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I’ve never had time for those people who say that asking someone at a party what he or she does for a living is a perfidiously shallow thing to do, an icky, toadying thing, a Washington thing. I’ve always been interested in people’s jobs.
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And no job has interested me more than mine. That’s why it feels so weird to say that my job is coming to an end.
You may have heard that The Washington Post is in a financial hole roughly $100 million deep and to save money is offering buyouts to hundreds of employees in the hopes that 240 of them will take one. I got the email in October. The subject line read: “You are Eligible for the Voluntary Separation Package.”
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I’ve decided to voluntarily separate.
This isn’t my final column — that will come later this month. This is a column where I do what I’ve done so often in this space: invite readers to do my work for me. You’ve been so good at sending in your opinions and experiences (on everything from celebrity doppelg？ngers to bad grammar) that I’m eager to tap you again. I want to hear from people who left a job they loved and went on to do something they (hopefully) loved just as much.
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Honestly — and I’ve never been anything but honest in this column — I’m a little worried about what I’ll do next, about what I’ll be next. I know that’s partly because of vanity. I worry I’ve allowed myself to base too much of my identity on my job. Without my job, what’s left of me?
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Of course, it’s not like people have been asking for my autograph in the grocery store checkout line, but even if people haven’t heard of me — and most haven’t! — they’ve heard of The Washington Post. I’ve read it myself since I was a kid. I’ve been proud to sail under the banner of my hometown newspaper. Working here has allowed me to meet all sorts of interesting people and visit interesting places. And I’ve never wanted for free pens and notepads. Will all that be gone, like tears in rain?
My job has provided structure to my life. That’s true of any job, I guess, but especially this one. Since March 7, 2004, I’ve known that I’ll spend pretty much every weekday morning writing a column and pretty much every weekday afternoon doing some reporting for a future column.
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Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
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Knowing that I won’t be doing this makes me feel unmoored. I’m reminded of a column I wrote years ago about the last fire horses in Washington. When they were replaced by firetrucks, hundreds of horses were put out to pasture. They couldn’t be retrained for other jobs because they’d go crazy whenever they heard a bell or alarm. They’d spent their lives responding to bells. They couldn’t suddenly stop.
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I’m fortunate I can leave this job without knowing what I’ll do next — or if I’ll do anything other than watch Netflix. (I was going to say Amazon Prime, but then I’d have to note that Amazon founder Jeff Bezos owns The Washington Post and interim CEO Patty Stonesifer sits on Amazon’s board.)
I’m in a much better situation than my younger colleagues who are having to decide whether to take the buyout without the payout and pension I’m entitled to as someone who’s worked here 34 years. I feel for them, as I feel for anyone trying to build a career in journalism these days.
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Frankly, I’d recently started thinking I needed to slow down. I remember thinking how ancient my predecessor Bob Levey was when he took a buyout in 2004 and I took over this column. Bob was 58. I’m 61.
Still, it’s going to be weird seeing something/thinking something/wondering something and not having a place to put it. They say the unexamined life isn’t worth living. Is the uncolumnized observation worth having? Robbed of an outlet, am I going to start delivering 800-word monologues at the breakfast table, to the dog, to strangers on the Metro?
And so I wonder: What did you do? How did you navigate the transition from working to … not working? Did you try to approximate your working days? Did you strike out in a new direction completely? Did you travel to Peru and participate in an ayahuasca ceremony hoping to shatter the illusion of selfhood?
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Send your experiences — with “The Retiring Kind” in the subject line — to me at john.kelly@washpost.com. I may share your observations in a future column. But not too far in the future. I only have a couple of weeks left.
Helping Hand
We’re halfway through this season’s Washington Post Helping Hand campaign. Have you donated yet? To read about our charity partners — Bread for the City, Friendship Place and Miriam’s Kitchen — visit posthelpinghand.com. Thank you.
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