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The End of the Road

Retirement Revisited

By Barb DukemanPublished 3 years ago 17 min read
Top Story - July 2021
12

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”

-T.S. Eliot

It was one of Bridget’s favorite quotes, and she thought fondly about the first time she read those lines many years ago from a client, the farewell card now boxed up with other personal items and occupational tchotchkes. In her time at that company, she’d worked with thousands of clients; some were more enjoyably memorable than others, and others would take years of therapy to forget. As the longest-employed female in the company, she thought about the final countdown to her new beginning, new seasons in the sun, which were about to appear before her, a well-worn path over the hill we climb.

Curiously, one of her bosses, Jess, watched her cut the cake beside a Boston creme pie, Bridget’s favorite; there’s always room for pie. Looking at the decadent Publix creation, Bridget murmured aloud with muted enthusiasm, “It’s a great cake. Let’s get it started.” She drew the knife across the chocolate rectangle with “Congradulations” misspelled on the top, three lines lengthwise, seven lines across the width. From the way it was cut, the cake was divided into thirty-two pieces. Each piece was a little different from the other, with particolored bits of frosting, marbled centers, odd sizes, and edges that were either clean or messy. Just like my years in accounting, she mused. Little paper plates adorned with blue diamonds on a green field were piled on top of each other waiting to be used. She set the silver knife down, and with the pie server she served up as many pieces of the cake she could make room for on the small serving table. Next to the luscious desserts were gift bags, presents, and cards in a decorated box; a tethered red balloon floated outside with a ribbon attached to the doorknob.

After she set aside the first piece, she stepped back to let the others have a piece, took a fork, and moved on up to the other side of the long table decorated with the same diamonds as were on the plates. The whole bookkeeping department from the firm was there to share their memories of Bridget’s days on the job and offered advice for the future, know their time would come soon enough. Memories both poignant and amusing filled her career, and she was reminded of just how long she’d been there. Even an old pal, Dory, sent her a note to “keep on swimming.” She poured herself a strong one and sat down, listening to what the others had to say.

Once everyone was seated, conversations flowed. “Been a long time, hasn’t it,” Emily asked from across the table full of chit-chat. “How long has it been?”

Bridget laughed. “Yes, sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago.” She paused, counting down the years in her mind. “Twenty-nine years at this firm, and three at that other company we won’t mention. Thirty-two total,” she smiled. “But of course, you know how to add.”

She took a bite of the cake, bittersweet, and thought about that lifetime. Time was counted, measured, notated, and consumed by everything in her life. Calendars and clocks ruled the days. Sometimes after ticking away the moments that make up a dull day she found herself at closing time, not remembering how it got dark outside already. Swiftly fly the years, one season following another, laden with projects, meetings, spreadsheets, and trainings. At first it felt like lost souls in endless time without any light at the end of the tunnel. Her cousin, Kyle Carpenter, after all he experienced during his time in Afghanistan, inspired her with his quote:

“I want to show people no matter what they go through there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Not a train. Of course, there were those individual days that stretched on forever with speedbumps along the way, bringing headaches and heartache, days in which she contemplated closing the ledger books for good and going back to retail. Sputtering along, though, she spent the litany of days carefully and patiently moving forward, helping various clients find overdue respite along the way.

Matthias, once a client and now a friend, had been right from day one about her last project. “Your voice will be missed; you shared your heart and soul with your clients and never worried what they might think.” He was one of the smarter ones she worked with, astute and driven. “Your sense of humor is subtle, but I could tell when you were zinging someone. It was hilarious.” Bridget smiled. “Some of your clients just didn’t appreciate your work. Their loss, their regrets.”

Caitlynn and Viv sat in the cubicles near Matthias; they oversaw accounts payable. Where you saw one, you always saw the other like twins joined at the hip. Caitlynn, always the curious one of the two, directed a question to Bridget, “I just gotta ask you - were you the one in charge of the ongoing data analysis project for the debt consolidation agency? I figured there’d be a giant reveal at the end because we didn’t know who was heading it.”

