Staring Down Retirement
I started working during the height of the Apollo Space program. Our family had just left being stationed in Bitburg AFB in Germany for Cocoa, Florida. I was 13 years old and sold Current Stationery door-to-door in my neighborhood. Along the way, I picked up housekeeping jobs and a few babysitting gigs. Both of my parents worked at Kennedy Space Center during Apollo. The space shuttle, which was just an idea, was shelved so they were RIF’d (reduction in force) by NASA, only to land at Goddard Space Center in Greenbelt, MD. We lived in a Levittown community where the neighborhoods were grouped alphabetically. First I lived in “Pointer Ridge” (street names all started with P) and then “Somerset” at 12415 Starlight Lane, Bowie MD. I continued to sell Current door-to-door and, because I was older, got a ton of babysitting jobs. I learned that I got better and more comfortable at cold-calling the more I did it. That led to my ability to ask anybody for anything.
Eventually, I lied about my age to get a job at McCrory’s in the mall just off Superior Lane and Stonybrook Avenue. McCrory’s was a chain of five and dime department store with a lunch counter and record section. The first McCrory store opened in Pennsylvania in 1862 and, after a few corporate restructures, by 1963, it was the fourth largest department store chain in the U.S. but eventually the company filed for bankruptcy in 1992.
To have a “real job,” you had to be 16 and I was 15 but, apparently, a good liar. I was queen of the records department and, in 1970, the music bidness was booming. It was the perfect job for me because I had been listening to music since birth. My parents listened to crooners and country music. I was the fourth daughter of five kids and my oldest sister graduated from high school in 1963. My internal playlist started with what my three sisters were listening to — Wolf Man Jack, Jan and Dean, Elvis, The Association, Chad and Jeremy and working our way up to the Beatles. I was in the right place at McCrory’s when the new acts came out — James Taylor, Carole King, CSN&Y, Simon & Garfunkel and all the greats who were releasing albums and crossing their fingers that they climbed the charts to #1. Today, my playlist ranges from Dean Martin to Dave Brubeck to Notorious B.I.G. and Snoop to Harry Styles; that bus makes many stops along the way. (My 7th grade teacher was a big Brubeck fan.)
I don’t know why, but eventually I moved over to the bigger mall which had a Florsheim Shoe Store and Thom McCan. Thus began my trip into the rabbit hole of … shoes. To this day, I could be wearing a sack from the knees up, but I will rock a great pair of shoes. The photo is a dead ringer for the platform shoes I bought in high school—they’re back!!! I learned that women get hung up about what size shoe they wear. Big shoe size people feel real shame when they go to the shoe store so I’m sure Zappos is like an AA meeting for that gang. I was always a perfect size 8, but my feet have gotten bigger with age. Hi, my name is Lisa, and I’m a size 9.5.
First base.
Eventually, I landed my first grown up job as a secretary in the big DC law firms. I cut my teeth at some big name places with big name clients and have scandalous stories to tell about the misbehavior of newly rich lawyers drunk on money and power. I worked on two U.S. Supreme Court cases with the former Dean of Harvard Law School and U.S. Solicitor General (the one who argues for the U.S. vs anybody else). He called the justices by their first names. That’s real juice. He was the model for Professor Kingsfield in the movie The Paper Chase. Yeah, that guy. I have a few stories about him, too, and the scared younger lawyers who worked for him. Not me. I wasn’t afraid of anybody, kinda much to my detriment sometimes.
Those were years of pounding the keyboard at 100 wpm and running (me! running!) down the street to file a document before they closed at 5 pm. Accuracy was critical because no White Out was allowed (look it up, Millennials). I was the only secretary on the squash board and I beat people, people with Ivy League squash club memberships. I played first base on the firm’s softball team and my dog, Cajun, played it, too. Someone said that Cajun would follow me into a buzz saw. I learned my way around a law library and more; I pushed myself to learn as much as I could without going to law school. I was ready to move beyond the restricted life of a law firm where you were either a lawyer or not a lawyer.
Those years in the law firms taught me the value of manners. Prior to the late 70s-early 80s, only people, and primarily men, for whom the law was the family business went to law school. Then smart kids without the pedigree started applying and it changed the dynamics of the firms. I experienced three kinds of people: (1) the lock-jawed upper crust with a perceived pedigree (with equal amounts of assholes and good people because money only defines your buying power and absolutely nothing else); (2) the smart kids who were secure in their identity so they basically stayed the same; and (3) the smart kids who were insecure about who they were, put themselves on a pedestal, and announced their superiority by being an asshole.
What are manners for? Write this down and teach your children because it’s one of the most important things I have ever learned. Manners are a code, a set of behaviors, which we employ in our interactions with each other to ensure peace in the village. They are especially helpful in scenarios where one is uncomfortable. When you don’t know what to do or say, at least mind your manners.
In the latter couple of decades of my life, I have had three jobs that I really loved and taught me so much. I spent about six years at an international sports management and marketing company, one of two in the country at that time, and met close to everybody in the sports world. I saw how money and fame changed their lives and for the worse if they weren’t sure in themselves.
I took a break and went back to college to study Social Work (graduated with honors and was class president). After graduation, I spent another six years or so at Lindsay Automotive Group where I was given unlimited freedom to experiment with my own abilities. I had three special promotions that reached the big time. One was mentioned on Good Morning America, one was given a big fat attaboy by the corporate office of Lexus for creative promotion, and another attaboy from the corporate office of smart usa for special event. My work here is done. I learned that I was creative. I didn’t know that before.
Eventually, I started and quit grad school at GMU (Public Admin) and found my way to Melbourne, FL, where I found the arts district. I was drawn to the historic community that had incredible bones; a real hidden gem. I served on the first board of directors and ended up with the ED job for the main street program. There’s an earlier blog that talks about my love for downtown. I changed a state law. I left a legacy, if only in my own head. I’m proud of the work I did, and I wish my knees and back hadn’t imposed their will so much. The one thing I love to do, I couldn’t do — walk up and down and chat with people.
…and so, it’s time to go and see how I can make retirement my bitch. We’ll see. My brain never turns off.
