Reflecting on My First Year of Retirement by Scott Stolz, CFP, RICP (week 53)

 

Tomorrow will mark the one-year anniversary of my retirement.  It therefore seems natural for me to reflect on how I’m handling this next stage of life.  I’m going to apologize in advance that this blog is likely to get a bit philosophical.  Overall, I think I’ve handled the transition into retirement really well.  As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, there is a lot to like about retirement.  Mostly it’s the new freedom and flexibility to do things I didn’t previously have time to do.  And a very close second is no longer having to do things I really didn’t want to do but had to do.  Things like back-to-back-to-back zoom calls and annual performance reviews.

 

But there has been a downside – at least for me.  In a way, I’ve gone through a period of mourning, because there is no doubt that I’ve lost a part of my identity.  Prior to joining Raymond James to lead its insurance and annuity division, I worked for 3 different annuity companies.  Most of those years were in the operations and service part of the business.  In short, it was my job to make sure clients such as Raymond James were happy and continued to offer our products.  Anyone that has worked in service knows that your clients often have requests or need a favor.  It didn’t take me long to realize that certain people at certain firms almost always got what they wanted.  Those individuals and/or those firms were just too important to say “no” to.  Therefore, when I went to Raymond James, I made it a goal of mine to become one of those people.  I didn’t know what I would need or who I would need to talk to, but I knew I would need something.  And I knew that my “something” would sometimes require me to reach the person that could say “yes”.  My strategy was to become as visible in the industry as possible.  I accepted offers for industry Board positions, always agreed to speak at conferences, took calls from reporters, submitted articles for industry trade publications, and attended roundtable meetings.  I even testified before Congress once (which was quite the experience).  And the strategy worked.  My calls not only got returned, but they got returned quickly.  “No” was not a word I heard often.  And if they answer was “no”, it was always followed up with, “but here’s what we can do”.  I tried hard to make sure I didn’t take advantage of the leverage I had developed.  I was proud when one executive from one of our annuity carriers told me that while I was hard and demanding, I was also fair and reasonable.  That was the balance I was after.  And I can say with confidence that many Raymond James advisors benefited from this status and leverage.

But once you retire, it doesn’t take long for that status and leverage to disappear.  Phone calls get returned much more slowly or not at all.  Reporters no longer call.  I don’t get invited to speak at conferences or submit articles.  In fact, one trade publication that always gave me a free subscription because they often called me for my thoughts, now wants me to pay for the subscription.  So, I think you can see why I say that part of what made up my identity has died.  I know I’m far from the first retiree to experience this type of loss.

I’ve come to realize that I can either accept this loss as just a natural part of the process or continue to mourn.  And the reality is that my work identity is just a part of who I am.  And it’s certainly far from the most important part.  It can’t hold a candle to who I am as a father, husband, grandfather, brother, and friend.

After one-year of retirement my advice is simple.  If you get your priorities right, you can more easily accept that part of you that has ceased to exist.