I was chatting with a woman at a fundraiser about her career at our local university. She described several roles she’d played. “Wow,” I said. “You must have been there quite a while.”
“Thirty-one years,” she said. By the tone in her voice, it was clear she felt that amount of time was significant, meaningful, and also fully justified her decision to retire.
I’ve been hearing that number a lot lately, from friends in various fields and professions who are thinking about quitting, retiring, or switching jobs. “I’ve put in my 30 years,” they say, and they make it sound like such a long time!
I’m thinking about all of this because next week marks my 30th anniversary as a professional writer and self-employed entrepreneur. Earlier this year, I’d been looking forward to marking that date as a badge of honor. What a long time to hang in there in such a difficult, demanding, underpaid field.
As the date approaches, though, I’ve started thinking about the life cycle of work and art. My husband labors in corporate America where, for a long time now, the goal has been to put in your 30 years, take your gold watch, and ride off into the sunset. There’s an understanding that the company will go on without you. That even CEOs are eventually forgotten. Work hard, retire, and have fun. That’s the goal.
