to mind when I think about some of these 'great' research leaders "All pigs are equal, but some pigs are more equal than others". That about sums up the research experience in my former department. The bullshit that we got fed constantly was that if we wrote good grants and competed with these 'great' scientists, that we too would have a chance to get funding. The reality was that the same (large) research groups and the same researchers got funding every year, and every year one or two more 'small' scientists were squeezed out and deemed unproductive and lazy because they weren't getting funding. The lie we were asked to believe was that there was the real possibility of fair competition based on good ideas and expertise. The reality as I and many others see it was that much of the actual granting of funds was decided beforehand, based on who these researchers knew. As in, calls were made to the relevant political networks and contacts, who always take care of their own. Academia is often defined by cronyism--the appointment of friends and associates to positions of authority, without proper regard to their qualifications (from the online dictionary). A very disagreeable business at times, with the emphasis on business, because in the end, it always comes down to money. Who would miss this crap or the continual scorn heaped upon those scientists who didn't want to (or couldn't) do science the way the big guys did it? Scorn is something many of them are very good at publicly dishing out, so that everyone in their vicinity knows that they're the important guys and the rest are just the stupid underdogs who should serve them. I understand that scientists need to bring in funds to do their research, but there should still be room for small scientists who never wanted to be leaders of huge research centers, who were content with a small research group and with just enough funding to get by each year. What was wrong with that way of doing science? Not everyone has sky-high ambitions; some simply want to do good research the way it was done in the 1990s and early 2000s, before politicians got involved and started demanding results for the money that was appropriated. Politics and science are not a good mix. And lest anyone think that more money equals better science, that is not necessarily true. There is a lot of good science that has resulted from limited funding. Politicians should remember that.  

My self-confidence is slowly returning. The past ten years in academia have been akin to being in a bad marriage where one gets harassed for the least little thing, where there is no kindness, no empathy, no understanding, just unreasonable demands, abuse, distress and unhappiness. My friend's father used to say 'don't let the turkeys get you down'. I tried not to let them get me down every day for the past ten years. I spent much of my time trying to build up the self-confidence of students who were treated rudely by their arrogant mentors in those 'great' research groups; I consoled tearful PhD students and postdocs who were members of those research groups. That took the focus off myself, so that I had little time to deal with my own problems. But my own self-confidence suffered, no doubt about that. I remember wanting to shift jobs back in 2010 and struggling to find something cohesive and positive to say about myself and my expertise. But I am proud of the fact that I never let myself be defeated by those leaders for whom I had NO respect. That has never happened in the past and will never happen as long as I remember to put my soul first. The health of my soul trumps any attempt to destroy my self confidence, my faith, my positivity, my kindness, my empathy. The health of my soul is all that matters. The rest of it--the bullshit--can just fall away. I don't view retirement as an end to anything other than an end to ten years of bullshit. That bullshit has been placed on a huge bonfire and has been reduced to nothing but ashes. The purveyors of the bullshit are another story; I'm guessing that karma will take care of them. One can only hope. And one can hope for a return to a time when what you knew trumped who you know. But I doubt that will happen in my lifetime. 

The phoenix rises from the ashes of the past. We rise from the ashes of our past selves. We are renewed. We are new people. We emerge from the shadows, we are no longer held under the thumbs of those who do not wish us well. We are free, free to fly. That is a good feeling. No amount of money can trump freedom--the freedom to decide for ourselves how we want to live the rest of our lives. 

What I will miss about working as an academic research scientist

This past Monday was my last day as a full-time employee at my university hospital. I can now call myself 'retired'. Not out to pasture 😀, just retired from the job I've been doing for the past thirty years. My department hosted a small and very nice retirement party for me on Monday afternoon; most of the attendees were current and former research group members, department leaders, research technicians, and collaborators. The reactions from co-workers and colleagues to the news of my retirement have been mixed; all of them wish me well, some understand why I'm leaving now, some wonder if I'm retiring too soon and if I will be bored, one woman said right out loud how lucky I was to be retiring. I am glad I decided to retire now. I look forward to a new chapter in my life and to the freedom to put some of my ideas into action. 