“Like a balloon with blue powder in it?” Bridget giggled. “I thought I’d tell you two about it up front, but I figured it was better waiting for the end. I never had a chance to undertake a project like this before, and I wanted to make sure it went well.”

Joe asked, “Will you still stay in town? We still want to invite you to our breakfasts on the Hill when we go over our quarterlies.” Joe, the newest intern to the organization, brought effusive enthusiasm that had started to wane within her, giving her the clue it was time to move on. She remembered the excitement landing her first job with the competitor; it was an uneven, rocky start, but she had started her career. She was glad that Joe was motivated to do well in this company, even if he was moved to other departments as needed. He was once a client here as well, and then he decided to join the team. That kind of energy and focus would get him far in life. She kept track of her interns – Gracen, Tori, Helen, Kevin, George, Alyssa – watching them make it or break it in their careers.

Bridget reassured him, “I’m not moving…yet. You guys have my number so you can call me or text me any time you get stuck. I might be able to recover stuff from the flash drive.”

“I just got here, and now you’re going. Was it something I said?” Brenden joked. “You really have helped a lot with the online ledgers.” In his short time there, he felt there was something different about this retirement. Energy transfused throughout the room.

Shannon chimed in, “We’ll certainly be missing you. This place won’t be same without your smile and can-do attitude.”

Oh, sure it will be, Bridget thought. Employees are a dime a dozen, cheaper by the dozen in some states. She remembered the admonishments and censures, the accomplishments and accolades, the sum total involved over her long career. Who could forget, she thought, when they took the boss’s desk and held it for ransom? Or the time she ran into and broke a door because she was racing another employee out on a Friday? Or the time part of the men’s bathroom blew up? Or the reply-to-all incident? The number of good times far outweighed the bad.

She’d done practically everything asked of her, and then she’d volunteer for something else – definitely had a problem with saying “No.” She compiled Standard Operation Manuals, gave presentations, mentored new accountants, and worked with marketing to attract more clients. She took required trainings, optional trainings, and created trainings of her own. Anytime she had a chance to share her experience made her happy.

“Luckily I’ve already worked with someone to take over my position. I put everything she needs in a few filing cabinets and boxes.” Years of experience, however, didn’t fit in any of the drawers or boxes. Bridget picked at her cake, flicking pieces across her plate. She thought about the direction her life was now headed, a long and winding road, one without GPS or OnStar. Both excited and frightened, she felt giddy about this new future.

“She sure has,” Lisa piped up. “I’m ready for it. You’ve been a great mentor these past nine years. Thank you for being a friend.” She and Thomas raised a toast, “May your dreams be realized. Here’s to you having many more years of happiness!”

Bridget smiled, raised her glass, and whispered, “So may you all.”

Jessica looked up and asked, “What exciting plans do you have now that you’re done? You probably don’t want to see numbers anymore.” Bridget hadn’t fully thought that through. Many avenues had now opened for her, and she didn’t know where she’d venture first, somewhere far from credits, debits, and numbers. She knew she first wanted to reach the beach, the water of the Gulf stretched out, gleaming with the million lights of the sun. “Maybe down South for a bit.” A Beach Boy song played around in her head. “Spend some time in Marathon or the Florida Keys; that’s where I want to go to get away from it all. Where everybody’s free to wear sunscreen. And really should.” She wouldn’t miss the traffic congestion, the new condos, the booming town she lived in that was once full of desolate horizons. She longed for a drink in her hand, toes in the sand and being a bum in the sun. She wanted to see things and places missed holding back the years; things she set aside for the future. “Perhaps Destin. I’ve heard they have the nicest beaches.”

“Overrated,” Maria said. “It’s not the same as it used to be. That town’s been destroyed by too many storms.”

