by G. W. Faust
In 1969 at the ripe old age of 31, folk singer and social activist Phil Ochs released a new album called “Rehearsals for Retirement.” Apparently he had decided to retire from the folk music scene to concentrate more on country music and early rock and roll as exemplified by Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley.To this end, he also started performing in concerts in a gold lame suit, a la his one time idol, Elvis. As you might’ve guessed, this did not end well. His audience vehemently rejected his new image and his record sales (which were never great to begin with) quickly nosedived.
A sold out concert at Carnegie Hall in 1970 also went terribly awry and resulted in his being banned from the famous concert hall forever. Unfortunately, Phil never got to enjoy a real retirement as he was soon gone from the earth by his own hand at the all-too-early age of 35.
In 2012, at the ripe old age of 63, the media company I worked for decided to retire me by eliminating my managerial position, as well as my entire department effectively putting 75 people out of work. No one was spared.
Apparently, the thinking was that it would cost much less to run my department out of the great state of North Carolina than in New York City, where I have resided for the last 40 years. To be honest, I couldn’t disagree with their logic or math.
In reality, it wouldn’t have mattered if I did, as things had already been decided. So on a very cold morning in February, I came to work at 8 a.m. but at 8:45 a.m. was promptly visited and sent packing by the head of Human Resources,
accompanied by a regional VP.
“You can clean out your desk if you wish,” I was politely told by her. “Thank you, I will,” I replied.
Everyone was quite cordial and the process was very efficient. Our conversation probably only lasted about ten minutes.
After 20 years with the company in various managerial positions, I was ushered out the door while holding a box of my personal possessions in hand. A very strange feeling! I would find out later that I was the first of many individuals who would
lose their job that day.
For two years I looked for another full-time position in my field and for awhile things looked promising. However, one by one, actual job offers didn’t materialize. Real long-range career opportunities to apply for started to become few and far between while I grew a little older each year. Finally, one day after turned 65, I realized my career, such as it was, was over. I was retired now, more or less, and without any rehearsals. Part-time work would have to suffice if I wanted to supplement my social security and pension.
There were several minimum wage part-time jobs that would come my way in the months that followed. At the urging of your fearless editor, I’d like to share my adventures with you.
I’ve decided to call this column “Rehearsals for Retirement” because it has a catchy ring to it. It will be about life after retirement — something I never gave too much thought about when I was working full time for over 40 years. I’ve always loved the music and lyrics of Phil Ochs. I was fortunate enough to see him perform live and in person on New Year’s Eve, 1974 at a small club here in NYC. At midnight, along with the legendary Patti Smith and Abbie Hoffman (who came popping out of the audience), he sang an amazing version of Auld Lang Syne that I’ll never forget. Unfortunately, he also wore that damn gold lame suit.
“So good to be alive when the eulogy is read,” from “The Crucifixion.”