There were several talks given about me and my contributions to the department over the years. Those who held the talks were those who have known me the longest. They know what I have accomplished as an academic research scientist. They also know how much help and support I've given others. I was described as having integrity and as someone who believes in fairness/fair play. Those are very true statements; I abhor nepotism, borderline corruption, rewards given to those who do not deserve them. The list is long. I was also described as a driving force by my former boss, who talked about how I brought new techniques into the lab and performed some work (published in 2007) that virtually no one else in the world had done before. Those were nice words to hear. He also described me as someone who can say no, and that is also true; I am not just a yes-person. I have my own opinions and thoughts; I respect what others have to say but if I firmly believe in what I want or in what I think is best for a project or a group, I am hard to dissuade. 

But it is the people I have worked with over the years that I will miss the most. Projects come and go, grant funding came and went, prestige disappears, but what matters the most is how you have treated those who worked for you and with you. It always surprises me how so few people really understand that. People remember how they were treated; I will always remember how well I was treated by the three men (the triumvirate--Frank, Zbigniew and Myron) I worked for at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. My co-workers here in Oslo described me as 'raus'. In English it means 'willing to share and to give a lot, to give without the expectation of anything in return, not miserly'. That was also good to hear, because it's true. I know some leaders who are miserly; by hanging onto their knowledge they hang onto the control they have over others, because it is mostly control and power that they want. God forbid someone under them should 'challenge' their knowledge. But being a miser costs, because misers are not good leaders, and those who work for misers remember their utter selfishness and egoism. I learned 'raushet' from working for others who were 'rause', the men I worked for at Memorial. They gave of their expertise, patience, and knowledge, willingly. They wanted us to succeed. They wanted us to shine. They wanted us to 'outgrow' them. Those are good leaders, and those are the leaders I remember, not the miserly ones, not the rude ones, not the ones who never give of their time willingly. I've met far too many of the latter. 

We scientists would have published very little of our work without the competence and expertise of the research technicians who have worked in our groups over the years. So they are the people I will miss the most. It was a pleasure and a privilege to work with them and to publish articles together. I will miss doing research--the intellectual freedom to pursue an idea and to see where it leads. There is almost nothing that comes close to that feeling of freedom when it all works out. But science the way I enjoyed doing it has changed. I commented on that change in my speech at the end of the party; science is big business now--big money and big research groups. It wasn't always that way, and I prefer the days when research groups were small and money didn't rule. I said that to my audience. Because that is true too. Small is nice. Small allows you to care about the projects and the people involved. I'm grateful for a career that allowed me to do that. 

A new phase of my life

I’ve been thinking about how we freely change our lives, and how sometimes life forces us to change. The two are often intertwined. I’ve always been of the opinion that it’s best to make necessary changes freely, rather than be forced to make them. But not all people would agree on that. Sometimes people wait too long to make changes they should have made years previously. It’s hard to say why they waited; fear perhaps, or inertia—just going along with the flow. Sometimes people need to be told when to make a change, and for many, that’s just fine. They’re not so concerned with the why. They end up not having to deal with the angst and indecision that can accompany working toward making necessary changes freely, because angst and indecision are part of that scenario. I’ve known several people who were forced to make changes they didn’t want to make, and they were resentful about it. It would have been better to have suffered through the angst and indecision of working toward making the changes freely. But they were not those types of people. They survived the changes, but the resentment lingered. My point is that if you freely choose change, you will not resent having to make the change. You may regret the change somewhere down the road, but you won’t have resentment.

I moved to Norway over thirty years ago and changed my life dramatically. I planned the move well, so that when I arrived here, I had a job waiting for me. That was the most important factor for my relocating to Norway, having a job that was compatible with my science background. Looking back on that time, I remember the thoughts and feelings involved. Was I making the right decision? Would I be able to find a job compatible with my expertise? Would I be able to tackle a new country, culture, and language? Would I be able to travel back to NY often to visit family and friends? Would I be too dependent on my future husband for all my social interactions? And so on. I did not move to Norway for political refuge; I moved here so that my husband and I could have the opportunity to develop a long-term relationship with both of us in one place. A long-distance relationship where both parties are separated by an ocean is not an optimal experience after a while. My choice to move here made things easier for my husband, and since I did not have children, I could prioritize my husband’s priorities. I don’t regret that at all. But now that I have chosen to retire early, I want to prioritize other things, among them being able to travel to NY more frequently in order to spend time with my close friends. Life is short and we don’t have enough time to do all the things we might want to do anyway, so it’s best to prioritize as best we can and live accordingly. We cannot predict the future, nor how long our lives will be. A number of co-workers have asked me why I am retiring early, and some have wondered if I regret my decision (already?). I give them the reasons above and state unequivocally that I do not regret making the decision. I’ve had ample time since I gave notice to ‘feel my way’ forward, and it feels fine. I move into the unknown, but it’s ok. The unknown is a part of life. Sometimes you need to hop out into it, and see what happens. Retirement to me is simply a new phase of my life. I look forward to exploring it.

