My last day at work was August 31. My contract at a school had expired and I was looking forward to a break. I'm 52 and have been working since June 4, 1973, a week before my 17th birthday. I felt I'd earned a rest.
My plan was simple: I'd enjoy what was left of the lousy summer, go cycling for a week in the Alps and, when I got back, start looking for another job.
It wouldn't be hard to find one, would it? How wrong I was.
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