BYE BYE WORKPLACE

Although there’s still two months before I skip off into the early retirement sunset, I’ve already drawn up a letter announcing my departure intentions which I’ll present to my manager like an early Easter egg. Haven’t you bought yours yet? They’ve been in the shops since 5 January so no excuses.

Legally obliged to give only a months’ notice, I’m generously giving my employer two whole months in which to procrastinate as I’ve yet to experience a workplace where replacement staff are recruited in a timely manner that allows the current incumbent to train up their successor.

And that of course is assuming that there will be a successor because past experience also shows that many companies choose to leave posts vacant for a period in order to achieve headcount budget saves and don’t really care if your colleagues have to absorb your workload on top of their own in the meantime.

The more devious companies use early retirements as a good excuse for a complete departmental restructure that generally results in more work for the same pay on a permanent basis and also generates ongoing savings on employer on-costs which are then spaffed on director bonuses, client schmoosing or some nonsensical bit of office kit you didn’t know you needed.

I hope my replacement is the Usain Bolt of data input, has the patience of a saint, zero initiative, and enjoys being micro-managed because these are the key attributes required to fit into my role.

Whilst there is no career progression as such or guarantee of an annual pay rise, you can dress casually, listen to the radio all day long and enjoy the delights of a Turner’s pie delivered to your desk every Christmas. Even the chancellor can’t tax these perks which albeit small, add to a pleasant working environment.

The key to a good leaving letter in my view is to ensure you don’t burn bridges because if retirement becomes one long bore, you may wish to return to your old job. Are there any statistics out there to quantify how many people have done this? Keep it brief, free of personal gripes or company criticisms and thank them.

What???  Yes, thank your employer for giving you the opportunity to sit there and take shit. It’s polite and after all whatever you might think of them, they gave you a chance when perhaps no-one else would. Plus I’m sure that most people have given as much shit back to their employers as they’ve taken during their working lives so it’s only fair to show some degree of gratitude.

By all means throw in all those insincere platitudes – I’ll miss you (no I won’t), I’ve enjoyed working here (really?), I’ll pop in to say hello (come on, nobody ever goes back) and keep in touch (I never want to hear from you buggers ever, ever, ever again!).  Best to just keep it simple.

In the past I’ve always handed over my letters of resignation on a Friday. This is not a deliberate ploy on my part to ensure my manager has a stressful weekend but because as an ex-manager, office custom and practice is to deliver bad news on Fridays.

You’re sacked/redundant/being replaced by a robot or a 12 year old who knows how to use social media – all of these scenarios are communicated at the end of the week so as to cause the least disruption in the workplace. No tears, tantrums or toys thrown out of the pram for 5 days because all those human emotions that accompany bad news then take place on your own dime. By the time Monday rolls round, your resignation is old news and pragmatic plans can then be put in place so that office life can continue as before.

There’s always an element of both nervousness and sadness in handing over the missive but it should always be done in person. No cowardly leaving the letter on the desk when your boss has nipped out for a latte/slash or to chat up the totty in the team next door.

Experience shows that after the deed is done there’s generally an embarrassing silence, some well wishing but never a great deal of chat; both of you are just sat there hoping the moment will quickly pass so you can get back to your spreadsheets.

BACK TO BLIGHTY

Overseas business concluded, back home in dear old Blighty, a country of cold, complaining and crises. Who wouldn’t want to live in sunny Spain all winter? I for one would quite happily hibernate here from October to April each year given half the chance and a lottery win.

Something that’s hard to explain is that although British by birth and having lived pretty much all my life in the UK, there’s a part of me that always feels like I’ve returned home when visiting Spain. I just can’t put my finger on it. A switch flips in my head bringing out the Mediterranean in me. And when the locals accost me in the street to ask for directions then it becomes even more obvious that they think I’m one of them, not some gringo from foreign parts. Not that I can help them in any way as I’ve no idea where anything is but it’s really rather nice to be asked.

Alas, all good things come to an end and it’s probably no bad thing. There’s a reason why you leave home in your younger years; it doesn’t change as you get older. Everyone knows parents will drive you mad sooner or later, mine are no exception.  I now need a holiday to get over this holiday!

Besides which I have a long list of stuff to return to such as continuing the wood panelling project I started before Christmas plus getting my head round this new concept called retirement.

CONSUMER CONFIDENCE

The beauty of the internet is that whilst the fogeys take a post-lunch siesta in the Spanish sunshine, I can keep a beady on what’s going on at home.

Today’s BBC website featured an article on consumer confidence containing a statement that piqued my interest:

Older Britain is sat on its savings, despondent about the country and the economy, refusing to spend its money and weighing down GDP, even as pay rises for workers remain higher on average than the rate of inflation.

