I’m an engineer with a solid, detailed financial retirement plan, yet it took a 23-year-old dental hygienist with a single, sharp word to prove that I’m nowhere near as “emotionally ready” as I thought I was.

I used to—and maybe I still do—pride myself on being a logical thinker. I believed that what mattered were the facts, not how they were presented. In my mind, emotions had nothing to do with information; in fact, I felt emotions usually just got in the way of the truth. But as I prepare to leave the “Death Star” for good, I’m realizing that this transition is less about the numbers and definitely more about the feelings.

I was surprised by how much the emotional side took over for me today. As I’ve grown more experienced as a manager, I’ve learned that emotions are a vital tool. Showing your team your “soft side” or opening up to them gives them the permission to do the same. Understanding their frustrations or sharing a good laugh makes working together easier. You become closer.  I choose my words more carefully than I did when I was younger as  negative words can make people shut down quickly. Just as  important, I time them better. 

Today I was the receiver of an emotional sideswipe in two ways I didn’t expect.  Where emotion crushed my logic. 

One was a nudge to do something I knew I should have been doing for years; the other was a hit regarding the work I did at my previous Death Star (company). I knew the logic behind both, but today, emotion won the day to make me change my behavior.

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The Power of “Dirty”

First, the easy one. I’ve been going to the dentist every six months since I was a kid. It was automatic—just go, get the cleaning, and let work benefits pay for it. I grew up in a family that didn’t floss. It wasn’t a habit my parents had, so I never learned it. Brushing religiously? Yes. Flossing? No. In my mind, the toothbrush did the heavy lifting.

We all know the logic,  we should floss daily. But most of us don’t. For forty-some years, every dental hygienist has admonished me like a child. “You must floss. Your teeth are great—no cavities in forty years—but you must floss.” It was always the same tough speech, and I always ignored it. Usually, the emotion they tried to trigger was guilt.

Now, I am one with guilt. I was taught by a Karate Master black belt in guilt,  my mother. So, to the hygienists, I say: Bring. It. On. My evidence was my lack of cavities. So why floss.  Guilt couldn’t penetrate my shields.

But today, a new, just-out-of-school hygienist changed my view with one word. It wasn’t the word, but the way she said it. She told me that if I didn’t floss, my mouth was “dirty.” She said it with a hint of genuine disgust.

No man wants to be seen as disgusting by the opposite sex. She changed my view forever. Where is the floss? I was shocked by my own reaction. She took the same logic I’ve heard for decades but attached a different emotion to it. Forty years of guilt did nothing; one word of disgust and it was game over.

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The “Mess” at the Death Star

The second shock was a hit to my pride, the easiest hull breach for me and most people.

I was laid off ten months ago. My logic tells me it was about a lack of work, or company politics, or any of the numerous reasons that surface during a downsizing. There was new management at the top who didn’t understand my department. To them, we were a “necessary evil.” I still believe they didn’t know why my role was important and the part I played in delivering our product.

Today, I was “trolling” a friend of mine who took over my old department. Since I left, a few key resources from my old team have departed (I  hired one of them at my new gig). There is only one key guy left, standing with his finger in the dike trying to hold it all together. He’s under a lot of stress.

I’ve joked with the current boss a few times that I was going to hire this last guy away. I brought these guys into the org; they were extremely loyal to me for seven years, and I had worked with them at previous companies. It’s not a “long putt” to think they’d join me again.

But I was likely pushing the joke too hard or too often.

In a text, my friend shut me down. Fast. He said he was busy “cleaning up my mess.” Because it was a text, I could interpret the tone however I wanted. I took it the hard way. I felt judged. In that one word—mess—I felt like I was being told I was laid off because I was incompetent. An old doubt I thought was buried popped back to the surface. Maybe I didn’t do enough? Maybe I deserved to be let go?

I know my friend well. He likely didn’t mean it that way, but a part of me fears he did. We had different management styles. I’m an engineer; I deliver as committed,  I don’t play politics,  and I find workarounds to get the job done.

 He’s a Project Manager; he works through the hierarchy and the politics to “fix” things. I want to get it done; he wants to change the world. To be honest, I’m sure it now  is a mess—when you lose three out of four key people in a year in a department, things fall apart.

But the emotion attached to “my” mess threw me. I still feel attached to that place and those people. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

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The Loyalty of the Empire

The final shock came from that last key guy who worked for me—the one I assumed was loyal to me. I advanced his career two or three steps. But remember, he’s the one holding the bag. He is siding with the new boss. He’s agreed that the new boss is “cleaning up the issues”—the issues I stopped trying to fix and simply worked around.

It’s been ten months. We worked together for seven years. I’m shocked at how quickly he left the Vader camp to join the new Emperor. Logically, it’s about his career survival. But it still hurts.

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Changing the Retirement Script

So, what does this have to do with FIRE or retirement?

It’s about the words we use for ourselves. It’s about the vocabulary of your retirement. I’ve always been good at separating logic from emotion at work, but how many of us do that well when talking to ourselves? I don’t.

When people ask why you’re retiring, they use trigger words:

• “Lazy” –  This is a heavy one. You don’t want to work due to a flaw. It’s a trigger from my childhood, and I refuse to use it with anyone.
• “Bored” – This is a backhanded way of saying you are boring. I was bored at work when I didn’t have autonomy. Free time is what you make of it.
• “Rich” –  Depending on the tone, this implies you didn’t earn it or that you’re an “asshole.” There is also a general tone in society that “rich” people are assholes.
• “Old” – You are retiring – you must be old or will become old quickly

I need to change the script in my head so I don’t internalize those negative emotions.

• Instead of Lazy, I am “Searching”.  For something I will enjoy more. Fun to be discovered
• Instead of Bored, I am “Opportunistic.” I have my head up looking for adventures that have nothing to do with a paycheck.
• Instead of Rich, I have “Earned It.” Full stop. No guilt.
• Instead of Old,  I am taking “Ownership” of my life. With Pride

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Identity Reinforcement

Words reinforce your identity. How you see yourself.  It is very easy for me to focus on only the negative words.  It is just human nature and I need to work on changing it.  It is strange how negative emotions drive how we feel and are stickier than positive emotions. 

Ironically to end the day I was told by a different former employee I haven’t seen in two years  that I was the best boss he ever had. It felt great. But which words do you think are playing on a loop in my head tonight? The “mess” or the “best”? 

 I am trying to refocus on the word “best”.  I won’t lie, it’s hard.

A 23-year-old taught this old dog a new trick today: words matter. They can change your mind in a second. They can cause a hull breach in your identity, or they can reinforce your shields.

Maybe it’s time to focus on the positive words. 

Less Dark Side. Less Vader.

What negative  ‘words’ are you telling yourself today? What’s one word you need to flip the script on? Let me know.