I’ve always been opinionated and have a well-documented history of wanting to be right and willing to prove it, but now I find myself deep in the ease of retirement, enjoying the simple pleasures of disengagement.
Every time I get a desire to weigh in on some burning issue, I think, “What good would come of that?” Sometimes I’ll say something anyway, and I almost always regret it. Lately, I’ve gotten better at saying less, and you know what? Life goes on.
For example … I saw a LinkedIn post about safety in the workplace. The author said, “Too often, safety is the privilege of a few – not a right enjoyed equitably by all.” Somebody commented there was no correlation between safety and privilege, and I was about to jump on it, explaining, for example, how women are not safe in the same situations (walking alone at night, a hotel room on the ground floor) where white male privilege somewhat shields them from the same fears.
Then I asked myself that important question. What good would come of that? I stayed out of it, and when I went back later to see what transpired, that person’s comment had been deleted. Time marched on without my input.
Last week, I mentioned to a golf buddy that California was currently lowest in COVID cases in the continental United States. A full week later, he tracked me down in the parking lot to show me statistics he pulled up on his cell phone clearly showing California had the highest number of cases in the U.S.
OK. Got me, except I said currently not cumulative, but c-words are tricksy. And maybe I misread something. Who knows? I opted for the quick escape, “Oh, interesting, thanks!”
For a third example, I begrudgingly attended a golf rules clinic, because golf is all about the rules. I only want to know enough to avoid someone else giving me a bunch of crap because I did something wrong. However, in my infinite stupidity, I mentioned to another golf buddy that I attended a rules clinic.
He asked if I learned anything. I said, yes, lots, but it’s hard to remember them all. Oh, but sure, let me dig for an enticing tidbit.
Yay! Here it is! Fresh off the memory merry-go-round!
One surprising thing was about teeing your ball up in the teeing area. If you purposefully make a swing at the ball, and it dribbles off the tee but remains in the teeing area as defined by the rules of golf, you count the stroke, but you can still tee it up for your next shot.
No, that’s not true.
Well, I probably got it wrong. It was a lot to process. All I know for sure is there was a difference between if the ball stays in the teeing area or rolls out of the teeing area.
But you said you get to tee it up.
Yes, but I retracted that comment. Now I’m saying I don’t know.
That seemed to satisfy him, but when I got home, I looked it up. As it turns out, I was right, and I started to copy the rule and text it to him for his further edification. But what did I do instead? I asked myself a simple question. Say it with me.
What good would come of that?
Because I am not a rules expert and don’t aspire to be one. Why would I set myself up for that argument? My regret is bringing it up in the first place. And even if I were to make this mistake again, there’s still an exit strategy. When he asks me what I learned, I say, “You know, I can’t recall.” And then I laugh. We all laugh. Because the rules of golf suck.
The final reusable straw came this week over food. The website Epicurious will no longer post new recipes using beef because of the impact cows and beef consumption have on climate change. I started to go down the slippery slope of engagement, when I read through all the comments on the New York Times article.
As is often the case, there are more than two sides, and I can pretty much understand each perspective. But anything I might have said has already been said. Plus, not everyone is as genteel and reasoned as I, and the discourse can be quite snarky.
Who needs that? I know there are important issues that will sometimes demand I step up and take a stance. And I’ll do it. But most of the time, my presence is not required.
In the meantime, I’ll just kick back and work on improving my retirement skillset – blissful disengagement.
As a 2-year retiree, I have been loving your blog. You often seem to be a couple of steps ahead of me in adjusting to retirement, as in today’s example. I still, unfortunately, often choose to engage. Retirement is a learning experience and it’s good to learn from a pro!
Thank you so much. I’m delighted to meet you! Another Donna — I always say they’re not making Donnas anymore.
Very wise, Donna. I try to practice the same restraint although sometimes people make it very difficult. But then I remember the old adage of the futility of casting pearls before swine and that helps…a lot. LOL!!!
Deb
My restraint seems to improve with practice. Then there’s the whole pearls before swine thing. So true!
Oh my Gato, I may not have anything to say ever.
BTW, today marks one year since I left my computer, cell phone, and badge on my desk and drove out.
That might be my new mantra — nothing to say ever. Perfect.
Congratulations on the one-year mark. I worked with a hilarious guy when I was in Texas, and at his retirement party, he requested they show this excerpt from the old TV show, Branded. A must see:
Perfect! Yes, that was me leaving.
This philosophy also makes life calmer when used with one’s grown children.
Ah, I can see that. Perhaps siblings, too?
I try to avoid the silly discussions also by staying quiet. This topic reminds me of the old saying “Never argue with a fool because you don’t know who is watching and they can’t tell the difference”.
Excellent. I wish I had discovered the joys of silence a little sooner, but it’s never too late, I guess.
I love blissful disengagement!! It’s easy for me because I find there are very few things I care that much about anymore. Is that bad? Well, except for the crazy people that won’t get vaccinated.
I think I was conditioned growing up as I had a mother who knew everything and was always right. I got tired of sharing my own opinions. Plus I’m not much of a debater.
I don’t think it’s bad at all! I pretty much feel the same way. Although I was very much the debater, I no longer feel so compelled to share my opinions. It’s like, whatever, just let me live in peace. Although I’m with you on the vaccinations.
The other thing I think changes the dynamics is being retired. I sort of felt compelled to prove how smart I was to stay employed. Now I have nothing to prove.
I love having nothing to prove!!! 😉
Other than this here blog, I haven’t commented on any blog for years and years and never much ever. Then coupla weeks ago I did, on a blog which I’ve mostly enjoyed reading through the years, and on which I never had commented before. The discussion was over whether “introverts” had the right to tell talkative B&B owners, in whose very homes they are staying, straight up not to talk to them because they don’t like it. I thought manners should enter into it.
OMG.
What I didn’t know was that other commenters on that particular blog get to hound you for weeks, screaming and yelling (just so “introverted”) right into your email inbox somehow, every one of them seeming more irrational than the next in their thinking. Which boiled down to: others need to be the way I want them to, but I refuse to care what they might like from me. This is ironic because the blog is for members of the “rationalist community”, kid you not. Full disclosure, I don’t think humans are ever rational even though I am forever seeking to make sense of things. (It’s a problem that my brother thinks he’s a chicken, but I need the eggs!) Anyway, by the second week, there was only one last mail flaming me, I didn’t dread opening my computer each morning, and I was definitely thinking, Well, no good came of that. I can’t say I learned my lesson if I’m here commenting on…commenting! Irony. Runs tire tracks over rationality every time.
How great to hear from you! I hope your travels went well.
So, about the rationalist community. Maybe much of the world is post-rational. However, I do think readers here are kind, smart, funny and yes, rational. Thank you all!!!!!!
I was remaining blissfully disengaged and not going to comment, but then I remembered how much I appreciated it when people told me they liked something I had done (extremely rare as I worked in HR). I don’t comment anymore on things I disagree with or know need to be “corrected” and am so much calmer for it. I ask myself “what will it change?” and the answer these days is most always “nothing at all.” One example – I’ve been hiking with a neighbor since the pandemic began and we have not discussed politics – not even once. I suspect her opinions in that area are opposite of mine, so it’s just not worth disrupting our time in nature to go there. It’s been a great escape. Thanks for another great post.
Exactly. For me, it took some practice, but now it’s pretty easy to just keep my mouth shut. HR, I mean, you know where the bodies are buried, so it seems to me you’d be better at this than a professional blabbermouth (Comms).