Bye Hard

Retirement, I often think, is a glorious thing. But different people react to it in different ways. I found this out today.

Some take it with a smile, go home and don't leave the house. Spending the next 20 years sprucing up the garden and finishing off those 'odd jobs' they'd promised their wives they would complete. But others don't take retirement until somebody sits them down and force it upon them. That is how Jim took his.


Two porters retired last year, and took it with open arms. They had been wanting to finish for years, so they told me, and when their last day finally came, the bosses decided not to let them work and to treat them to a nice buffet and a bit of a party. I remember that day vividly, Kenneth sitting down with a smile on his face. And Frank walking out the building. The last thing we heard from him was 'Waste 'a time! I could have stayed at home with the misses if I'm not going to do my shift!' Like I said, people react in different ways.


Jim never wanted to leave. I think he was of that generation were working was all he knew. Since a very young age it gets engrained into you. After that it just becomes habit, I imagine. There's a bloke who works on Secuirty who's nearly 75. Gordon, his name is. He hasn't retired because he doesn't want to. It gets you out the house and meeting people, working in a Supermarket. Good old fashioned work. Yet I doubt he'd go chasing young lads who are nicking packets of Jaffa Cakes out the door like the rest of the Security staff. But he works. And works hard, with a bit of pride and sweat on your brow. I believe Jim worked harder than the rest of us out on the car park. It's a sad thing, a sixty odd year old man working harder than 20 and 30 year olds. An irony lost on Darren, Steve and the moron twins. But his knees had packed up. It hurt to walk. But he still wanted to get up in the morning and work. Steve told us he may still do that.


'Sharon told me he's got a part-time job in Iceland.'
'Iceland?' asked Alex. Moron twin A.
'Yeah, only a few hours a week, like.'
'Hows he going to get there?'
'Bike it, i think. Like he does here. Or like he did.'
'...Iceland?'


We could see the cogs twisting in his head. Steve's words clanging around in there, trying to find logic but failing completely. His brother, open mouthed stare stood next to him, we knew was thinking the same thing. Alex didn't speak much, Duncan did it all for him. We all realised, all at the same time, that he was thinking of the country.

'The supermarket, you nonce!' yelled Steve.
'You idiot.' said Darren, walking away.


As soon as Duncan got it, he joined in.


'Yeah, the supermarket! Bloody hell, Alex!'

 
Alex has done that before, if you can believe. He came out of the store one day convinced we have an aisle dedicated to items from Poland. It took two hours for us to realise he was looking in the Shoe Polish aisle.

It seemed no-one had a leaving present for him, so I bought a leaving card and got all the porters to sign, Sharon spared a couple of seconds to write something and so did Hillary, off Customer Services. It was around this time that Sandra appeared over my shoulder.

'What's all this then!'

Sandra was loud. You know those people who are just naturally loud? They seem to bellow everything they say. And when you're trying to keep something quiet, it's annoying. She was stick thin, middle aged and wore enough perfume to take out an elephant.

'Writing a leaving card for Jim.'

It wasn't a big card, so I was going round to all the people to sign it who Jim knew. Sandra wanted in on the action.

'Oh, give us the pen, love.'
'You don't know him, do you?'
'Course I do! Bald fella, glasses.'
'No, that's Frank. He left last year.'
'What's everyone else put.' Leaning in at the card I was guarding.
'Just, you know, good luck and all that.'
'Come on, David. Give us the pen.'
'But you don't know him. I'm saving space for the people who do.'
'Oh don't be so silly. You should have got a bigger card, bloody student!'

She nudged me out of the way, not that I was outmuscled, her perfume was starting to affect my sight. She scanned all of the names and messages on the card, angled the pen towards it and asked,

'What's his name again?'

She didn't sign it. All she got was a papercut from me ripping the card out of her perfume soaked hands.


We stood by a trolley bay and watched Jim walk past the store and out of sight. If we were in a cartoon he would by carrying a stick over his shoulder, with a knotted up hanky on the end of it.


'Well there he goes, a free man.' said Darren.
'You make it seem like it's a prison.' I said.
'Na, the meals are better.'
'In prison?'
'Yeah, my Uncle got a fry-up every day inside. And got to watch the football.'
'Sounds like my Sundays.' Alex added.


Jim was as Northern as they come. So much so that every other word he said was 'yonder' and he looked and sounded like he'd come straight out of an Alan Bennett play. It was fun to hear him talk and I always smiled when I saw him working as hard as he did.
 
 
'All right lads, that old fart gone yet?' Duncan bounced over.
'Just.' His brother added.
'Bit of a wanker, wasn't he.'


Duncan was expecting us all to agree. Especially his brother. But even he held his stare into the middle distance, staying silent. It took me a while to tell the difference between the two of them at first, but you could always hear Duncan. Alex had slightly thicker powder blue framed glasses and the beginnings of a wispy bum-fluff moustache. After a few more seconds of silence Duncan parped up again.

'I'm off for a cig.'
'You've just come back from having one.'
'Yeah, so! It's not busy, is it?!

We all watched him trounce off. Knowing that if he had it in him, Jim could do Duncan's shifts twice over.