 

Reflections on retirement and the pandemic

Now that I've made the decision to retire, I've begun to reflect about different things, among them, how the pandemic affected my decision to retire this year. In mid-March of 2020, we were essentially told to work from home full-time if we had that possibility, and since most of my work is administrative, I was able to do that. I went from working from home one day a week as I had done for about fifteen years, to doing so five days a week. The first few months of full-time home office were fine; I had plenty to do and the days flew by. I didn't think much about whether I missed the actual office or not, because I didn't have the time to do so. Zoom meetings were new experiences, and people were not weary of them as they are now, over a year later. During the summertime, Norway 'opened up' for a few months, and it felt as though life was beginning to return to normal. In September 2020 I began to go into the office a couple of days a week to update server files and to meet with specific colleagues; we kept our distance and wore masks as required. We were allowed to have small physical meetings (five to ten people) as long as everyone kept the appropriate distance from each other. I held a lecture about my research project in September, and that went well. I began to think about writing the eventual article based on data from that project (that will be published next month), and I started writing it in the autumn of 2020. That kept me busy as well in addition to my biobanking administrative work. 

And then the winter months hit, as did a new lockdown right after Christmas. It was as though the reigning powers that be said--it's ok to shop and celebrate Christmas, but the punishment for doing that is a new lockdown right afterward. As of January 2021, normal life ceased and we were suddenly thrown back to March 2020. Working from home full-time began to feel like a chore. It wasn't a positive experience anymore. Zoom meetings were a bore, even though they were necessary. The only ones I got anything out of were the meetings with our research technician about her work on my research project. They were interactive and productive meetings. The amount of biobanking administrative work fell off dramatically from what I was used to in 2020, probably partially due to that our department leader (who prioritized biobanking) moved on to another job and priorities shifted as they often do under a new department leader. Biobanking work seems to have been deprioritized; I could be wrong. But the amount of biobanking administrative work has continued to decline, and no one seems to have an explanation for why that is the case. My research article is now written and will be published soon, research funding has run out, there is very little biobanking work, and my PhD student successfully defended her thesis in April. I'm essentially finished with all of the projects and work that I've been responsible for during the past five years or so. It began to feel like a good time to retire. It's not as though I didn't plan for it, I did. I planned quite well. I knew I wanted to retire in 2021, I just wasn't sure when. As it turns out, retiring at the end of August seemed to be the best decision. 

I didn't expect the pandemic to factor into the decision, but it did. The pandemic exacerbated the loneliness of academic life. When I am physically at work, I share an office with a pathologist who has a lot of diagnostic work to do. Sometimes we chat, and that is always pleasant. She is really the only person I truly interact with in the space of a day. But still, it is a lonely life. And working from home full-time began to seem quite lonely too. I don't mind being alone at all. But in the context of a work situation, I discovered I am one of those people who enjoy the professional and social interactions at work, however few they are. Being at home all day began to wear on me. Additionally, I realized that most of my colleagues are former colleagues; they are already retired. There aren't a lot of new contacts waiting in the wings. Those days of establishing collaborations with other scientists are over. 

So in the end, I feel lonely at the office and lonely at home--in a work context. When I am not working and am at home full-time, I'm fine. I have lots of other non-science-related projects to focus on--writing and gardening being two of them. I feel lonelier at work (whether at the office or at home) then I do when not working. That is as good a reason as any to retire now. I thank the pandemic for helping me to figure that out. 

