When I put my retirement papers in at the Pentagon, it would take 90 days for them to go through.
The sergeant who ran my printing department also worked part time for a large printing company in Washington, D.C. When his boss found out I was retiring, he offered me the job of running his shop. I turned the job down. I would not drive in Washington, D.C., let alone work there.
I returned to Fairfield, Calif., looking to buy a house and paid a visit to my old job at Travis Air Force Base where I worked for 13 years. I was offered my job back as a civilian. I turned the job down.
After I bought my house and was in downtown Fairfield taking care of the paperwork, a retired Air Force officer whom I knew for over 20 years and who was now working for the city of Fairfield, offered me the job of running the printing department for the city. I had to turn him down.
One week later, I would start working in the job I had set up 10 years earlier, and worked 10 years part time while in charge of printing at Travis Air Force Base. I would work at this job until I was 81 years old. It was the best job I ever worked at, and the owner of the big company was like my second father.
When I retired from that job six years ago, they locked the doors and never hired another printer.
(Contributing writer Everett Vanover lives in Fairfield, Calif.)