Dorothy Jones, lovingly nicknamed ‘Granny D’ at work, closed her laptop with a sigh. It was her 75th birthday and she was meeting some of her few remaining friends at the cocktail lounge down the street. She checked herself in the mirror, ensuring that there were no crumbs from her office birthday cake stuck in her frilly dress. The face staring back at her from the mirror was kind and sad at the same time. Life hadn’t turned out as her generation had expected when they were 30. She sneered at their naïve dreams:

Retire early, at 55, take a world cruise and stop off for months in Southeast Asia, maybe buy a small car and cruise around Australia, jump off in LA and drive across the USA to Florida, board the next cruise liner to explore the Caribbean.

On the way to the elevators, she waved bye to her colleagues, wondering what they really thought about her. Do they feel sorry for me because I have to work? Do they really like working with someone who could be their grandmother? “Oh, stop it, you old hag,” she mumbled to herself as she rode the elevator down. She liked the mix of generations in the office, she loved the 20-somethings’ energy chasing the career hungry mid-30s gang, while the older folks took it easier and watched the office politics.

“Here we are, the richest generation ever, and we can’t afford to retire.” Dorothy got all worked up after her first glass of chardonnay. “We are the Boomers, we created the welfare state, and now? The coffers are empty, our pensions have been halved, and we have to work… or hope our kids can support us. Some life!”

“Hey, did you guys hear about Sam Davids? No? His investments seemed to have paid off. He retired last week when he turned 68… lucky bugger.”

“Yeah, but he’s a GenXer, they planned their retirement differently. They didn’t trust the pension system that we built.” Dorothy looked at her old friends, wondering who would be around next year for her 76th. She pondered if she should tell them that next year would also be her retirement party. She had done the numbers, gone over them several times with her son, and they looked solid: She was one of the lucky ones – she would finally be able to retire.

“A toast to the luxury of retirement,” she said and raised her glass.

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