A leap into the unknown

And so I've taken the next step and a leap into the unknown--in September I will join the ranks of those who have retired early. I've thought long and hard about this decision and have planned well for it, as one of my leaders commented. I have. My responsibilities for research projects and PhD/Masters students are fulfilled; my last PhD student defended her thesis in April. I could go in another direction now and start to study another type of cancer (my focus has been colorectal cancer for my entire academic career), but I don't want to switch fields and there is no more funding to be obtained for my particular research area. I'm proud of the work I've done. I've published nearly one hundred research articles as a main author/co-author and have been a mentor/co-mentor for three Masters students and six PhD students, all of whom successfully finished their degrees. What I've learned after many years in academia is that an academic career is demanding; one must be good at grant-writing, article-writing, mentorship, project planning and execution, networking, academic politics, communication, and diplomacy. I was good at most of it, but not at academic politics and as it evolved, grant-writing. But to be fair, the world of research science changed dramatically compared to when I started out in the mid-1990s. It was easier to write grants and get them funded then. I prefer the way research was done then--in smaller research groups without an emphasis on centers of excellence and platform-based research. I am old-school and do not apologize for it. I do not fit together with big research groups and large research centers, nor am I interested in having to follow a center leader's plan for what type of research project I should focus on. As a senior scientist, I feel that this decision should be left up to me, but often it's not. I've written about all of this before, about how postdocs are used as technicians in large research groups, going from one postdoc position to another and using valuable time trying to please group leaders instead of the group leaders encouraging them to become independent scientists. I would go so far as to say that many group leaders use postdocs as slaves; they know they will get a lot of work out of them, but they don't have to worry about rewarding them in any way. It's unfair, and that's just the way it is. There are scientist associations (unions) working on the problem, but so far it remains that--a problem. 

I won't miss the work world. Either it moved away from me, or I grew beyond it. I grew to want more than it could give me. I used to get really jazzed at the idea of scientific meetings and conferences; I no longer do. It's more a 'been there done that' type of feeling. And I could write a long post about academic politics--how bored I am with them; the truth is that you are either on the current ruling team or you're not. If you're not, you're not important, and that means that your expertise is mostly ignored in favor of someone else who just happens to be on the right political side. And so it goes. Life is not fair, and academic life is definitely not fair. It's who you know, not what you know. I think it's always been that way, and that it will continue to be that way. I also won't miss the feeling of constantly having to do homework--read articles, stay updated, read more articles, plan more research. It's tiring. 

Now that I've informed my leaders, I feel free. I've been walking around for the past year with this decision on my shoulders, so to speak. Should I or shouldn't I? As it turned out, there are personal reasons for why I made the decision now. I won't detail them here, but it has to do with that life is short and that friendships mean more than work. So in a sense, the decision was easy to make. I want to spend more time with friends, not more time at the office. 

Leaving the work world is a leap into the unknown. I look forward to finding out what the next life chapter holds. I don't need to know everything that's going to happen, nor do I want any major plans or responsibilities hanging over me. I want at least one year without any plans or responsibilities. After that, we'll see. One thing is for sure; I will be able to focus on my writing a lot more. It will be nice to have the time to do that, when I want to do it. And if you want to find me most days during spring, summer, and fall, you'll find me in my garden. 

Traveling, gaining new perspective, and life changes

Traveling opens the mind to new ways of thinking and looking at situations. I don't know how many times I have returned from a trip filled with renewed hope, enthusiasm, and motivation to tackle certain aspects of life that may have appeared complicated or tricky before I left. While I am away, I seem to be able to let go in a much better way than when I am continually faced with the same situation day after day. Sometimes it IS good to get away in order to get perspective. What may seem overwhelming on a daily basis becomes manageable after getting distance from it. That is my experience and I'm sure it has been the experience of others.

Traveling allows the mind to relax and focus on the now. When I am traveling, I don't think too much about the past or the future. I enjoy the present, because the things I am doing are enjoyable and fun, and I am doing them with people I love and care about.

This will become ever more important as I get older. I know now when I want to retire, and I am moving in that direction, moving my daily life in that direction, so that all my actions translate into a gradual rather than abrupt transition into a life without a daily work schedule. Some days I think about what I will do when I retire, other days I realize I don't need to plan it all now. Perhaps it's best to let life happen, to see what life brings at that point. Many of my American friends have retired already. Those who have not, have unusual work schedules; they either have home offices or they travel a lot and are not office-bound. They've had that alternative work style for a number of years now, and seem to function quite well. They haven't had the social camaraderie of a daily workplace and they don't seem to miss it, with one exception. I don't know if I will miss it; I don't think I will. I've had it for a number of decades now, and I find it tiring to think about continuing in the same vein for another ten years.

