Thirty-five years of a job she hated.
I look out over the handmade ham and Swiss turnovers, meatballs bubbling in the silver chafing dish, the cake with pink, purple and yellow flowers encircling the well wishes carefully written across the top and I think, 'If I'm stuck in a crappy job for 35 years-I better have more exciting food at my retirement party.'
I haven't decided if that's a weird thought or not. But it did make me think-with all the 'foodies' out there-what's going to be their boring retirement food? Or will they even have boring food? Are we going to walk around with bones, straws stuck in them, sucking the marrow out-as opposed to just add water fruit punch? Will we be dipping the crudité into tomato gelee? Will the dessert be represented by the dark chocolate shavings over my steak tartare? What will the food look like?
But then, the idea of retiring seems so foreign. A 'party' in a dull conference room. Ending a job I hate.
No, none of that seems right. A doctor told my grandmother the fastest way to die was to retire. And if I'm going to die-I'm going to be doing something I love. Because anything else, is a waste of time.