Bridget rolled that comment over in her head and thought of a quote by Roy Bennett:

“Storms make people stronger and never last forever.”

She remembered how she’d been at work for only five years before her first storm hit; losing a baby nearly destroyed her. She also recalled how her co-workers helped her, some she had never met before, supported her, and made her realize she’d never walk alone. Long past was a lost year of numbing tragedy, mistaken blame, kept secret all these years; working with her clients’ accounts helped her focus on the present. The outpouring of sympathy when her parents died, her darkest days illuminated by friends who most understood and helped her through this rite of passage. These fleeting moments made her stronger than ever. This was the one part of the job she’d miss. Her co-workers had become her extended family now, the ones she could depend on for a lift or a laugh, and she felt as if she were deserting them, moving out.

“How about up north or out west, or Europe?” Stephanie asked. “Travel is so fulfilling.” Stephanie was the world traveler at the table. “And I’d go again in a heartbeat. But I’ve got a long time, a long way to go here before I can travel again. I’d love to go back to Germany.”

“I hope you use more of your BlueGreen. I’m glad you bought into it,” Mimi added. “We try to vacation at least once a year. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Jamie added, “Would you rather visit the US, or other parts of the world? I’ve read about many exotic countries that are cheap enough to visit. Maybe somewhere like Costa Rica or Tahiti. Bali Ha’i may call you. Oh, the places you’ll go.”

Amber said, “It’s going to be a very long vacation. An endless summer for you. I’m kinda jealous you’ll get to travel.”

Travel. Traveling to other countries and large cities can be so dangerous. Henry Miller wrote:

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”

He, however, didn’t live in today’s world when he penned that. A couple of years ago a young woman was murdered in Aruba. Taxi drivers in Egypt have gotten into many fatal accidents purposefully. Israel is out of the question. People have drowned in Costa Rica because lifeguards aren’t required on their beaches. Large cities such as New York, London, Paris, Munich all reported high numbers of tourist deaths, not to mention the hostilities in the Middle East that make Americans easy targets. No, thank you, she thought to herself. I’ll stick to Tulsa, Austin, Oklahoma City, Seattle, San Francisco.

Jess signaled to Bridget and asked to speak with her a moment. “Seriously, are you going to be ok? You look so sad instead of enjoying the celebration. Life is a highway.” Though she hadn’t worked at this company long, and her genuine concern opened the floodgates. “You’ve only just begun.”

Tears beginning to fall, Bridget replied, “This place defined me. It was my happy place, my safe place. Accounting is who I am. I’ve done so many things for this organization, and I feel like I’m part of its lifeblood.” She wiped her eyes unceremoniously with her shirt. “I wanna leave the past and live just for today. Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad to be going, but I feel as if I’m leaving something behind. Some long-forgotten client or account.”

Jess smiled. “You are, but it’s not a client. You are leaving behind a great legacy. Your guidance, your leadership, your crazy sense of humor, your belief that everyone can be helped remain. You’ve influenced many employees around here over the years. That in turn helped others. It’s like that pebble – drop a pebble in the water: just a splash, and it’s gone. But there are half a hundred ripples circling around. You never know how far the rings will go. You’ve touched the future.” Jess touched Bridget’s arm gently. “Think of the thousands of clients you’ve pushed to invest, and now they’re celebrating as they reap the rewards, too.” Her eyes started to leak a little. “And there’s no chance to be forgotten.”

When she said that, Bridget thought of the movie Coco when Hector says,

“If there’s no one left in the living world to remember you, you disappear from this world.”

A deep fear she held. Even though that movie reference was between the world of death and eternal oblivion, it touched her soul just the same. She worried that after a few years, no one would remember her name, her influence, her years of hard work. “I hope so. If not,” she paused, “I still have many roads to travel, new friends to make, and new adventures to embark on. It’s a brave new world. It’s time I take that road less traveled and see what a difference it makes.”

The group started calling out, “Speech! Speech!”

