Column: I miss working at OCC but know I retired at the right time

I retired nine years ago from a job I held for 37 years.

I was an administrator at Orange Coast College, an institution from which I’d graduated and was deeply committed. My final position was senior director of community relations.

Did I want to retire? No.

Was it time to retire? Yes. Emphatically.

Now that I’ve retired, do I miss the place? Most definitely.

Am I miserable without OCC? No.

Frankly, the decision to retire was a big nothing-burger.

I wasn’t an employee who began looking at retirement at age 40. It never entered my mind until I hit my 60s. I was having too much fun.

In the spring of my 62nd year I began to consider retirement. I’d been recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Parkinson’s can erode executive decision-making skills.

My neurologist suggested I consider stepping down. The disease is oft-times exacerbated by stress. Perhaps I could slow its advance by reducing stress in my life.

Trouble was … I didn’t consider my job stressful. I thrived on it.

When I was in my mid-40s, I had a newspaper reporter friend that I frequently worked with on campus news stories. I greatly admired him. He was in his late 50s and was constantly advising me to smell the roses.

“Jim, you’re an adrenaline junkie like myself,” he would say. “Slow down!”

He should have taken his own advice. Tragically, he died of a heart attack at 62. Stress, I’m sure, played a role.

After I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s much later in life, I began to seriously mull over retirement options.

Twenty-four months later –- in my 64th year –- I decided it was time. I’d slowed down perceptibly. My pride couldn’t abide the prospect of tongues wagging that Jim was no longer what he used to be.

My self-image was inextricably bound to career aspirations and accomplishments. In some circles I was known as “Mr. OCC.”

Coast was my alter ego. Could I step away from it?

I honestly didn’t know.

To illustrate how much I loved my job, I’d accrued a ton of unused sick days when I retired –- more than 400. I also had vacation days totaling nearly 50.

The human resources lady who processed my retirement said she’d never encountered anyone with 400 sick days.

For 37 years, if I wasn’t dying, I was at my desk.

My last year in the Army I had what we referred to as a “Short-Timer’s Calendar.” My calendar -– a countdown to discharge –- was prominently displayed on my desk in the Information Office in Seoul, South Korea.

It communicated this message: “365 Days and a Duffle Bag Drag.” That was Army lingo for dragging your duffel out of the barracks, off the post and into civilian life. Liberation!

My first duty as I entered my Army office each morning was to mark off another day on my calendar. Mondays were especially sweet … I could mark off 3!

I never took part in such inanity as I approached my OCC retirement. In fact, it was just the opposite. I low-keyed everything.

Unfortunately, my colleagues wouldn’t allow that. They staged a huge campus reception before my retirement, and it was overwhelming. I shook hands with and hugged hundreds of wonderful friends in the Student Center.

My final day on the job was surreal. It felt like a rainy day in 6th grade when we had to stay indoors and square dance. I had nothing to do. I’d already cleaned out my desk and turned in my keys.

As my final task, I doused the office lights.

The next morning was Friday. I slept in. How weird was that? Not a single event was on my calendar — in fact, I didn’t have a calendar. My wife, Hedy, was still working so I went to Starbucks.

It took me six months to realize how stressed I’d actually been.

Since my retirement, God has given me chores … some mundane, others significant.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss OCC. But I have things to do.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.