What I will miss is my career as a scientist. As I wrote to my close friend recently about starting to clean out my office and getting rid of old files and papers I don't need anymore, I find it freeing, but a bit sad at the same time. It makes me realize that those days will be no more, those fun days of science, and that my career is ebbing. But then I remind myself that it's not impending retirement that took the fun away or caused the ebbing. It's the fact that academia turned into a huge money-making business about a decade ago, and so many of us were just blindsided by it. It's never been the same since. And that is true. It's not the getting older that changed things, it's the fact that academia is akin to the corporate world now, where huge sums of money are involved and necessary if you want to survive in it. If you don't have a business plan, or plans to patent your findings, or plans to grow your research group into a huge conglomerate, or plans to create a center of excellence, there really is no place for you anymore. You are a drain on the system if you don't bring in large grants or obtain many PhD and post-doc positions. So it seems right to plan on leaving it behind in the near future. I know it won't happen without conflicting feelings; I have accepted that major change is accompanied by uncertainty, anxiety, sadness, happiness, exhilaration, and confusion. Life is messy and it's just to accept that and live it and live through major changes in the best possible way. Many others have done it before me. I have their experiences and wisdom to guide me.

Back to the grind

And so it’s back to the grind after five weeks of summer vacation. Back to work after the wonderful freedom of not working. When I was a child in grammar school, I couldn’t wait for summer vacation to be over so that I could go back to school. It’s not that I didn’t like having the time off, it’s just that at some point it felt good to think about preparing for school again. When we were children, our job was to go to school and that was fine with me. I never experienced school as prison, like many of my fellow students. I felt pretty much the same way about high school and college; I enjoyed school and learning and felt privileged to be able to go to school. By the time I got to graduate school however, I was tired of rote education and felt the need to get out and work, to apply what I’d learned. I’ve been in the workforce for nearly forty years now, and most of those years have been interesting, motivating and productive. Motivation has dwindled however in the last five years or so, not because I lost interest in my research work, but because the research system changed into something I no longer recognized, with its emphasis on selling yourself, hyping your ideas, hiring and promoting extroverts, and networking ad nauseam. Since I am not an extrovert, and since I don’t feel comfortable around braggarts or bragging about my own work, I’ve pulled back and become an observer of what goes on around me. It’s been interesting to observe the rise and fall of the show-boaters. I suppose the pendulum will eventually swing back toward the middle, where it will be ok again to do your research work quietly, efficiently and well. I long for those days to return, but I doubt that they will before I retire. And that’s quite ok too. I’ve had a good run and it’s time for the younger scientists to take over. I have accepted this, but it’s actually interesting and somewhat humorous to see that others haven’t accepted this—I am still mentoring students, still running into the lab to answer questions, find something in the refrigerator, check out a lab procedure, and so forth. I no longer have funding for lab consumables, so I make do by utilizing antibodies and tissue sections that were bought and prepared several years ago. Who knew that I would be able to see into the future then and prepare for the drought? I was smart enough to prepare and it has paid off somewhat in the sense that I am not completely bereft of lab consumables. I just cannot purchase new ones, and the likelihood of getting funded at this point in time is slim. But as people say to me, ‘never say never’, even though deep down I hold out little hope of further funding.

So I look forward to retiring and only wish I could do so now instead of having to wait another three years. Three more years of grant application rejections, three more years of research article rejections, three more years of remaining patient in the face of a stupid uncaring system. Three more years of futile salary discussions in a system that has no budget to give its employees a lift (because most of the money is being used to pay the exorbitant salaries of the leaders who abound about us like rabbits). They multiply three-fold each year. We’re up to six levels of leadership now and I don’t have a clue as to what any of them do each day. Three more years of braggarts, of researchers with huge amounts of funding who don’t have a clue as to how the other half lives. I tell people the truth—I have no funding, zero, zip, nada. That’s how it goes, and I’m fine with it. I only wish I could exit stage left now.  

