Swan Song: A Gen X Perspective on Retirement

Tonight, those of us at CPH celebrated the retirement of a venerable member of our team. In his early 70s, this gentleman is happily moving into a new chapter of life; retiring without apology to sunny Southern California (near his grandchildren).

Watching him perform the final act of a long and successful career has been an interesting experience these past few weeks. And it's been pretty impossible (if you are a person prone to any degree of reflection and introspection) not to consider what the end of a career must mean, should mean, will mean someday.

I've found myself appreciating the incredible good humor, relaxed attitude, and startling clarity and insight that this co-worker has provided since he announced that his time was – at long last – almost up. And while I (like many at the office) have speculated that it shouldn't take a person until the very end to behave with such freedom – in the end I think that perhaps that's precisely how it must be. After all, when else in your career can you perform so totally unfettered from the worries, politics, and expectations of the workplace? There should be something really unique about the last chapter of a person's professional life.

Long time employees and leaders who are preparing to retire are an
incredible asset to an organization.

The last parting shots they choose to lob your way are replete with wisdom and perspective – because the 40-year veteran of an organization is a dying breed in and of themselves. So listen up. I did, and here’s what I discovered:

Primarily, the lesson I discovered in Larry’s enthusiastic exit wasn't that we should all conduct ourselves like we are on the way out throughout all of our job-focused days. The lesson is that we should conduct ourselves with such passion, integrity, and no-regrets-ethic that when our last chapter comes, people are drawn to the energy we are still giving, the insight we are still sharing, the unique perspective we are still lending - right up until we walk out the door on that last 5 o'clock afternoon.

You don’t ever, ever check out. And you always exit with grace and passion. After all, it’s the final chorus of what you’ve spent the majority of your waking hours doing for 40plus years of your life. Make the conclusion a fulfilling end to the story, eh?

Here’s what I’ve learned from Larry:

1. Old-fashioned business sense matters, and provides a necessary balance to our new approaches for solving time-worn marketplace struggles masked in contemporary skin.

2. A solid handshake and a direct look in the eye cannot be undervalued, and means a tremendous amount in a world of fast paced, touchless communication.

3. If you want to impress a person, you better work at it. Contrary to what I hear a lot these days, you do have to earn the respect of the older crowd – not because you “have to”, but because you should want to.

4. If you are impressed by every somewhat talented person who stumbles across your path, you aren’t really too bright. Be on the watch for the real gems, and push them to excel.

5. Sometimes business is hard. Actually, often time business is hard – and you don’t do anyone (or any organization) any favors by curbing demands for performance.

6. Good leaders aren’t there to blow sunshine at you – and if you don’t like that, well … that’s sort of the point. Go work harder.

Taken alone these lessons don’t equal organizational success, and in fact in a new order marketplace they definitely don’t equal success. But they are necessary, and bring balance to the “new” mode of relating in business, and applying them (or at least acknowledging them) is useful.

When I met Larry, I was prepared to really not like him too much. He was gruff. Abrupt. His emails never more than about 10 words. And he absolutely didn’t fall all over himself in love with all (or any) of my ideas just because I presented them professionally and with energy. He actually made me cry (not at work, but on the long commute home) on more than one occasion. Frustration was there.

I had to work – really, really hard – to impress Larry. At the end of the day, it paid off. And he gave me some of the best, most valuable, and most meaningful praise I’ve ever received. He also left me with some pretty straightforward marching orders about my future in business. And that’s given me plenty to mull over.

So here’s to you, Larry. Thanks for being hard, old-school, and infinitely difficult. I’ve learned an incredible lot from your example.

Go enjoy that sunshine. And please leave us a number where we can track you down once in awhile.

NPR vs. Pop Hits: Defining the Day at Drive Time

So, each morning I haul my gear to my trusty MINI Cooper: carefully organized briefcase, purse with cell phone, lunch bag (or if I am feeling particularly flush, a few bills tucked into my side pocket), tumbler with my current Starbucks fave blend (which right now is the bold flavor of Komodo Dragon), security badge … and off I head for the 35-40 minute commute into the city.

In the course of this early AM daily grind, two decisions are made to which I am paying more and more attention as these two decisions seem to predict the day that follows.

First decision: how to get to work?

Am I in the mood to get there quickly – eschewing scenery and willing, even, to spend a few additional, treasured drips of petrol for the faster route? Well then, it's 94 straight up to Interstate 70 and into the heart of the city for me.

OR do I want the moderate route, but shorter mileage? Do I feel okay with starts and stops and patient enough to wait through traffic lights? Well then, Page extension across to 1-70 and into the city via 40 – complete with the beautiful view of morning sun cresting the trees along the edge of Forest Park.

But perhaps, I am looking for the "total experience" – in which case, take the above route, but exit at Kingshighway and wind down Shaw towards my South City destination – taking in the stately townhouses lining the outer limits of the Botanical Gardens, admiring the commitment of the early morning joggers and taking stock of the neighborhood, wondering what it would be like to live “in the city” in a place like this.

Each route is different and my willingness to select it seems to say something about my frame of mind as I begin the day. It’s a simple choice – but a telling one.

Second decision: what to listen to?

Most people don't know this about me, but I actually dislike being asked about my “favorite” music – or really my favorite anything for that matter. It all depends! Most mornings, it’s NPR. I like listening to NPR. Like most Americans who enjoy the programming, I enjoy being informed, but - again like most Americans who tune in - I secretly like to feel smart. And NPR is smart radio. So on many mornings, it's Steve Inskeep for me … news with Carl Kassel … etc.

Other mornings, it’s NPR at the top of the hour for the news from Washington and then it’s a mad channel surf through pop radio – with the top 40 turned up loud and vibrant. And let me tell you, I've given some fantastic pop performances behind the wheel of that MINI!

And sometimes it’s a favorite CD, carefully and deliberately selected before I leave the house – Josh Groban or Amy Grant or Harry Connick or Preservation Hall jazz or … And there’s doubtless a method to the madness of these choices as well.

And some days. There is just. Silence.

I can’t help but notice how these two seemingly innocuous, routine decisions have a fortune cookie like prescience about how the day unfolds. I’m left wondering, could I make a different, deliberate choice to force the day? Let’s say I am feeling stodgy and direct (natural choices would be NPR and the direct route to the office), could I force upbeat and whimsical (electing for let’s say an old CD from the 1990s and the Shaw Blvd drive)?

I don’t think it would work.

Maybe it all means relatively little. But it’s been an intriguing pattern to “just notice” … and I doubt I am alone. Basic choices influencing basic attitudes. Not necessarily a “new” concept here, but fun to consider.

Hmmm. I wonder what would happen if I rode my bike and listened to folk tunes?

A Hard Day's Work

Well - here goes my ability to make all of you out there feel sorry for my hectic, stressful work life. This is me - on location in Orlando and, believe it or not, I am actually working.

That's right. Riding a Caro-Seuss-el and working.

Being in Orlando to complete the pre Gathering DVD shoot has its rewards, I suppose. One of which was herding my DVD talent - a crew of very high energy LCMS teens and young adults - to Islands of Adventure at the end of the week's work to celebrate and say "thanks" to this core of kids who shot this sucker not just ONCE, but twice.

Our first take was in New Orleans this past summer ...

Probably one of THE best parts of my work with the YMO is the chance to be with such outstanding youth from so many different backgrounds. What a terrific future we have - what an awesome present we have - it's a good thing.

I hope you all are enjoying this Snowy Day of Spring out there across the Mid West and beyond!

Peace!

Gretchen (& Leon, too!)