Seeing as I have nothing better to do in temperatures that today are above 20 degrees then let’s pick apart the various components of this statement.

Sat on Savings – Why is older Britain hoarding cash? Because most of us grew up with the mantra of saving for that proverbial ‘rainy day’. A mindset of ensuring you have enough money put by for potential emergencies or in case one day you have to pay for extortionate care homes, private medical treatments, vets fees, car repairs etc etc. I mean who doesn’t wince every time the garage drops a vehicular atom bomb during the annual MOT advising that your car needs a million and one replacement parts?

Boomers and the like also stash cash towards retirement, those extra pennies for comforts such as hobnobs, heating or holidays. Is this a bad thing? Not for you or I but certainly not good for the UK’s consumerist economy. However, now pensioners are about to fall into tax traps that could soon change.

Despondent about country and economy – Honestly, there’s little to be cheerful about these days. The tabloids are full of wars, hatred and hard luck stories. Bad news sells. Negativity spreads. What with the nation’s economy being pinged about in an economic pinball machine and more political U-turns than the magic roundabout, is it any wonder we’re not skipping round looking for unicorns?

Refusing to spend – Being a Super Scrimper I feel well qualified to tackle this one. If it ain’t broke, why replace it? It’s not that I’m refusing to spend my money, it’s just that the little money I have is spent WISELY. 

Not on frivolities, unnecessary gadgets, gizmos or generally pissed up against the wall on nothingness. I don’t need to keep up with the Joneses. Happy to drive an old banger, use a prehistoric brick phone, watch an ancient TV, keep my consumables in a dilapidated but functioning fridge or wear clothes that have survived decades of unfashionable trends. I paint my own nails, administer my own facials, shave my bits and get local college students to give me cheap haircuts stretching my part-time salary like one of those pilates exercise bands.

My one and only luxury is a monthly subscription to a local gym because us oldies need to keep fit to save the NHS the hassle of having to continually patch us up with cable ties and gaffer tape.

Yeah, I’m proud to be the consumerist economy’s worst nightmare because in doing so, I know I’m not contributing to the mountain of waste produced by those that feel the need to replace new things every 2-3 years regardless of whether they need to or not. A situation I might add that is deliberately engineered by those who prey on gullible suckers they know will succumb to consumerist FOMO. Not me, amigo.

Weighing down GDP – I know I need to shift a few kilos off the midriff but just how am I weighing down GDP? I think that accolade should be ascribed to the Treasury/current or previous Governments whose policies have resulted in zero productivity, high unemployment, rampant inflation, industry and wealth fleeing abroad. If anyone’s weighing down GDP then look to the FAT cats who take everything out but never put anything back in.

Pay rises higher than inflation – You’re having a laugh! Hands up who in the private sector received a pay rise this year or last? And pray tell us if it was more than 3.2% which was the UK's current inflation rate as measured by the Consumer Prices Index (CPI) in November 2025. 

I am still waiting for such a pay rise or in fact any pay rise, non-existent because our company pleaded poverty ever since the Chancellor clobbered businesses with higher NI costs and increases to the national living wage. Clearly this largely applies to PUBLIC sector pay rises and was conveniently overlooked by the Beeb.

And when you consider this last point, is it any wonder then that folks are hoarding cash, despondent, refusing to spend? I mean it’s bleeding obvious. Less pay, no jobs, less scope to do anything.

If you want to read this priceless piece of journalistic licence then here it is in all its glory:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c150leql9pgo

LOS CHINOS

For all the ex-pats living on the Costa Del Sol, one thing I noticed missing from the Spanish high street is Poundland or similar. However, in El Rincon that gap in the market has been filled by these marvellous Asian emporiums affectionately called Los Chinos (the Chinese) by my aged parents.

Los Chinos sell everything from pants to pliers at rock bottom prices. Need a loo brush? – Los Chinos. Run out of energy-efficient light bulbs? – Los Chinos. Got a hole in your socks? – you guessed, Los Chinos for needles, thread or even a replacement pair. There is almost nothing you can’t buy in these places; they’re like a cut down version of Amazon on your doorstep.

These Asian emporiums are huge too. Set out in a fiendish labyrinthine layout rather like the Hampton Court maze, once you’ve tracked down the sought after article, it’s a job to remember how to navigate back to the tills. Trapped in a dead end between cleaning cloths and cake decorating equipment, I thought I might have to ring the Spanish rozzers to instigate a rescue and that would have been tricky as who the hell knows what the Spanish word might be for piping bags or cookie cutters.

Having made it safely back to front of house with my eclectic basket of loo brush, fancy candle for Grandson’s next birthday and a pair of oversized gent’s boxers to use as shorts in the garden, I skipped out into the glorious sunshine thanking my lucky stars for the entrepreneurial spirit of Orientals.