Retired, not retarded

Having left my employment last year, I’m not sure what to say when people ask me “what do you do?” To explain that I do all sorts of things, thinking, reading, writing, volunteering in a school, dog-walking, not to mention being a working board member of two family companies would be too tedious for a first introduction to someone I have never met before.

I simply won’t refer to myself as retired. Retired – as in withdrawn, stepped down, left – in my mind suggests someone who is out of it and no longer really a part of life, at least not a life that counts. And what is a life that counts? I have a feeling that, for many, it means the life of a working person, someone who has a job to go to. Do I believe that? Well, it is true that my profession, and my work, have been very important aspects of my life; leaving my employment has without doubt been a major change in my life. But it’s not me that has changed – and I don’t feel retired! I’m the same person as I was a year ago, with the same personality and interests. There may be another wrinkle, or two, but my brain and body still function as they should. And I have the same experience and competence as when I was the director and CEO leading an international scientific organisation of 100+ people.

So what are the alternatives to ‘retired’? I don’t like the word pensioner either. It is true that I now receive a pension (hurrah!), but, like retired, the word does not say anything about who I am and what I do now. I’ve thought of saying “I’m an old bat” when I introduce myself, but maybe someone would then think it was me who started the covid pandemic, so that’s out. And talking about oneself as ex-Director or former CEO sounds pretentious, like someone who tries to rub some glory from the past to their new situation (although I do admit that I initially put something like that in my LinkedIn profile, where a slightly embellished positioning of oneself is comme-il-faut – a bit pathetic to fall into that trap, really).

Maybe I should reply “do you really want to know?” if someone asks me what I do. But I suppose that would just cause embarrassment, me taking literally a question that is just a phrase, a matter of politeness. It’s like blurting out one’s whole medical history when someone says ‘how are you’? They really don’t want to know.

My feelings of slight awkwardness around all this, I suppose, has not so much to do with what is actually said in a first exchange between two strangers, it is an expression of a genuine fear to be regarded as irrelevant, redundant. I have left my job, but I have not retired from life. I want to continue to be a useful and active contributor to society for as long as I can, but I have noticed that in my part of the world older people are seen mainly as a burden, not a resource, and that worries me.

Titles and positions are not what I’m interested in when I meet new people, what I want to know is what experiences they have, and what their interests are. What drives them and motivates them? What do they want to achieve? How can we work together to fulfil ambitions?

Likewise, I want to be seen as Marie, a person, not just a role, but someone who can still play a role. For those who are genuinely interested, I’d be happy to tell them more about who I am, what I think and what I can do.