We were meeting at our usual place, a bustling coffee shop near downtown. It was our second meeting since she retired earlier this year, and I was anxious to hear how things were going.
Huddled in a corner for some privacy, we sipped our coffee as I walked her through a quick portfolio review. Shortly thereafter, our attention turned to some unexpected caped crusaders, as two young boys walked in with their mother.
Their costumes and interactions were cute at first, but then their superhero antics began to cause some collateral damage. Their mother appeared completely oblivious to the chaos they were creating. They knocked over bags as they crawled under tables and their loud voices disrupted phone calls. I had no idea that superpowers could be so damaging, let alone that a similar situation was taking place with my client.
It turns out that she recently started working at a local animal shelter. She had always dreamed of working with animals and was looking for ways to connect with other pet lovers. What she said next will go down as one of the most profound retirement statements I have come across in the last two decades.
She shared, “A couple of weeks ago, I was finishing up my shift and moping the floor when it suddenly dawned on me, I’m invisible!”
The gravity of her comment hit me right away. At some point we have all felt invisible. Whether it was being picked last for a team, the transition into high school or college, feeling isolated after a move to a new city, or being the only one not invited to a holiday party.
In that simple statement, she not only captured my attention but also the essence of what it’s like for a client to lose their work identity… and I saw firsthand how a superpower like being invisible can impact a new retiree.
She went on to share, “I don’t know how else to describe it… I felt like I was there but that no one could see me.”
It was a mesmerizing conversation because it created such a powerful visual that I could easily insert myself into. She was surrounded by other staff members and four legged friends in the cages nearby, but as she slid the mop across the floor, her motions were undetectable. Nobody was looking at her, talking to her or waiting to hear from her. She didn’t exist.
I thought, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a role or place in an organization… no one was aware of how important she used to be… how much money she had, or how hard she worked to reach this point in her life. It all disappeared.