Thinking about the future and retirement when you are young

I’m always a bit surprised by what people respond to on social media sites. I am a rather infrequent commenter myself on social media; it takes a lot to get me to write a pithy response to an online article that I found provocative, timely or interesting. If something strikes me as inherently kind or compassionate, I may write a short note praising the writer for his or her insights and empathy. This past week I read a very short but good article on the Care2 website that dispensed some good advice on how to stop wasting money and to think about the future (http://www.care2.com/greenliving/top-6-ways-we-all-waste-money-and-how-to-stop.html). I thought the article was well-written enough to comment on, and this is what I wrote:

Very good tips. If I could emphasize one thing, it would be this. Think about retirement when you are young and starting out in the work world. It's never too soon to start saving your own money toward retirement.

The Care2 community likes to deal out what it calls Green Stars of Appreciation, and I got quite a few for this little comment (notification by email). All well and good. What struck me was that this way of thinking is perhaps not so widespread as you might think. When I worked at different American workplaces in the 1980s, there was always the requisite orientation day that included presentations of 401K plans and IRAs and that sort of thing, so we were in fact briefly introduced to the topic of retirement. But it wasn’t ‘emphasized’ to think ahead, to sock away as much as possible so that you had a good nest egg for when you were older. And when you’re young, you think you’ll be young forever, so you don’t save as much as you should toward retirement. I asked several people, all of whom are middle-aged like me, whether they had been encouraged to save for retirement when they were young and starting out in the work world. The answer was unanimously ‘no’, and that’s true for me as well. Several of those I talked to wished that it had been hammered into them—save for retirement no matter what.

I make it a point to tell the young people I know to save a lot toward retirement when they’re young. Think income, promotions and salary raises. Look out for yourself. I say this to young women especially, but the advice is relevant for young men as well. Why? When you are young, work matters a lot, in fact, identity becomes wrapped up in one’s work. You love your job and you think you will want to work forever. You don’t consider any other possibility. And the world around you is telling you ‘don't play it safe, take risks, live for now’. But mindsets change as we grow older--gradually for some people, abruptly for others, depending upon how you are treated by your workplaces in many cases when you reach middle-age. Suddenly you may find yourself thinking about retiring early in order to pursue a new career, course of study, hobbies, volunteer work—but you don’t have the funds to retire. You don’t have the freedom to change your life. This might not seem like a big deal to some people, but it is a big deal. It is no fun to be stuck in a job or a way of life you are weary of until you are 70 years of age in order to have enough money to retire. I think it might also be smart to tell young people that they don’t have to have the biggest homes, multiple cars, expensive vacations, and all the rest, at the expense of a good retirement account. You don't have to achieve the materialistic dreams that society deems important. Enjoy life, enjoy material pursuits (to a point), pursue your work dreams and goals, but be smart about the future. One day you will retire and you may want to do it sooner than later.   

A lesson in employee satisfaction

”People are the most important resource we have at SKAGEN and it is therefore very gratifying that they are also very happy in their jobs. The workplace is demanding, but unique, and expertise and knowledge are important in all aspects of the organization”.

Mette Helgevold Årstad, SKAGEN Human Resources manager

Why you wonder, am I quoting a human resources manager and her views about the company she works for? It is because the company she works for is not just any company, it is a mutual funds company founded in 1993, and it was recently voted one of the top ten places to work in Norway by the Great Place to Work Institute. They surveyed 12,000 employees from 136 companies and SKAGEN FUNDS came in as #9 out of 68 companies with 50-250 employees. Impressive, if you ask me, but I’ve heard this before about the company. And it makes me wonder how they do it. How do they achieve employee satisfaction? Could it be the bonuses that they hand out at Christmas time to all employees, from high-level managers to secretaries? What is their secret? Whatever it is, I want to bottle it and share it with my (public sector) workplace, because at present it’s on the opposite end of the scale in terms of employee satisfaction, unfortunately. And I know a lot of the skeptics will tell me that SKAGEN is a private company and that things are done differently there. So what? Why can’t the public sector adopt other things from the private sector besides the goal of making money? Why can’t they learn from the private sector how to treat employees well?

