You have a client visit at 9:00. An associate stops by at 10:00. At 10:30 accounting calls with a problem that needs your attention.
Tomorrow, all those calls stop.
Why? You retired.
Years ago, a company I was with got acquired. In the process, some of the people I truly called friends were let go. Most of them were at a point in life — financially and professionally — where they chose to retire rather than land somewhere new.
I kept up with them. And early on I asked what they missed most about work.
The most common answer was the people. That made complete sense.
But one answer surprised me. They missed the problems.
The very thing many of them had been quietly counting down to escape became one of the things they missed most. Not the politics. Not the pressure. But the problems — the real ones, the ones that required them to think, to decide, to act.
It took me a while to understand why.
Problems are what made the phone ring. Problems were why you were in the room. Problems were the reason a client called at 9:00, an associate stopped by at 10:00, and accounting needed you at 10:30.
You weren’t just a title. You were someone worth calling because you could actually help.
And when the role ends, that stops too. Not gradually. Pretty much all at once.
Most men spend years preparing financially for retirement or a major transition. Very few prepare for the morning the calendar goes quiet and nobody needs anything from them.
I’m not sure what problems are sitting on your desk today. But it might be worth imagining, just for a moment, a life without them.
A break sounds good. A permanent absence of them is something else entirely.
The network you’ve built over a career isn’t just relationships. It’s a world that runs on problems — yours and theirs. When the role changes, so does your place in it. And most men don’t see it coming until they’re already standing outside it.
That’s worth thinking about before the calls stop. Not after.
You have a client visit at 9:00. An associate stops by at 10:00. At 10:30 accounting calls with a problem that needs your attention.
Tomorrow, all those calls stop.
Why? You retired.
Years ago, a company I was with got acquired. In the process, some of the people I truly called friends were let go. Most of them were at a point in life — financially and professionally — where they chose to retire rather than land somewhere new.
I kept up with them. And early on I asked what they missed most about work.
The most common answer was the people. That made complete sense.
But one answer surprised me. They missed the problems.
The very thing many of them had been quietly counting down to escape became one of the things they missed most. Not the politics. Not the pressure. But the problems — the real ones, the ones that required them to think, to decide, to act.
It took me a while to understand why.
Problems are what made the phone ring. Problems were why you were in the room. Problems were the reason a client called at 9:00, an associate stopped by at 10:00, and accounting needed you at 10:30.
You weren’t just a title. You were someone worth calling because you could actually help.
And when the role ends, that stops too. Not gradually. Pretty much all at once.
Most men spend years preparing financially for retirement or a major transition. Very few prepare for the morning the calendar goes quiet and nobody needs anything from them.
I’m not sure what problems are sitting on your desk today. But it might be worth imagining, just for a moment, a life without them.
A break sounds good. A permanent absence of them is something else entirely.
The network you’ve built over a career isn’t just relationships. It’s a world that runs on problems — yours and theirs. When the role changes, so does your place in it. And most men don’t see it coming until they’re already standing outside it.
That’s worth thinking about before the calls stop. Not after.