Lessons for the Retired, the Re-retired, and the Just Plain Tired

If you’re a faithful reader of this blog, you may remember how, after 18 months of retirement, I returned to my old job at city hall this past October “for a couple of weeks” until the position could be filled again. Three weeks into my “couple of weeks,” health restrictions tightened and many of us began working from home. I did so almost exclusively, going into the office only three or four times over the following nine weeks.

Once my replacement started, I agreed to train her. It’s tough to teach anyone all your bad habits remotely, so I spent my last six mornings in person at city hall, trying to stay six feet from my student, both of us in our masks. Fortunately for me, for city hall, and for taxpayers, my replacement is a smart, capable, and experienced worker who also grew up here, knows the city, and caught on quickly.

All told, my couple of weeks stretched into three months and I’m happy to say, “I’ve done enough damage here for this time around.” I’m tired!

Returning to my old workplace held some surprises in store.

When I initially retired, thoughts of work had fled my mind shockingly fast. When invited back, I feared I’d remember nothing and prove more of a liability than an asset. But within a day or two, I was even more surprised by how quickly I began “owning” the job again. Thinking about it when I didn’t need to. Solving problems not really mine to worry about. That’s not bad, but it’s exhausting. The effort has confirmed for me what I already knew—I’m not capable of holding down a permanent job and being the writer I want to be. At this stage of life, I must choose.

I also walked away with a few tips to share.

Firstly, don’t burn your bridges. When it’s time to retire or resign, leave with integrity. Once you’ve given notice, remaining invested can be hard but it’s worth the effort. Do everything in your power to finish what you began. Clean your desk thoroughly for the next person. As much as lies within you, provide your co-workers whatever they might need from you. People who do not leave well do not get invited back. (And even if you refuse the invitation, I can tell you it feels darn good to be asked.)

Secondly, whatever you’re working on, give your all. While working from home, I used the same space for my city work as my writing work, but two different computers. I made sure one was completely shut down and out of reach while working on the other. Carrying around ideas for both jobs in your head is challenging enough without having them drawn to your attention by pinging emails or chirping text messages.

Thirdly, be willing to adapt. Living and working through this pandemic is teaching us all new skills we never needed before. I was impressed by how well my coworkers committed to the protocols of mask-wearing, sanitizing, temperature-taking, distancing, and “zooming” without complaint. I admire how our I.T. team of two keep everyone’s computers functioning, especially with many working from home. I couldn’t believe how well it worked to be able to access files from home, thanks to the brilliance of those who understand this stuff. Kudos to all!

And now, it’s back to story-writing for this old retiree. But first, perhaps a nice long nap.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters,  since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” (Colossians 3:23-24 NIV)

City Hall in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba

 

 

AND THEN I REMEMBERED...

If you’ve heard a rumor that I’m once again working at City Hall in Portage la Prairie, you heard right. And you heard wrong.

After 18 months of retirement, the City invited me back to help out until my old position can be filled once again. The request came completely out of the blue, but I knew I was supposed to say yes. I’m discovering that being pulled out of retirement is proving excellent for the memory.

Portage la Prairie City Hall

Day One felt the way I imagine it feels to come out of a coma. Slowly, gradually, I began to recall how to do various tasks I hadn’t given a thought to for a year and a half. Despite dead brain cells, the job was coming back to me and it felt good.

Until I returned home, too exhausted to do anything else. Then I remembered why I’d been so eager to retire.

Commuting to work on foot reminded me how lovely it is to feel alert and fit at 8:15 a.m.

Until I arose one mid-week morning to ice and snow. Then I remembered why retirement had felt so delicious.

Back at work, everyone was so appreciative and nice to me, I remembered why I’d been hesitant to leave in the first place.

Then I handled a phone call from a disgruntled citizen and remembered how little I’d missed work.

By the end of my first week, the work seemed like second nature. I felt competent. Useful. Accomplished. I remembered what I liked about working.

Then I suffered a restless night and remembered why I’d wanted to retire.

Until my first payday. Then I remembered why I spent most of my life employed.

