Clue Less

Last week, I wrote about my embarrassingly belated discovery of the blog, “Living a FI,” written by LAF. Now having binge read the blog, I find that many things from it stayed with me. Most are at the macro level. Some are themes or topics specific to individual posts. But, in one instance, it’s a single line: “And as I leave the doors of my building for the final time, and I feel the eyes upon me, it occurs to me that my co-workers don’t have a clue what they’re seeing.”

Miss understanding

Like me, LAF blogs anonymously and largely kept his plans to execute the RE part of FIRE (in his 30s, mind you) a secret. In the quoted line, LAF describes the moment that he left his workplace for the last time. It struck me with tremendous force.

Perhaps that was because I’d just read all of the many detailed posts describing his journey, and here, at last, was—in one sentence—the culmination of it all. Or, perhaps it was because I found that single sentence to be an equally simple as powerful and exquisite description of the exact moment of his mic drop.

Those explanations certainly ring true. But they don’t adequately explain the degree of force with which the line struck me.

Rather, I think the explanation is the unfathomable chasm between LAF’s colleagues’ personal understanding of what they were seeing (which was LAF’s simply walking out the door to go home), and their total ignorance of what the moment and act symbolized, and what it meant for LAF. To paraphrase, LAF, his colleagues Had. No. Clue.

Show and tell

Since really throwing myself into the throes of pursuing FIRE, I’ve thought now and then how I’d let people know that I was just about to FIRE, or had just FIREd. Whether I’d tell people never really was a question. Of course I would.

But lately, likely because my FIRE date now is so close, I’ve been thinking more about this. I’m now having second thoughts. Not about how I’d tell people. But whether I’ll tell people at all.

Sure, some people are or will be in the know. The Missus, of course. And a few close friends who’ve known my end game for a few years, and whom I’ve told about my planned FIRE date. But that’s it.

Everyone else is completely in the dark. Some family, friends, and people I work with know I’m pursuing FIRE (tho they likely forgot), but never really wrapped their head around the concept of FIRE and what reaching it means. Even Thing One (The Elder) and Thing Two (The Younger)—who know a bit about FIRE and my/our pursuit of it—have no idea.

Now, on the one hand, I have to admit that it’d be pretty fun to tell friends, family, people I work with, etc. that I’m about to FIRE/have just FIREd. Not for validation, which I don’t need. But, I mean, it’s one thing to talk about FIREing. Quite another to actually do it, and thereby force people to process the fact that someone they knew was about to do/had done it. It’d be awfully fun to see people the exact moment that that knowledge bomb explodes in their head.

But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve thought keeping shtum might be a better way to go. Why? Well, here are some reasons.

Milk money

First, although we’ll have reached the point that I can FIRE, staying afloat depends upon our investments being able to provide the money we’ll need to make ends meet. My FIRE’d status will depend in large part upon those assets and, ideally, their maintenance or growth over time. I’m also especially mindful of sequence of returns risk in the first few years after FIREing.

So, the last thing that I need is people knowing that we have sizable assets and then asking us for—or milking us out of—money. Or their presuming that we can afford, and so absolutely must! buy, things we’d either not buy at all or would spend far less on than those people would. Sure, I’d always be able to say “no.” And I’m seldom shy about doing so. But I’d just as soon not even have the conversation. Others’ ignorance accomplishes that objective.

For somewhat similar reasons, I’m unlikely to tell our landlord that I’ve FIREd. We’ve got a good thing going right now. I don’t want our landlord thinking that we could afford a (huge) rent increase. No thank you.

Colleague bound

As for colleagues, I’ll likely not work with them again after FIREing. But, being an introvert who tends to jealously guard his privacy, I typically hold my cards close to my vest. In part as a means not to burn or cut off bridges. As there may—however unlikely I think at this point—come a day when I might want to work with them again, or ask one or the other of them to be a reference, I might rather they not know the full story.

Now, I’m on great terms with the people I have worked/currently work with. So, I doubt their knowledge would have any material effect on what and how much they might do for me. But you never know. Maybe it’ll change the way they think about me in such a way that they’d not be interested in being as helpful to me as they otherwise might. Why take the chance?

Don’t ask

As for close family members, I think most or all of them will never be able to wrap their heads around the concept of FIRE, much less the reality of my having voluntarily and enthusiastically decided to FIRE. I’m all but certain that they’re going to think that: (1) The Missus and I are absolutely loaded and have been keeping a secret from them for years (which, I guess, is technically true as to the latter, even if not quite as much the former, but not necessarily in the way they’d likely think); or (2) that I have completely taken leave of my senses.

If (1), they might have all sorts of questions about how we could be so rich as to allow me to live off of/run down those assets so far in advance of traditional retirement age. Or that we’ve received illicit monies. Or worse. Maybe that I’m a counterfeiter. Or a contract killer. Or the head of a company that makes electric-powered vehicles and spaceships and who has a penchant for cryptocurrencies.

If (2), each time they see or talk to me they may ask questions like, “So, are you still not working?” Or, “When are you planning to go back to work/start your company up again?” Or, “Hey, I know some people you might want to talk to about [“Job X” or “engaging your services”].” Or, they’ll constantly pester The Missus about me, asking if she’s worried/nervous, or if she and The Family are OK. Or if we need help. And so on, and so on. That, for me, would get tiresome fast. And irksome soon thereafter. Ignorance on these family members’ part—which wouldn’t be hard for us to pull off, given that they all live in other states—obviates all those discussions.

Future proofing

Now, I admit to having a habit of thinking about (sometimes far-flung) bridges that I might come to in the future and making plans for when that happens. Often that’s helpful, allowing me to think about the future, map out possible scenarios, and plan (even if in the most minimal sense) for potential outcomes.

Unlike the vast majority of people, I’ve found, I much prefer to spend more time on the front end (sometimes a lot more time) in order to preemptively eliminate challenges, or to save a trouble dealing with a foreseeable challenge once it occurs. That’s because I don’t like encountering foreseeable challenges. Also, because it often takes way more time and aggravation dealing with those challenges on the back end—and I absolutely haaate having to do that—and the headaches those challenges cause are outsized.

So, yeah, probably maybe I’m way overthinking things here and some or all of the fever-dream scenarios playing out in my head won’t ever happen. But, again, why take the chance? My zipped mouth allows me to do what I want to do with no, or few, questions, and no opportunity for false notions to take hold in the brains of family, friends, people I work with, and others in my life. Maybe the only downside being that I don’t get to tell them something cool and possibly get them to inquire as to how they, too, might FIRE.

And in the end . . .

I guess time will tell whether I come to a firmer conclusion as to whether I’ll tell people or not. But silence is becoming a more attractive option to me. In addition to all the reasons I mentioned above, silence also will prevent unwanted, eye-roll-inducing scenarios in which people try to hook me up with silly retirement products. That’s no bad thing either.