I’m Retired. I’m Still Interested.
Most of my friends seem reasonably good at being retired.
They travel, play bridge, read, spend time with family, and pursue interests they finally have time to enjoy. Their calendars can be surprisingly full. Suggesting that they might want to take on some paid work would probably get me a puzzled look.
At my age, suggesting it for myself might get an even more puzzled look.
But I find myself looking for something interesting to do that might also pay. Something that requires thought, perhaps presents a challenge, and produces a result someone else finds useful.
I have retired several times. Apparently, I understand how to stop working better than I understand how to stop being interested.
I Have Tried Keeping Busy
About six years ago, I worked in a hardware store for ten to twelve hours a week. I helped customers find things, answered questions, operated the checkout, and learned where an astonishing variety of small objects belonged.
It was fun. I met people, had somewhere to go, and earned a little money. The proceeds helped pay for an oversized television, which struck me as a perfectly respectable retirement objective.
For a while, the arrangement suited me. But after a year or so, it became repetitive. There were only so many variations on helping someone find the right fitting or explaining where we kept the batteries.
The job had served its purpose. It also taught me that filling time and sustaining interest are different things.
Advice Was More Interesting. The Business Was Less So.
A few years before that, a friend and I began helping small businesses with basic business questions. Sometimes they needed a strategy. Sometimes they needed to work out what business they were actually trying to build.
I enjoyed those conversations. Different owners brought different problems, and it was satisfying to help someone sort through an idea, recognize an obstacle, or see a possibility they had missed.
I also spent a couple of years volunteering with SCORE and worked with our small-business assistance group. Much of the help was offered free, so there wasn’t much revenue.
What eventually developed into a consulting business came with another set of lessons. Customers could appreciate the advice without being particularly prompt about paying for it. The business ended with substantial unpaid invoices and little profit.
I have no desire to repeat that experience. I still enjoy the advice process. Finding clients, managing engagements, and collecting money are less appealing.
Knowing which part you enjoy turns out to be fairly important.
There Is Only So Much Reading I Can Do
I read somewhere between 45 and 55 books a year. When the weather gets cold, I can spend time on jigsaw puzzles. Gardening no longer fills the hours it once did.
Those are pleasant ways to spend time. They don’t quite satisfy the same interest as working through a problem with someone.
During my working years, I particularly enjoyed making an observation and exploring what it might make possible. A technical development could have consequences for a business, an industry, or the way people lived. Discussing those possibilities with colleagues often took us somewhere none of us would have reached alone.
I still like doing that. Some of these articles grow from exactly that impulse.
Writing gives me a reason to investigate, think, and attempt to explain what I find. But I also miss the exchange: someone bringing a problem, questioning an assumption, or asking whether an idea could actually work.
There is time available for something with that kind of purpose.
And Yes, I Would Like to Be Paid
I have done volunteer work and understand its value. At this point, I would prefer to find an activity that someone considers worth paying for.
That adds a useful test. An interesting conversation can be enjoyable for everyone involved. A paying customer expects something useful to come out of it.
Extra income would certainly be welcome. But the amount alone would not make an opportunity attractive. If the work is tedious, heavily scheduled, or requires building another business around it, I am unlikely to be enthusiastic.
I would like an undertaking that holds my interest and uses some judgment, with a manageable commitment and a clear result.
Writing that sentence was considerably easier than finding the undertaking.
Why Would Anyone Choose an Old Guy?
This is the question I can’t reasonably skip.
There are plenty of younger people with current skills, energy, and years ahead of them. Why would someone choose a person over 85?
“I have a lot of experience” is an incomplete answer. Experience is useful when it helps with the problem someone has today. A long résumé can also contain a considerable amount of knowledge that has passed its expiration date.
I would need to show what I can contribute now.
Perhaps that is examining an idea, recognizing a familiar business problem in an unfamiliar setting, or asking a question that changes how someone approaches a decision. Perhaps it is explaining something complicated well enough that another person can act on it.
Those possibilities deserve testing. They don’t become marketable services simply because I enjoy them.
A friend seeks paying board positions where his particular financial skills are valuable. His expertise fits an identifiable need. That connection gives someone a reason to choose him.
I would need to find my own version of that fit.
Retirement Leaves Room for Different Answers
I don’t expect my friends to share this interest. Someone who has spent decades meeting obligations may be delighted to have no customers, deadlines, or work-related problems left to solve.
I understand the appeal. I am selective about the obligations I would take on, too.
But I still enjoy having a problem worth thinking about and a reason to bring my experience to the discussion. Being old hasn’t removed that interest. It has made me more particular about what deserves my time.
So I am still looking. The hardware store was one experiment. Small-business advice was another. Writing these articles continues to be one.
I would like to find something engaging enough to look forward to, useful enough to matter to someone else, and valuable enough to earn a payment.
If you have found that combination in retirement, I would be interested in hearing how. What do you do—and what made it worth taking on?Most of my friends seem reasonably good at being retired.