Until a writing deadline loomed but my limited brain energy was all drained at city hall. Then I remembered how desperately I’d longed to retire.

Then one of my co-workers said, “I’m so glad you’re back. It feels like all’s right with the world having you here.” Which may have been a tad dramatic, but it made me remember what I loved about being at work.

Then I referred to Davy Crockett and another co-worker asked, “Who’s Davy Crockett?” and I remembered that I’m the oldest person in the building.

After three weeks, Covid restrictions tightened again, and I’m now spending my mornings on a city laptop in my house, remotely connected to files on the city’s server. And I remember how, even before retirement, I’d often thought I would like to try working from home. Except not under such sad circumstances.

While my memory bank is yanking me around like a kite in the wind, I confess I’ve wondered what God is up to in all this. It may be as simple as my easing another’s load for a while. Or maybe God has unfinished business for me. Or he’s simply providing for our financial needs in a surprising way. Maybe he wanted to remind me of the importance of not burning your bridges. Perhaps it’s all of the above or something I have yet to discover. Regardless, lessons can be learned in every expected and unexpected turn in the road and I don’t want to miss them. If my memory has retained anything, it is this: you are never a mere pawn moved around by a mysterious higher power. God opens doors and gives us the freedom to choose whether to step through or to stay put. Choose well. You’ll make some great memories.

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)

 

Farewell to City Hall (Or, How to be an utterly UNdelightful citizen...)

I began my role as Administrative Assistant for the City of Portage la Prairie on March 30, 2009. To make it an exact decade, I picked March 29, 2019 for my last day. I’ve held the same position and worked at the same desk all this time, something that might cause younger people to ask, “What’s wrong with you?”

Though I came in with the required administrative skills, I knew little about municipal government in 2009. I’m forever grateful to have had the privilege of completing the Manitoba Municipal Administrators certificate program—a big deal for someone who skipped university in her youth. I deeply appreciate those who took a chance on me and patiently taught me what I needed to know—especially Sharon Williams, Dale Lyle, and Nettie Neudorf. I’ve worked with three different mayors, three City Managers, and two Managers of Administration. (Sorry if I frightened you all off.)

Ten years is long enough to see a lot of staff come and go, long enough to see the transition from paper to paperless council agendas, and long enough to learn a bazillion acronyms. It’s more than enough time to gain an appreciation for the work that goes into keeping a city running.

It’s also long enough to form a few opinions about what makes a less-than-helpful citizen.

If your deepest desire is to be a horrible citizen, consider these tips.

1.     Don’t Vote. Since most Canadians vote at every opportunity, be different and take this so-called privilege for granted. The 40.6 percent voter turnout in our last civic election was way too high. I think Portage could bring that down to 25 percent with little effort. The biggest advantage to not voting is that it earns you the right to grumble about every pot hole, parking ticket, and crime in your neighborhood. See how that works?

2.     Complain as often, as loudly, and as disrespectfully as you can. They’ll try to tell you the person who voices their concerns sparingly and with genuine respect will be heard above the chronic complainers; that a wheel’s squeak can become so constant it’s merely white noise. Don’t you believe it. You’ll need to ramp up that squeak to get the grease.

3.     Whatever you do, under no circumstances should you talk to God about your elected officials or city employees. Regardless of what they claim, they are not regular human beings who need encouragement, appreciation, wise advice, or respect. The guys fixing our sewer pipes in frigid temperatures or in the blazing sun love every minute. The clerks on the receiving end of your verbal abuse about issues over which they have no control eat that up like candy. So save your prayers for those who matter. Like the Jets.

As for the rest of you? Just do the above, except the opposite.

Imagine what our community could look like if we all considered ourselves “public servants” in the simplest and purest form of the phrase. A song we sing at my church says, “Greater things have yet to come, and greater things are yet to be done in this city.” As I transition into my new life as a full-time writer working from home, I hope to remain part of those greater things with my votes, my words, and my prayers.

Thank you, Portage, for these past ten years at your service. It’s been an honor.