Many people in this country have bought shares in mutual funds offered by SKAGEN; the company thus has a huge amount of money at its disposal for its national and global investments, and has done very well since its founding in 1993. They not only treat their employees well, they also treat their clients well. We recently attended the play ENRON courtesy of SKAGEN; they had a few hundred tickets that were made available on a first-come/first-served basis to attentive (answering an email ad) clients, and I just happened to be one of the lucky ones who got tickets when I saw the email advertising this. I like this idea of treating clients to a night out. The skeptics and the cynics I know were quick to add that the company can afford it and so on—that it’s just a drop in the financial bucket for them. I know this is true. But I ask--how many other companies are actually doing this for their clients? I appreciate the gesture. It’s not just the rich they’re courting; it’s the common man and woman. And I’m not naive; of course I know that they are looking for new clients. Again I say, so what—it’s their job and they do it well. They also offer seminars and courses, for example, on pensions and pension reform, saving for retirement, and so forth. I recently attended an evening seminar for women only which was very interesting, particularly the lecture about pensions, retirement, and early retirement. The seminar was free and during the break, the company provided tapas, dessert, fruit and wine. So again I say, if this is how they can treat their clients—by sharing a little of the wealth, then it’s not surprising that they also ‘share the wealth’ with their employees. Not too difficult to achieve employee satisfaction that way—by rewarding your employees for their hard work. But not only that, it seems to be an interesting place to work, even though it’s a high-pressure environment. SKAGEN seems to function well as a company and other companies could learn from them how to treat their employees. I’m not just talking about handing out bonuses at Christmas time; I’m talking about creating a work environment that appreciates and cares about its employees, at least from my vantage point. I’m talking about leadership that listens to and ‘sees’ its employees and likes them. There’s a lot right with this picture.

Changing jobs

So many people I know both here and in the USA are switching jobs or would like to. It’s not easy these days to get a new job in either country; there are usually hundreds of applicants for one position and the interview rate is abysmally low. Perhaps five people get called in to an interview out of fifty applicants; ten percent in other words. It may sound like a high percentage, but if you’re not one of the lucky five people, it doesn’t matter. I am so happy for the few people I know who have just found out that they will be starting new jobs and will be leaving my workplace. They deserve their new positions after years spent working hard and getting nowhere fast. Because my workplace does not really reward hard work and professional competence; it rewards other things—political savvy and a broad belief in the power of administrators and a balanced budget (a pipe dream). So again, if you’re not one of the lucky few who ‘makes’ it based on these characteristics, you don’t make it. I would need to write a book to explain why this is so; suffice it to say that if you are a doctor or a nurse or an administrator you are worth something to the hospital. If you are a scientific researcher, you are worth less these days simply because budgets have to be balanced and there is no direct ‘product’ from your work that can be measured in the same way as the hospital can measure the number of patients admitted, treated and released. The hospital wants numbers; scientists know that research takes time and that the results of research will be published eventually, but they have no control over how fast that process occurs. It can sometimes take two years to publish an article. This is not good for the bottom line of an accounting sheet. Why does it take so long? Because you can get an article rejected the first time around, also the second time around, and then perhaps it will be published on the third try. It can thus take up to one year to get an article accepted by a journal and another six months to a year before it is actually in print. Effective? No. Frustrating? Yes. Because the administrators want evidence of ‘production’ and it doesn’t go fast enough for them. We are not considered productive in the same way as a doctor or nurse would be. We are therefore expendable, and if it wasn’t for the fact that scientists working in the public sector are organized in this country, we would be the first to go, of that I have no doubt.

I know there is no such thing as the perfect job. But I know too that there are better workplaces than the one I work in; workplaces that are focused on their employees’ wellbeing, that want them to thrive and to succeed. Why is this important? Because these workplaces know that a happy motivated employee will do a good job for his or her workplace. It’s only to do the math. None of this is very complicated to figure out, and I’m surprised that more workplaces haven’t figured it out. I wish my workplace would figure it out. But I know they won’t and it’s time to just stop talking about it. I’m done, as one of my friends in New York often says. And she means it. I mean it too.