They travel, play bridge, read, spend time with family, and pursue interests they finally have time to enjoy. Their calendars can be surprisingly full. Suggesting that they might want to take on some paid work would probably get me a puzzled look.
At my age, suggesting it for myself might get an even more puzzled look.
But I find myself looking for something interesting to do that might also pay. Something that requires thought, perhaps presents a challenge, and produces a result someone else finds useful.
I have retired several times. Apparently, I understand how to stop working better than I understand how to stop being interested.
I Have Tried Keeping Busy
About six years ago, I worked in a hardware store for ten to twelve hours a week. I helped customers find things, answered questions, operated the checkout, and learned where an astonishing variety of small objects belonged.
It was fun. I met people, had somewhere to go, and earned a little money. The proceeds helped pay for an oversized television, which struck me as a perfectly respectable retirement objective.
For a while, the arrangement suited me. But after a year or so, it became repetitive. There were only so many variations on helping someone find the right fitting or explaining where we kept the batteries.
The job had served its purpose. It also taught me that filling time and sustaining interest are different things.
Advice Was More Interesting. The Business Was Less So.
A few years before that, a friend and I began helping small businesses with basic business questions. Sometimes they needed a strategy. Sometimes they needed to work out what business they were actually trying to build.
I enjoyed those conversations. Different owners brought different problems, and it was satisfying to help someone sort through an idea, recognize an obstacle, or see a possibility they had missed.
I also spent a couple of years volunteering with SCORE and worked with our small-business assistance group. Much of the help was offered free, so there wasn’t much revenue.
What eventually developed into a consulting business came with another set of lessons. Customers could appreciate the advice without being particularly prompt about paying for it. The business ended with substantial unpaid invoices and little profit.
I have no desire to repeat that experience. I still enjoy the advice process. Finding clients, managing engagements, and collecting money are less appealing.
Knowing which part you enjoy turns out to be fairly important.
There Is Only So Much Reading I Can Do
I read somewhere between 45 and 55 books a year. When the weather gets cold, I can spend time on jigsaw puzzles. Gardening no longer fills the hours it once did.
Those are pleasant ways to spend time. They don’t quite satisfy the same interest as working through a problem with someone.
During my working years, I particularly enjoyed making an observation and exploring what it might make possible. A technical development could have consequences for a business, an industry, or the way people lived. Discussing those possibilities with colleagues often took us somewhere none of us would have reached alone.
I still like doing that. Some of these articles grow from exactly that impulse.
Writing gives me a reason to investigate, think, and attempt to explain what I find. But I also miss the exchange: someone bringing a problem, questioning an assumption, or asking whether an idea could actually work.
There is time available for something with that kind of purpose.
And Yes, I Would Like to Be Paid
I have done volunteer work and understand its value. At this point, I would prefer to find an activity that someone considers worth paying for.
That adds a useful test. An interesting conversation can be enjoyable for everyone involved. A paying customer expects something useful to come out of it.
Extra income would certainly be welcome. But the amount alone would not make an opportunity attractive. If the work is tedious, heavily scheduled, or requires building another business around it, I am unlikely to be enthusiastic.
I would like an undertaking that holds my interest and uses some judgment, with a manageable commitment and a clear result.
Writing that sentence was considerably easier than finding the undertaking.
Why Would Anyone Choose an Old Guy?
This is the question I can’t reasonably skip.
There are plenty of younger people with current skills, energy, and years ahead of them. Why would someone choose a person over 85?
“I have a lot of experience” is an incomplete answer. Experience is useful when it helps with the problem someone has today. A long résumé can also contain a considerable amount of knowledge that has passed its expiration date.
I would need to show what I can contribute now.
Perhaps that is examining an idea, recognizing a familiar business problem in an unfamiliar setting, or asking a question that changes how someone approaches a decision. Perhaps it is explaining something complicated well enough that another person can act on it.
Those possibilities deserve testing. They don’t become marketable services simply because I enjoy them.
A friend seeks paying board positions where his particular financial skills are valuable. His expertise fits an identifiable need. That connection gives someone a reason to choose him.
I would need to find my own version of that fit.
Retirement Leaves Room for Different Answers
I don’t expect my friends to share this interest. Someone who has spent decades meeting obligations may be delighted to have no customers, deadlines, or work-related problems left to solve.
I understand the appeal. I am selective about the obligations I would take on, too.
But I still enjoy having a problem worth thinking about and a reason to bring my experience to the discussion. Being old hasn’t removed that interest. It has made me more particular about what deserves my time.
So I am still looking. The hardware store was one experiment. Small-business advice was another. Writing these articles continues to be one.
I would like to find something engaging enough to look forward to, useful enough to matter to someone else, and valuable enough to earn a payment.
If you have found that combination in retirement, I would be interested in hearing how. What do you do—and what made it worth taking on?
