Is there any sweeter moment for a working stiff than 5 o'clock on a Friday afternoon? There is if it's your last day on the job.
Skip, our advertising manager, retired today. We celebrated with a traditional office potluck, which means everyone ate way too much and became more stuporous than we usually are at the end of the week. Skip left in a flurry of goodbyes and good wishes - tinged, of course with an edge of envy. No matter how much we love our jobs, the siren song of retirement seduces us with promises of silent alarm clocks, third cups of coffee and a glorious blank canvas of hours to fill in whatever madcap way we choose.
Retirement envy's got me thinking of get-rich schemes, some of which almost make sense.
I could, for example, write a best selling novel. That should only take a few years. And some brilliance. And maybe an idea for a plot.
My recurring genius idea is a car that comes when you call it. This idea neatly bisects with my contention that life should be a lot more like a Warner Brothers cartoon.
Picture a chilly fall afternoon. An ill-tempered wind is flinging sleet pellets in your face. You smugly pull out your computer programmed whistle and give a toot. From its parking spot blocks away your car revs up and glides over to where you wait, its sensors detecting oncoming traffic and pedestrians. The heater is already on, as is your favorite CD.
Wouldn't you take out a second mortgage to own this wonder-mobile?
All I need is the engineering knowledge, the mechanical knowledge, and a few million bucks for product development.
Then there's my more plausible retirement plan: work hard, save money, and bid my desk adieu in another twenty years or so.
Wait. There is one more resort. All right, Jess, Dan and Melissa, who's going to amass a fortune and support Mom in the style to which she wants to become accustomed?
Enough daydreaming. I'm going to get this weekend started. After all, I'm due back at my desk Monday morning.
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