After EMS: Retirement Boss
By Mike Rubin
It’s a frigid February in Tennessee and I’m just as retired as I was last month. Bummer. Do people still say that?
I’m trying to keep up with trends—eggs more expensive than insulin, potholes the size of kiddie pools, a molting federal government—but my own advancing decrepitude is a bigger concern. It’s getting harder to track stuff retirees should know. Are men done wearing ties? Can self-driving cars feel road rage? Will we need a vaccine for raw milk?
I wish I could call someone smart and kind enough to answer innocent questions like those without making me feel even less coherent. I’m talking about a single point of contact for advice on health, wealth, walk-in tubs—whatever. If you’re at an age where your next home improvement is handrails, you know what I mean.
What we need is a Department of Retirement. Sure, it’s hard to add federal agencies when so many are disappearing, but I have a solution: Staff the retirement department with retirees. We wouldn’t be paid. And we’d work at home, so there’s no heat, light, rent, or Taco Tuesdays to subsidize.
Notice I’m including myself in this venture. If that sounds like I’m seeking a higher profile and perhaps even a chance encounter with greatness, you caught me. I want to run retirement—not just mine, but everyone’s. It’s either that or learn to play the guitar.
I wouldn’t be the worst political appointee. I can barter with the big boys. Also with the big girls, but that’s another story. The point is, I have lots of experience convincing people to do things. Just ask my grandkids.
On my first day in office, I’d make early retirement available to workers of all ages. We’d pay for that by selling surplus office furniture.
On my second day, I’d rename Emergency! to EMERGENCY!!!, then change Station 51 to Station 50 in honor of every state except Canada.
On other days, I’d either sleep in or write about:
- Social Security and Medicare. These are scary times for those who rely on age-related assistance. Are we entitled to it? I guess that depends on who’s in charge. Know your options and how to file for them. More on that in an upcoming column.
- Finances. Y’all should budget, whether you’re retired or not. It’s not hard. Estimate what you have, what you earn, and what you spend. If your expenses are greater than your income and you don’t want to drain your savings, change your buying habits. I have spreadsheets to help with that. Or you could do it by hand. The most important part is to be realistic about what you can afford.
- Self-reliance vs. companionship. Which do you think you’d prefer in retirement? I’m asking because they’re hard to mix. Self-reliance may feel good after years of being told what to do by employers or family members, but I haven’t known anyone who wanted to live alone indefinitely. According to Psychology Today, loneliness can lead to withdrawal, anger, depression, suicidal thoughts, and even cardiovascular disease. Helen and I both have independent streaks, but we’ve pulled together to confront aging as a couple.
- Mutual respect. I feel like I’m working harder than ever to gain respect from much younger folks and give it back. Sometimes it’s as if we have so little in common, the challenges of understanding and being understood almost aren’t worth the effort. If I could, I’d offer my junior associates this deal: Let’s not assume we know what each other wants or thinks. Let’s be patient and learn.
I’ve been downsizing. I moved all my pre-Millennial manuscripts to the attic, cut the patches off my last EMS jacket that fits, and threw out any protocols calling for thump pacing. My mind is right. I’m ready to lead my fellow un-workers to big, beautiful retirement, the likes of which you’ve never seen.
Mike’s Exit Poll #3: What’s the most memorable public gathering you’ve attended?
Mine was a Manhattan anti-war march down Broadway in 1972. I wasn’t anti-war (or pro-war)—just a 19-year-old college kid trying to meet co-eds. At 96th street, someone in front threw a rock at a bank window. I’m not sure why. Then other marchers did the same. Apparently, this was planned. Police posted in front of targeted buildings sprinted toward our tie-dyed, bell-bottomed crowd with fear and hate in their eyes. Who could blame them?
When cops with upraised nightsticks are charging, you run crazy fast. I was lucky to escape. Two decades later, I discovered EMS—a much better place to meet people, especially my wife.
Mike Rubin is a retired paramedic and the author of Life Support, a collection of EMS stories. Contact Mike at mgr22@prodigy.net.