I know people in the USA who have been without a job for several years now. They have applied for food stamps in order to buy food and they ask family and friends for financial help. I know it’s not easy there to find a job or to keep it. I don’t know though if this is just the corporate world, or if this is true for the public sector as well. I don’t know how it is these days generally in the USA anymore where workplaces are concerned; I’ve been away from the country too long. I just know how it is here in Norway. A recent article stated that over fifty-five percent of workers want to retire when they are sixty-two years old. I am one of them. The article focused on the fact that most of these people are in for a shock when they find out how little their monthly pensions will actually be, and that they will find it difficult to live. I am taking steps to prepare myself for this eventuality. One of them is to sock away as much money each month as possible to make early retirement possible. Other possibilities include acknowledging that one may end up working part-time—two or three days a week. So many people tell me that I will be bored or that I will miss full-time work if I retire early. I already know that I won’t. I am looking forward to changing my life (and would love to change it now), to having time to do volunteer work, to read, to do consulting work, to write, and so many other things. I won’t be bored. Retirement could not be more boring than being stuck in a job where one is invisible, unused and unappreciated. Apparently fifty-five percent of all workers agree on one thing—by sixty-two they will have had enough of their workplaces. The problem of course is what they’re (we’re) all going to do with our newfound free time. As I said, I am making plans already. If plan A doesn’t work there will be plan B, and so forth. I am planning for retirement the way I never planned my career or my retirement investments when I was younger. But it’s never too late to start. And who knows, maybe I will be one of the lucky ones that ends my work life in a job that is fulfilling and that makes me happy--the way I felt ten to fifteen years ago about my job. Nothing beats that feeling of loving your work. But time changes things and the ways things are done, and you cannot hang onto the past or dwell there. It’s just to accept how the present is and plan from there.

Wake me when it's time to retire!

Just thought I'd share a comic with you today that kind of describes how I feel most days about working........Thank God for humor, for irony, for self-irony, for the ability to laugh. Without it, I'd be sunk.......

http://www.gocomics.com/getalife/2010/11/19/

On Retiring Early

Vacation time is here. Four blessed weeks of freedom. I filled out an online survey recently that had to do with how people felt about their work, and many of the questions had to do with what one preferred, e.g. a salary increase accompanied by more hours at work, or more free time. I answered-- more free time. Ten years ago I would have answered--salary increase, which is more evidence that I have definitely changed over the years. Free time is worth gold to me now.

I am not the only person who likes free time. Many people I have talked to recently say the same thing. They are tired of working and they love their free time. I listen to what they have to say and I weigh it all against my own feelings. I think what we’re all tired of is the push to produce, compete, produce more and compete more. It never ends, and enough is never enough. And against the backdrop of business corruption, the global financial crisis, layoffs and unemployment, outrageous salaries and retirement benefits for company leaders, and outsourcing of jobs, it seems strange to me that more people don’t want to quit their jobs, just out of pure anger at the unfairness of it all. But I’m guessing that many do and just don’t say it because to say it rubs more salt into the wound. They know they have to work to keep adding to their pensions, and some people have lost their pensions due to the corruption and bad investments that we’ve all read about. This hasn’t happened to me, thank God, because I don’t know what I would do with the amount of anger I would feel if my company had betrayed me like that. I get irritated enough with other types of unfairness at work. I want to take early retirement and I will spend the next ten years of my work life saving as much money as I can, living simply and effectively, and not spending extravagantly. My husband and I have lived like this most of our adult lives already because working as scientists has never been about making a lot of money. We have lived non-extravagantly for many years now. The word ‘budget’ has always been part of our vocabulary and will likely remain so for the rest of our lives.

I was talking to my good friend in NY recently about working and being tired, and was probably complaining a bit, and she just said to me, you want to retire now. It took me all of about two seconds to realize that what she said was true. But of course I cannot retire now. I think it is strange to consider that I want to retire now because I have been a near-workaholic for years. Perhaps that is why I am tired. The long hours have caught up with me. Or perhaps I just need a change--maybe a different type of job would be the answer. It is worth considering. Another good friend said to me that what I feel now has more to do with that I have achieved what I want to achieve in my current profession, that I have reached a plateau and now feel like a drone. Also a very interesting idea to consider and it may be true. What I do know is that retirement for me will be a time of adventure, new challenges and creativity. I have no plans to sit around doing nothing. I want to use my free time well—write (and hopefully publish what I write), read all the books that are on my list, take language courses, travel, do photography, do some consulting work, do volunteer work at my church, and who knows what else. Time will tell. It will be the next phase of life and I think it will be a very interesting phase. I hope so at least.