I’m Not Retired, I’m Sliding
By Diane
Girard
Some women retire gracefully
at their appointed day and hour, and some of us just slide along
wondering what the heck happened. I'm a slider.
This summer was a slippery
time. I turned 59, my contract job ended and I moved. I’ve been
madly busy; looking for work; writing for an agency, getting to
know a new city and wondering what possessed me to move to a place
where I know only five people, and two of them are children.
Now, strange things
are happening to me. I wake up at the very late hour of 8:30 a.m.
(it used to be 6:00 a.m.) make my coffee, check my electronic
mail, read the newspaper want ads and a book and suddenly – it’s
noon. I can’t understand it.
Part of the blame for
what happens to my day rests with that local den of iniquity –
the public library. It is only a block and a half away. How can
I resist its siren call? I’ve become a lurker. One of those people
you see in libraries, sitting at the long tables reading the out-of-town
newspapers and magazines and then – sneaking out quietly with
bags full of books. There must be help available for this condition.
I refer to these library hours as my research time, but no one
believes me. They know I lust after the latest best selling novels.
Time also disappears
at the local mall. I don’t visit the coffee shop every time.
Just every other time. I’m worried the waitress will start saying,
"do you want your regular dear." The possibility of a ‘dear’ salutation
bothers me. I see myself as an older siren, mature, rounded, appealing,
but the waitress seems to see someone else entirely. Perhaps if
I wore a form fitting sweater and tighter jeans. But no, that
way lies madness and ridicule.
The spectre of becoming
a mall lady, the female version of the older men who wear gold
chains, open shirts and bad toupees haunts me. It’s all research
I say, research on consumer habits for an article I’m writing.
But, no one believes me. They see the signs of addiction, the
bagel crumbs and the frequent user coffee card.
There are other signs
of the slide. I’ve seriously considered attending a fifty plus
singles event. I was able to stop myself, this time. I’ve also
given at least three minutes of thought to becoming a consultant,
that last resort of the underemployed. I’ve even leafed through
a Martha Stewart magazine but it fell from my hands. I was not
worthy. I’ve written snail-mail letters to distant friends creating
correspondence guilt and causing them to make expensive long-distance
phone calls. Fortunately, my grandsons help me see the error of
my ways. They say that I’m very smart and I look just the same
as I always have. They don’t say that I look good, just that I
look the same.
If you have experienced
any of these signs of sliding you might want to join my Behaviour
Justification Program which begins next week. I will not seek
to modify your behaviour but rather to help you explain it to
those who do not understand. The starting date may be slightly
delayed; a new best seller just arrived.
Diane
Girard is 59 years old and lives in Kitchener, Ontario, Canada
near her family of a daughter and two grandsons. Diane began writing
poetry and fiction in grade school and has continued to scribble
for her own pleasure while earning a living in different ways.
She has had several careers and is currently not considering
becoming a consultant.
In the late 1960's,
Diane worked in one of the first women's Information and Referral
Centres in Canada. She also participated in consciousness-raising
groups and duked it out on paper with a radical feminist leader
who felt Diane should not be married. Diane returned to school
part-time and became a Library Technician. There was no work in
that field. She was sent to school by the government and became
a bookkeeper. She disliked bookkeeping intensely. Diane worked
for Bell Canada, the Law Reform Commission, a brokerage house
and other employers to odious to mention before finding career
happiness working with seniors. Diane sings in a local choir and
is a classically trained pianist who now plays for her own amazement.
She reads constantly and is addicted to poppy seed rolls and Tim
Horton's coffee.
Flattering comments
may be sent to her via e-mail at digirar@sprint.ca
