The Routine and the Social Security Administration

Well, this retiring thing is going well. I wake up each morning to what I believe is a weekend. I frequently ask my husband what day it is, but he doesn't know either. So, we go about our routine in blissful ignorance - and I use the term "routine" loosely. We haven't yet established one.

Our days have been mostly dictated by the practical. For instance, dealing with questions about Social Security and Medicare and attempting to get them answered. Stepping into that foray is not for the faint of heart. I needed to make an adjustment to the Medicare withholding, since retirement is considered a "Life Changing Event" by SSA. How do I go about doing this, I asked. During a call to the national number, I was directed to make a visit to the local office. There, a very nice young man provided me with a "Life Changing Event" form to complete at home. However, attempting to fill out this form led to a visit to our accountant who sent the form back to me with more questions than answers.(You see where this is going.) I was determined to get answers and ready for another call to the national number - a cup of coffee, my documents at hand, my laptop at the ready. The recorded message alerted me to a wait of 24 minutes or a call-back. I chose the call-back. And surprisingly they did! But not so fast. The recorded voice on the other end told me to indicate if I were ready to take the call by saying "Ready" or Pressing "1". I said "Ready". The voice kept repeating the instructions; so, I pressed "1". Nothing. "Ready"..."1"...eventually, I found myself yelling "Ready" and pressing "1" over and over - to no avail. I hung up and tried calling again. This time, I chose the wait of 28 minutes - phone on speaker. Eventually, the Social Security lady answered, listened to my request and told me to call the local office to make an appointment for assistance. OK. The call to the local office was answered by a recording saying that, at this time, (wait...) all calls were being routed to the national number. I am now entering the twilight zone. Undaunted - another call to the national number, another 25 minute wait and, guess what...I'm told any other information that I had already received was wrong; and despite what the form clearly states, I cannot do what I am attempting to do. Now, I am on a mission. After the long Labor Day weekend, I will march myself back to that local office and, in person, request an appointment. If there is a report of a newly-retired, almost 70 year-old woman  in the Social Security Office in Middletown, CT calling out "Ready, ready, ready!"  - that would be me.

Beginning the process

Two days ago I realized that, four months from that very day, I would be turning 70. Christmas Eve will see me enter my eighth decade. What?! Of course, I have celebrated other significant birthdays and shared in the benefits of each. 

Turning 50 brought the uninvited weekly correspondence from AARP - and - Who told them, anyway?. Automatic notices about all things "senior" began appearing in my inbox. But, it did come with some perks: dining discounts, travel tips, geriatric romance advice, and a Membership Card. (Anything with a membership card must be important.)

Becoming 65 was more of a wake-up call. There was Medicare - Part A only for me, since I was still working. And that gave me time to research Part B, Part D, Supplemental... who can make any sense of this healthcare puzzle? More information came pouring into the mail focusing on Retirement, Social Security, Senior Living and volunteer opportunities for Active Adults. 

So now I am approaching the big "7 - 0".  Who says that, you ask?  No one. In fact, if you go look for birthday party goods - paper plates, napkins, banners, etc, there's a huge assortment for "40", "50", "60" and even "65"... "70"? - nothing. What does that say? Maybe it has something to do with what I recently discovered about the generation that I belong to. We all know the Baby Boomers and Generation X, the Millennials or Gen Y. But, I was born in 1943 - where do I belong? Well, I just found out. First of all, my contemporaries and I are grouped with those born from 1925 - 1945. (Those are some really old people.) Then, apparently we are known as the "Mature" or "Silent" Generation. I object! I have decided that since I was born on the cusp of this generation, I choose to be "Not Silent". 

Some say that 70 is the new 40 or the new 50. Really? I think I will join those of my friends who create our own definition of turning 70. And I begin to do so by retiring from my job after 26 years of doing something that I truly enjoyed..