How Many Years?

JD writes a Note to The Cube . . .

I'm 53. Not too old, not too young in my mind (and, when I look at the body of Jack, sitting in the cubicle next to me, not too shabby, either: Jack apparently went straight from high school into middle age, since he's only 20-something, with the butt and gut to match my Dad's).

But this is about work - and retirement. Today I got a letter from Social Security telling me how much I will receive if I retire at 63, 65 or 70. In other words: impossible, crappy and OK if my 401(k) doesn't nosedive.

Retire at age 70: that's only 17 years away. Wow, I must be getting old!

But wait a minute: 17 years ago I was only 36 and still young!

And 17 years ago was only yesterday, it doesn't even count as "Classic" Anything on the radio and I'd already had a computer for years.

And I only joined this place I'm working at ... 11 years ago?

Damn, something's wrong, and I sure don't want to die working here.