As an undergrad, I bore the stigma of being an engineering student. That wasn't easy. Because among all disciplines, engineering was generally considered the nerdiest. Even worse, I was an electrical engineering student. That meant the engineering community itself derided me. Can you imagine what it feels like to be scorned by nerds? It doesn't get any worse than that. But that was me. Geek by association. It didn't matter what I said or did. I was typecast.
"Just like an engineer - focused on the details."
"Just like an engineer - analyzing everything."
"Just like an engineer - world's worst date." (Wait..what?)
I lived with the humiliation of the engineering label throughout my entire undergrad. And two years of the working world to boot. And then...
So I'm in the dorm cafeteria the very first week of my MBA program. A foreign student sits down at my table with a question for everyone.
"I want to send a thank you letter to the family I stayed with this summer. But I don't know how to address the envelope. The name is Jones. So, should I address it to The Jones', The Jones's, or...The Joneses?"
Much discussion ensued about what was proper, what was accepted, and what was idiomatic.
(For you non-English majors, "idiomatic" is a grammatical term for "something Sarah Palin would say, instinctively.")
So anyway, lots of back and forth and back and forth. Finally, I gave my opinion.
"Why not just address it to The Jones Family?"
Lots of laughter. Then, from the other end of the table...
"Just like an MBA...always looking for the easy way out."
And just like that, I went from being nerdy to contemptible.
Don't get me wrong, I actually liked the new reputation. Anything was better than what I lived through the previous six years. (Ten, if you include high school.) (Infinity, if you include junior high.) But it sure did strike me how quickly we judge each other based on a modicum of information.
And that's where one of the worst things about early retirement comes in.
Okay, let's say you're at a party. A lively party with lots of fine, interesting individuals. (No engineers. No MBAs.) Let's say you're standing there when some stranger appears and strikes up a conversation with you. After the introductions, and maybe a word or two about the party and the weather, what do you say? Seriously, what do you say next?
Give up? Okay, here's exactly what you say next:
Give up? Okay, here's exactly what you say next:
"So. What do you do?"
That question? Very American. It's just what we say. It's just how we think. But in much of the world, it is considered incredibly
rude. Why? Because you are basically sizing them up. You'd might as well ask:
And by the way, that sizing up makes titles very, very important to us. Because you know that question's coming. It always does. And we really want to be able to answer, "I'm the senior associate assistant executive vice president of blah, blah, blah."
It's all a game - gaining and losing points based on profession, company, title and oversight. And the thing I've come to realize is that no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot win if you retire early. (You can't win that game, period. But that's another rant.)
Oh, that's the worst! That awful, awful question! Now, don't get me wrong, people usually ask out of genuine curiosity and interest. It's just that no matter what you say, and no matter how busy you try to sound, you'll never convince anyone that you are anything but useless.
In our culture, your value, your identity and your contribution to society are all about what you do for a living. So, if you retire early, well, you aren't really worth anything.
The big issue for me is that in casual conversations, I can't seem to make my response sound any less lame. I've tried. But, in like thirty seconds, there is no way I can successfully explain my philosophy of life, intentional time, minimalism, core values, etc. No frickin' way.
So I'm stuck with a big ol' L on my forehead.
(Yes. That happened.)
Sometimes, it even hits close to home. My father-in-law worked hard his whole life until he retired at age 65. For his generation, that's what you do. That's how it's done. And frankly, it's quite honorable. He sacrificed a lot of years and earned his keep.
So he doesn't understand this whole early retirement, intentional time thing of mine. Not one bit.
In fact, when he found out I was retiring, he expressed his concerns to Rooty.
A few months later, when the whole family was saying its goodbyes after Thanksgiving dinner, he turned to my brother-in-law and shook his hand vigorously.
Then he turned to me, and extended his hand rather feebly.
"So...how much money do you earn?"
"So...are you as educated as I am?"
"Whip it out, bud...let's compare."
And by the way, that sizing up makes titles very, very important to us. Because you know that question's coming. It always does. And we really want to be able to answer, "I'm the senior associate assistant executive vice president of blah, blah, blah."
It's all a game - gaining and losing points based on profession, company, title and oversight. And the thing I've come to realize is that no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot win if you retire early. (You can't win that game, period. But that's another rant.)
"So. What do you do?"
"Actually, I'm retired." (Ding! +1)
"So...looking for something more interesting?" (Trans: Got laid off, huh?) (Dang! -2)
"No. I'm actually retired." (Ding! +1)
"Wow...That's amazing..." (Ding! +3!)
"But...what do you do with all your free time?" (Doh! -10)
Oh, that's the worst! That awful, awful question! Now, don't get me wrong, people usually ask out of genuine curiosity and interest. It's just that no matter what you say, and no matter how busy you try to sound, you'll never convince anyone that you are anything but useless.
"Well, I uh...coach soccer and baseball. And, basketball, recently." (Bzzz...-3)
"And, I uh...help my kids with their homework." (Bzzzzz...-8)
"And...do more of my share of the chores around the house." (Bzzzzz!...-17)
"And I have this blog, you see...that I uh..." (Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!...-95)
In our culture, your value, your identity and your contribution to society are all about what you do for a living. So, if you retire early, well, you aren't really worth anything.
The big issue for me is that in casual conversations, I can't seem to make my response sound any less lame. I've tried. But, in like thirty seconds, there is no way I can successfully explain my philosophy of life, intentional time, minimalism, core values, etc. No frickin' way.
So I'm stuck with a big ol' L on my forehead.
"You're a househusband!"
(Yes. That happened.)
Sometimes, it even hits close to home. My father-in-law worked hard his whole life until he retired at age 65. For his generation, that's what you do. That's how it's done. And frankly, it's quite honorable. He sacrificed a lot of years and earned his keep.
So he doesn't understand this whole early retirement, intentional time thing of mine. Not one bit.
In fact, when he found out I was retiring, he expressed his concerns to Rooty.
"People will think he's lazy." (Trans: I think he's lazy.)
"He's not lazy. In fact, he worked really, really hard, and saved his money all those years, specifically so he could retire early."
"You can never have enough money."
A few months later, when the whole family was saying its goodbyes after Thanksgiving dinner, he turned to my brother-in-law and shook his hand vigorously.
"Well, Todd! Keep up the good work!!"
Then he turned to me, and extended his hand rather feebly.
"Well...drive safely."
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