Retirement Relapse

Where have I been since October 21, 2009--the date of my last blog. I have been in retirement relapse--or in more understandable terms--I've been working. Working?! After looking so forward to retirement why would I ever go back to work? Let me explain.

On a lark, I decided to work for chocolate--not money--at a friend's cottage industry chocolate company. Handmade fine chocolates. All the time, all day, day in and day out. Chocolate here and chocolate there. Oh, just the smells have calories. Yummmmm.

Needless to say, my job was primarily gofer. I filled bags with novelties and tied little tiny bows around the bags--ouch! my arthritic fingers! I filled little trays with four pieces of lucious, mouth-watering morsels of delight that each I had put in those cute brown fluted thingees. (The trays and thingees have "industry" names that I have promptly forgotten.) I then filled one pound and two pound boxes with chocolates in predetermined slots. After the boxes were filled, I then wrapped--again my arthritic thumbs especially gave me trouble. And did I mention that 90% of the jobs I did were standing up--for 3 or 4 hours at a time.

The nice thing about manual labor is that one's brain is allowed to wander--and wonder--about all sorts of things. I thought often of my mother and grandmother who worked long hours in New Bedford textile mills in the 30s and 40s. The heyday of the New England textile industry whose exploitation of the working girl has been well documented.

Filling boxes required picking pieces standing before a huge electric wheel that held the wonderous treats. One for the box, one for me. We were allowed to eat all the chocolates we wanted, and I now know why this rule applies--even chocolate can become nauseating! Did I say that out loud? And am I serious? Yes. Too much of a good thing can become tedious, nauseating, and definitely , well, too much. At first I had to try the various varieties. I soon found my favorites and munched solely on those over the course of my holiday work. The first day I think I ate about 6 pieces in my 4 hour shift. As the days went by, I think I ate about 4 pieces--an average of one piece per hour. That seemed to be my comfort level but by the end of my chocolate gig at Christmas, I could go 3 hours with nary a piece crossing my lips.

My friends and family shared in my largess--my chocolate wages. A few times a week, I would add my work hours and at minimum wage calculate how much chocolate I was due and "buy" pounds of the delicious stuff to share as gifts to almost anybody who knows my name.

Being a competitve person and complicated work-a-holic, no job is too small for me to have to do it 110%. I was competing against myself. How many boxes could I fill in an hour? How many could I wrap (according to a very specific model) in a half hour. I think I was pretty good at my job. No pee breaks; no rest breaks; no texting breaks-- constant work in filling, wrapping, storing boxes of chocolates--with the occasional ingestion.

I worked with a couple of young college students, one in particular who texted about a third of the time I saw her. She was not a multi-tasking person. When she texted, she did not work. I hope it follows that when she texts she does not drive.

After a short break at Christmas, it turned out my former real job needed me to fill in for a while. That continues as I write and looks like it may go another month or so. I am "volunteering" at this job. No pay, not even chocolates. The new Executive Director is in charge and I am just filling in with some grunt work. Do I mind? No, not really. The reason is a very good one that I cannot share because it's personal, but I really volunteered to "volunteer" and it's only a few hours a week.

It does feel a little odd, but I look at it as helping a friend in need. I try to keep my mouth shut because nothing is as it was. And, I really am okay with that. Sort of. Of course, I think I did it all better, but that's just one woman's opinion. And I have moved on. Sort of.

So, that's my "retirement relapse." I retired in September, am involved in three different on-going groups in my community, and still have time to "work." The difference, I think, between really working and working after retirement is the stress level. I have no stress! Isn't that wonderful. It may be the chocolate...and I've been called back for the Easter rush. Hmmmmm....now that I know my favorites, how many chocolates can I eat in the three weeks I'll be working?