Bridget pivoted and faced her group of friends waiting for the expected parting message. The dreaded final speech. She cleared her throat and began. “I had a treatise written down, but it seems useless now. For the first time I truly don’t know what to say.” The group chuckled. “It’s a song without words, but that’s minor. There’ll be good times, there’ll be bad times. And in time, time may fade away.” She paused, trying to form the next thoughts in her mind. “You’ve all touched my heart; goodbye seems to be the hardest word.” She looked around the room, capturing faces on her mental Kodachrome. “But as you know, I am not going gently into that good night. I have enough gas, and I’m ready for the next destination, whatever it may be. Thank you for sharing this wonderful journey with me. With a little help from my friends,” she continued, “I can do anything.” Her friends clapped and nodded, then snapped last minute photos and selfies with her.

With that, she left the room by herself with a box of various things under her arm, leaving her coterie of co-workers to clean up. She gazed momentarily at the bright balloon tied to the door and decided it wanted to break free; she released the ribbon and watched the balloon spiral up and away as she walked down the sidewalk she’d walked a thousand times. She put the last of her new treasures in her trunk beside the one box of photographs and memories she wanted to keep. Bridget returned to the building, to her corner office now empty, bare, and quiet. Not wanting to be seen crying, she made sure to turn off the light and closed the door for the last time. She dreamt about going out with a bang, not a whimper; this was not the case.

“O Captain, my captain.”

Bridget froze; she recognized that phrase, but she hadn’t heard those words used in reference to her before. It was also long after hours. She turned around to see who it was. It was Jay, one her former clients, along with her friend Kat, with cards in hand. “Oh my god, it’s so great to see you again!”

They hugged and exchanged pleasantries, and Jay told her, “We just wanted to see you before you left. I don’t think you realize what an influence you had on us, all of us; we just wanted to say thanks.” Jay lit up, “I remember all the things you told us about. I use your advice now daily. It’s because of you I went into this career.”

“Bookkeeping?” Bridge laughed.

Kat agreed. “When I thought it wasn’t possible, you told me I could do it. So I did, and I love what I do. I haven’t regretted a moment, even if I’m in another department. You should see where I work now. It’s amazing. So organized. And my manager is great.”

Bridget smiled and said, “Thank you.” She accepted the cards and replied, “When you get the chance, share what I did for you and you’ll find people like us.”

After some good-bye hugs, she excused herself and reflected on what they said. She realized at that moment what she did mattered, even if was just being a bookkeeper. If not to all, to at least these two; there must be others. Even when the world beat her down, she continued to “do good” as her old colleague Dr. Marsh used to say, taking one day at a time and treating each client with respect because they mattered. Caryn, who was the first to show her how intricate bookkeeping can be, taught her that jobs like these can affect the future. Although it was a national company, her branch had the best employees, she surmised. Every account in the black, every client taken care of, everyone alone together on the precipice.

Bridget turned to take one more look at the place where she spent more than half her life, and wistfully waved a final goodbye. Every cubicle, office, and hallway held memories. How silly, she thought, to wave to a building now, mostly deserted. A soft breeze carried her thoughts away like the smell of palm trees and coconuts.

“It is always a great honor to be the driver of your own car, to be the boss of your own fate!”

-Mehmet Murat ildan

With her keys in hand, she climbed into her yellow car and tuned in to the perfect playlist. She figured it was 5:00 somewhere, and she wanted to be there. The slow pace of her car took her out of the parking lot that Friday for the last time on the company’s dime, that huge gray brick building in her rear view mirror. She’d miss them but knew it was time to go home. “Carry On My Wayward Son” resounded from the speakers, and she took the wheel to her future, destination unknown.

Humor
12

About the Creator

Barb Dukeman

After 32 years of teaching high school English, I've started writing again and loving every minute of it. I enjoy bringing ideas to life and the concept of leaving behind a legacy.

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