The Golden Years are Coming to Getcha

As I've said before, I am a lucky man. I work in hardware distribution where there is only one way out: feet first, in a bag. People don't retire, they die. maybe at their desk. They work well past their usefulness, but they are kept around because hardware buyers like to talk to them. Of course as the Internet belatedly invades the business, perhaps things will change and I'll be forced to retire. Perhaps a server made by Cisco Systems will take over my job. If this happens I'll have to find something to do. It shouldn't be impossible to find something useful to do. Many people are already retired. What do they do?

Many retired people work as hands-on technicians in the exciting field of resource recovery. As glass and plastics specialists, they play a major role in resource recovery and landfill reduction by helping the greater public recycle these valuable resources. Working at all hours, they efficiently screen household discarded items left in the street for the sanitation department for containers that can be returned for deposit. Armed with a shopping cart, bicycle or recycled pram, they collect hundreds of thousands of returnable containers every week and return them to the collection center for recycling. Combing their neighbors garbage gives them a sense of purpose and dignity, as they help to improve our ecosystem while supplementing their fixed, meager, so-called Social Security income. It's a win-win situation!

Many retired persons work in the field of food distribution management. This is a high pressure job that requires a soft touch, skill with spatial arrangement, product knowledge, and consumate people skills. The pressure starts when the conveyor belt first starts to move and the cashier's fingers fly across the keys, and builds as the sold product accumulates in the staging area and must be placed in the light wood- or petroleum-based contatiner for transport. If you have ever been given a timed block puzzle test by a psychologist, then you have an idea what the Food Distribution Manager goes through as they sort and pack the food products into transport containers. They must know what can go on top of what, and what needs to be taped shut, And they must show friendliness and courtesy as they ask the timeless question, "paper or plastic."

Positions are waiting to be filled in the unpaid entertainment industry. Check Craigslist and you'll see position after position offered for "Daft Old Man" or "Crazy Old Lady". The city I live in solicits senior centers for volunteers to act up on the bus, or be eccentric in the park because these diversions add so much color and atmosphere to the otherwise youth-dominated urban scene. Whereas life could be plain vanilla, seniors make it tutti fruity. Whereas a trip to the park could be mundane and boring, an old duffer raving at the top of his lungs at the pigeons makes it a true adventure. I'll tell you, if I'm forced to retire, Daft Old Man is where it's at for me.

Simply getting old will create a lot of jobs for other people. There will be adult diapers to change, sponge baths to be given, and the guilt of careless relatives to be assuaged. Retired people can feel useful just vegging out and doing nothing, letting the staff do every last thing for them, from feeding to its opposite. I have to admit that the idea is somewhat attractive after having worked and worked, year after year after year, explaining the difference between fail safe and fail secure to glass installers, to just sit and do absolutely nothing. And if I do, I will be creating a job for somebody. Isn't that special?

Yes, if I fail to die before I have to retire, I'm going to be a Daft Old Man. As it is, I am a Daft Middle-aged Man now, so it is not so great a leap. My needs are simple. I don't need a lot of food, and I don't mind if I go a little hungry, so I'm sure that my Social Security benefits will be adequate for my need. I trust my government implicitly to give me back the money I put into the Social Security system. Why shouldn't I? The government has never lied, has it?