I don’t know anything about pensions
On Saturday night my dad had a few drinks and gave me a call to say hello. Buzzed chats with him aren’t that much different from sober ones; they just tend to last longer. Usually he calls it quits at twenty minutes. This time, at forty-five minutes into his update about work projects and car clubs, I saw the chance to ask about his financial loose ends and went for it.
Clearly that was a buzzkill. The light-hearted ramblings instantly turned into vague and dismissive bullet points:
- I don’t have anything in my 401(k) so that’s a bust
- My pension stops when I die so that’s that
- I’m trying to pay down student loans and I should be able to start saving again soon
Unhelpful, but understandable. No one likes (or needs) to be reminded that they’re broke. I would know. It only took a minute for him to wind his way back to a cheery mood though, with things like “I don’t really care, you can’t take money with you when you die” and “as long as we all have food and shelter and we’re safe, I’m happy”.
It infuriated me. It always does. I never say that though. In fact, I say similar sentiments right back at him to let him know that I get it. Credit card debt sucks but we’re all just dust in the wind, right?
My dad and I look nothing alike, but our personalities are a dead give away that we’re related. We both insidiously use a “go with the flow attitude” as a way to avoid being hurt. If you never get your hopes up, or take any kind of chance on someone or something, you won’t feel much of anything if it fails. It turns out being constantly nonchalant leads to a mediocre life. One that deep down you know could be better, but not at the risk of trying something different. Why set yourself up for pain?
I can’t ultimately control if I get to move to a different neighborhood in the fall, but I can budget and plan for it, and most importantly, look forward to it. If I don’t get to for some reason, yeah I’ll be disappointed and hurt for a while. That’s all though. The way I’ve lived my life dulling myself to any sort of hope for a better future you’d think disappointment meant death. Same goes for shame. I’ve talked myself out of countless cool endeavors in the name of avoiding the possibility of being embarrassed. And for what? No one cares. In the best, most freeing way possible, no one ever truly cares.
Anyway, that’s when I realized that I don’t actually know anything about how pensions work. Does it go away when he dies? I always assumed we’d be able to inherit something from it, but I guess maybe not. Oh well.