When You're Too Old to Retire Early
Getting ready for the glue factory
Almost three years ago to the date, the hiring manager for a contract writing position at Pinterest signed up for this newsletter and made my blood run cold. Not really, but it felt weird for a boss-to-be. Boundaries!
This friendly gesture had the chilling effect of making me think twice about everything I wanted to say and ultimately caused me to stop publishing this sporadic-at-best newsletter altogether. This manager eventually left for a startup and came back after being laid off (tech is volatile!) and then I got fired, so now I’m simply removing her from the mailing list, even though I like her as a person, and will carry on as if the past three years never happened.
I’m 90% sure I got an initial interview because we both had master’s degrees from Pratt (me library science, her industrial design), which has been the only instance in my 51 years where my education has yielded any tangible results.
I barely even went to a real college in the sense that my graduating class was like 35 people, the average student age was 25, with plenty closer to 40, and we had no campus or dorms, so my 1994 BFA in printmaking hasn’t exactly opened any doors over the past 30 years, especially not in NYC where state schools are suspect, let alone no name art schools.
Did I really land my first tech job at 48?! Yes, I did! And I’d never had such a high salary in my life, which realistically is in line with my age and experience, especially when Refinery 29 keeps pumping out “Money Diaries” like “I'm 34, Make $235,000 A Year & I'm Mourning My Favorite Workout Shirt.” When I was 34 I was making $45k and that was a $7k bump from my first post-grad job working in an ad agency library, a job that was dying out even at the time.
At 48, I’d never received a welcome gift, in this case a succulent I killed within the year, or broadband reimbursement or a work-from-home budget. Oh, and literal shitloads of swag–this Coachella gear just arrived in the mail last week! I have no problem admitting I bought a treadmill desk thing, just because I could, and I’ve never used it once, so the parts have just been laying on the ground downstairs for years because I can’t get motivated to put it together.
And after I was hired full-time in 2022, I had my first matching 401k, so I could follow personal finance 101 advice to get the maximum employer match like a normal person, and even became acquainted with RSUs, which provided a chunk of cash every three months so I could just buy things because I wanted to.
I had my sights set on a Samsung Frame TV, a Toto bidet to replace my broken Costco one, a new Leesa mattress, and a pair of very expensive boots because I read about them in a Cut wide-calf boot roundup and was surprised to see this brand included (I have green Labucq ankle boots that barely zip up). Even though I suspected my job was in jeopardy and I never dress up anymore, I bought the boots anyway! Who gives a shit? To be fair, there was an unexpected 20% off flash sale during the Super Bowl, which was enough of a nudge for me.
Because I take nothing for granted and am suspicious of anything positive, this job situation seemed too good to be true. From day one, I feared it wouldn’t last so I saved aggressively by my standards and figured I’d ride it out as long as I could. I still can’t decide whether this brief high-flying phase was a trajectory I’m still on or if it was an aberration.
Ok, what did I accomplish in three years? Yes, this is me hyping myself up so I can still salvage 2024.
I managed to pay off the $20k in credit card debt I somehow accrued after moving to Portland in 2018. I had a much lower cost of living in NYC, which I know sounds counterintuitive.
I was able to refinance my mortgage even though it was a bit of a fudge since technically I was a contractor to lower my monthly payment $500 to $1450, essentially the price of a one-bedroom apartment. (However, my monthly property taxes have gone up from $500 to $600 in five years and they will continue going up forever, so I’m starting to understand why right-wingers want to eliminate property tax. I’m all for funding universal pre-K. Police pensions, not so much.)
Even though I realize credit scores are complete American bullshit, refinancing certainly takes them into account, so I’m pained to admit I paid ~$1000 to Sprint for the phone they claimed they didn’t receive as a trade in (and I was too dumb and distracted to get a tracking number) just to get that ding removed from my record. I’m now back over 800 when I was barely at 600 in 2020.
I’ll refrain from sharing numbers, mostly because they’re dismal, but I was able to save for retirement again, which I’ve now paused for the billionth time, and isn’t saying much since I didn’t really even start saving until my mid-30s. I’m actually with these young nihilists because I’m too old for the FIRE movement and I’m not convinced I’ll even live long enough to retire. My dad was forced to retire for health reasons and died at 61 right before taking a cruise to Mexico, his first time out of the country, and he was Mexican-American! Shouldn’t I enjoy a few extra bucks now when I know I can and still have legs vs. being frugal for a future I might never see?
I’ve been taking some pretty kickass vacations anyway, even paying for my boyfriend (which is less egregious–I would be judgmental if another woman was telling me this!--considering I primarily use points and miles for airfare, and hotels don’t cost any more for two vs. just me) so I don’t really need to save for some abstract future if I’m doing things I want to now. I wear the pants.
I definitely knew my former manager was Gen X when the team was discussing career paths and she mentioned she was just happy to have a job at all. That’s the spirit! Everyone else were Girl Bosses who would never ever admit anything less than a desire for more responsibility, more visibility, and the accolades that come with that upward progression.
I have never wanted to run the show. I do not care! I’ve just gone sideways for 20 years, never becoming a manager or director or VP. Jobs are jobs and I’ve always considered them a means to an end, nothing more, but it’s like you can never admit or say that lest you be branded as a quiet quitter a.k.a just doing your job.
Right before I got let go, my team was putting committees together, including one for career development. The company takes great pains to be inclusive, but all the body positivity and gender diversity in the world doesn’t change the fact that 85% of employees are under 40. We were supposed to be identifying what we wanted to do more of and less of and where you wanted to be 10 years. The absurdity of a 36-year-old manager to be presenting this? I’m not 27. I’m going to be be 61 fucking years old in ten years! I don’t have a career path left, if I ever had one to begin with.
Sorry, I didn't intend to end on a sour note. NGL it does suck to see your former job posted on LinkedIn in the “job picks for you” section, no less! Oh shit, they took it down already–it was only up two business days–guessing they had an overwhelming response since the job market is bananas right now. I eagerly await to see which ambitious millennial (or precocious Gen Z) they hire for my role.