A Day in the Life of Chaos

There is an odd feeling of finality as you wait out the final days of your sentence.   Like a prisoner waiting for parole your life becomes gentler as you experience increasing work release. You have long seen what’s on the other side yet for 33 years it seemed so close but yet so far.   In a few short days I will be liberated but it comes with a calliope of associated feelings, some sweet, some sour.   Work in many ways is like a relationship.  It becomes a major part of your life and is the foundation of your routine.  Everything is scheduled around its needs and a significant part of your day consists of meeting the associated obligations.  Since I was a young man most of what I do, even in my personal life is governed by my job.  Like asking permission from a parent, supervisors exercise a god like authority evaluating, considering and permitting many facets of life.  In the case of the self-employed their lives are equally restricted by the needs of their businesses.  In the re

Today a couple of my coworkers with ages close to half mine asked me what I would do retired.  Do I have a hobby?  Like do I like to build models or something? One suggested submarines; I don’t know why.  I immediately thought about an odd coworker I once had who would build WW2 models in his house while his equally odd children were homeschooled.  I always imagined him hunched over with one of those extendable magnifying glasses putting the final touches on an SS officer standing beside his Panzer tank.   My visions then led me to the Illinois Nazi in the Movie “The Blues Brothers” who in one scene is sitting at a desk painting a ceramic eagle.  I didn’t really know how to answer the question. I really don’t have any hobbies.  I wish I did, but they take so much space and I don’t even know what interests me.   I told him maybe I would become a re-enactor.   I was joking but honestly it seems like it would be fun in a guy sort of way.  On second thought, maybe I don’t want to go sit i

  “So its for sure now, I will retire.”   I have been waiting 33 years of my life to say that.   The only ones that can relate are those that have experienced or will experience the same thing.   I am learning that the hard way.   I know my wife doesn’t understand.   She never had the experience of showing up for the same job for 33 years.   This was mostly by design as our transient life never allowed her the consistency of a career.   For 33 years I have had to be responsible to something other than myself and my family.  I have had to follow the government’s rules.  I have had to live my life around the demands of another.  For some people their career becomes their identity.  They are their job.  It is a function so intertwined with day to day existence that when the link is broke their life loses meaning.  I am not one of those people.  I am grateful for my career.  For the places it has taken me and the life it has given me.  I am also grateful to leave my desk and computer b

This year, 2023, is my thirty second year of federal employment.  I am standing on the precipice.  It is the year I become eligible to retire.  Life is essentially filled with a number of dramatic checkpoints.  First and foremost there is birth, how can you argue that it is not important?  With its occurrence we literally win the lottery of life.  Facing the competition of between 200 and 500 million sperm one got through and made us.  Holy shit, what are the odds?  It has got to be up there with winning the Power Ball.  Of course like winning the Power Ball there is no guarantee it will end well and often it does not . Senator Roscoe Conkling, NY The next big moment comes when you enter life and assume responsibility for your self and existence.  This often follows being kicked out of your parents house.  Sometimes removal is more gradual and evolutionary as you work your way through college and then find a career.  This is usually a period marked by severe economic dependency.    Pos

Alfredo (L) Me on (R) Today is the last day at work for one of my best friends.   He is not so old, 53 I think.  Despite his relative youth, in the world of special agents and law enforcement personnel, a special deal is made.  They are allowed to retire with only 20 years of service.   This is largely because the years of long hours and professional stress are expected to take their toll on the body and cause many to die younger.   Being a civil service person but not an agent I need to have 30 years of service and be nearly 57 years of age before I can walk away.  In the overall scheme of things it is still a great deal.  This in a world where many people today wonder if they will ever be able to retire.  I think about this every time I see an elderly woman serving fast food at Chick-fila or an elderly man bagging groceries at the Publix. When you think about it, we spend most of our lives working.  Over the years many of us spend more time with our co-workers than we ever do w