You make a life-changing decision. However, it needs to be approved.
You approach the person with the power to make it happen. But you discover . . .
There’s Trouble In Paradise
There comes a time in your life when you have to make a major decision. Your wife looks at you, as you exit your office in the rear of the house, and says, somewhat frustrated, “This is the third year in a row I will be asking this question. Each time before, you’ve said, ‘No.’ So, for the last time, are you retiring? We need to move on to the next stage of our life.”
With a smirk on my face and my retirement letter in hand, I replied, “Yes.”
“That’s fantastic. Amazing!” Sarah screeched. “I’ve got to call your mother and post it on Facebook.”
“You don’t have to do anything. Just keep everything under wraps until I tell my boss, tomorrow.”
“I . . . don’t know if I can do that.”
“Well, for once, try.”
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. It was a beautiful day, in the middle of March. A slight wind blew, as I exited my office on the Paradise Valley College campus. I loved my job as a college administrator, but the hours and daily stress were starting to get to me. I believed the timing was right to retire and move on.
As I went into the building next door, my stomach became queasy. I walked slowly toward my boss’s office and entered the reception area, but Darla, her secretary, wasn’t at her desk. So I headed toward my boss’s door. As I did, I thought, How would she, the college president react? Would she accept my decision to retire? Did she have a choice?
I knocked on the door. A pleasant voice chanted, “Please come in.”
A bit nervous, I opened it. Vicky was sitting at her desk, her head buried in a document she was reading. Not wanting to frighten her, I murmured, “Vicky, it’s me, Aaron.”
She lifted her head and uttered, “Aaron, you look a bit uneasy. Is anything wrong?”
“Well, I have something to tell you.” I paused and said nothing.
“Okay, I’m waiting.”
I began to shake.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“It depends on how you react to what I have to say.”
“Just spit it out already. I can handle anything you want to share with me.”
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
I leaned over and placed the envelope with my retirement letter in it on the desk in front of her. Taking a few steps back, I said, “It’s all yours now.”
“This looks rather ominous. Should I call Darla in to witness the grand opening? I believe I heard her come back to her desk.”
Stuttering, I said, “Uh, I . . . I don’t think that’s necessary.”
She picked up the letter, but didn’t open it. “Why don’t you just tell me what it says—get to the point.”
Frozen in place, my lips moved, but nothing came out, She didn’t react. Sucking in my gut, I blurted, “It’s my retirement letter.”
“Well, I can’t accept it.” She handed it back to me.
Looking bewildered, I stated, “But you have to.”
“I have to? I’m the boss. You have to do what I want you to do. Not the other way around. I can’t get my job done without you. Aside from your regular job as my Vice President, you’re my editor of reports and documents the other administrators submit—the only person besides myself I trust to do this. And I’m not doing it.”
“Uh, I . . .”
“That’s a very big compliment. And you know I don’t give those very often.”
“Thank you, but . . .”
“No buts.”
“You can’t retire until I do.”
“But . . . your four years younger than me.”
“So?”
I was miffed. Not knowing what to do, I tossed the letter back on her desk. “This is over. You’ve got it. So act on it. I’m retiring in June.”
“I don’t agree, but I guess I have to accept it,” she stated in a way that made me even more uncomfortable.
However, I breathed a sigh of relief, turned, and left her office. Retirement was my future.
Doing this wasn’t easy. But I guess I should be feeling good about her not wanting me to retire. With a smug look on my face, I felt important—someone who’d helped her do her job and wouldn’t be forgotten.
A week passed. I didn’t share my great news with anybody. I would do that after the Board of Trustees approved my retirement at the Board meeting next Tuesday.
Sitting at my desk thinking about my future as a retiree, I knew I’d made the right decision. Then the phone on my desk rang. “Hello, this is Aaron Loch.”
“Aaron, President Jansen is here to see you,” my secretary, Lois, announced.
“Okay, send her in.”
The door opened and Vicky strutted in carrying an envelope in her hand. She looked me in the eye and stated, “Aaron, I can’t accept your retirement letter.”
“Oh, no! Not this again. You can’t do this. If I can’t retire, then I quit.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you do that. It’ll affect your pension. And it isn’t your retirement I want to stop. It’s the letter.”
“Why? What about the letter?”
“You’re the best VP I ever had. And your ability to edit anything and everything I asked you to review has made you a legend with the Board.”
“So, that sounds great. But what does that have to do with my letter?”
“I can’t give it to the Board.”
“Vicky, stop messing with me.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want to embarrass you. I want you to leave with a stellar reputation.”
“So, just give them the letter and sing my praises.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It has two spelling errors in it.”
Copyright © 2025 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
