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SUMMARY: Not my usual Sci-Fi- but I started typing and this old man had a story to tell...

"Sometimes the Hard Dollar Comes Easy"
William Hrdina

When I was a younger man, I was under the impression I'd be taken care of when I retired. I believed the brochures. They said, "Work hard, spend your money wisely, and the American Dream is just there waiting for you."
So that's just what I did. I worked 60-hour weeks, weekends, whatever. But it didn't make a lick of difference.
It turns out you don't have to be a teenager to be hopelessly naïve.
The marvelous windfall I thought would be coming in the form of Social Security and my pension ended up being nothing but a fart in the wind, silent but deadly.
Oh well. You live, you learn. You stop learning; you might as well be dead.
I remember the day I retired. I worked at the same factory from the time I was 28. I planned on traveling during my retirement, to see the world I'd neglected in my younger years. Then, two weeks after I took my last step out of that damn steel plant I hear on the CNN that some executive managed to find a way to steal the whole shebang.
They say the investigation is still ongoing, but it's been four years now and there haven't been any indictments. I'd say the investigation's closed and the rich guys won. So what else is new?
Two months after I lost my pension the CNN told me social security was belly up and the old people of America were shit out of luck.
Needless to say I don't watch the CNN anymore. The CNN is worse for my stomach than a big bowl of spicy chili. Now I pretty much just watch old re-runs of Gilligan's Island.
That Gilligan really cracks me up.
I'm sorry, I've been babbling on here and I haven't yet introduced myself. My name is Carl Throckmartin. I'm 72 years young. I know that's a hackneyed phrase, but it fits me and I'm old enough that I don't care if you don't like it.
I'm not a vain man; I can admit that I probably look a lot older than I am. I wouldn't be offended if you said I looked 87. I've always liked the outdoors and I've dried up something fierce over the years. Carl, the human prune. I was married once to the most beautiful woman I've ever known, both inside and out. She died ten years ago, when I was 62. Seems like a lifetime ago now. I've never even considered remarrying, I loved my Marjorie and no other woman could ever compare to her.
Anyway, I'm old but I still have my mind, and while everything doesn't work as well as it's used to- I'm holding together pretty well if I do say so myself.
That's not the end of the good news as far as I'm concerned. While I was enjoying my retirement, it turns out that losing all my money propelled me into my latest job, and I've come to really like it. In some ways it's the best job I've ever had.
I'm really good at it. Better than I ever thought I could be at anything.
I wish I would've realized my talent sooner; maybe I could've had a fat bank account and been impervious to things like corrupt assholes losing my money. If things had played out a bit differently, I might've even gotten to be one of those assholes myself.