Work Is Overrated

I had to ship some boxes from my parents’ house back to my apartment in L.A. and so I had to go to the post office back home last week.

An old man held the door open for me as I was carrying these boxes and when I let him back in front of me in the line, he said he wasn’t in a rush, I could stay in front of him.

We got to talking and he told me that he’s been retired for 15 years and he loves it. He spent his whole life working for an insurance company and chasing promotions and bonuses. But now he spends time with his children and grandchildren. I asked him if he missed having a career and he said he didn’t. “All that stuff about needing work to tell me who I am– that’s nonsense. Work is work. I’d rather spend my time with my family.”

I told him I lived in L.A. now and he said one of his fondest memories was in 1955 when he had to go to L.A. on business and the big boss needed someone to pick up a car in San Francisco and drive it down to L.A. He volunteered and took a brand new Thunderbird down the PCH the whole way. That was his only fond memory of work.