The people who want to keep working forever

I visited my old newspaper office recently. Its new premises were difficult to find, tucked behind a unisex barber with access via a cranky lift or 12 flights of stairs. I chose the stairs.

It was my first visit since I left as editor more than 20 years before. I was there to deliver a book to a friend and senior journalist researching a story on Kiwis’ love of baches.

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“Can I help you?” asked a young woman.

I recognised her from her picture byline. She didn’t recognise me. “I’m here to deliver a book for Richard,” I said, glancing around in the hope of seeing a familiar face. “I’ll make sure he gets it,” she said, turning away.

What did I hope for? A flicker of recognition, a whisper between two heads: ”Isn’t she…?”

Not a peep.

I wanted to say, “I may look like some random old lady with grey hair slightly puffed after walking up 12 flights of stairs, but I am one of you. I’ve had 60 years in this business. I was editor of this paper when planes ploughed into the World Trade Centre in New York, when a princess got into a car with a drunk driver and was killed in Paris. I was on the ground during Y2K when the millennium ticked over.”

More than that, I wanted to tell them, “I’m still doing what you do. I still chase deadlines, worry over word counts and sweat over whether editors will spike a story. I am still a working journo.”

But I didn’t. Instead, I headed for the stairs.

The notion of people continuing to work into their dotage is not new. And it is no longer exceptional as Boomers like me see no reason to stop what we are doing.

Recent figures from Stats NZ record almost 90,000 of those in paid employment are aged over 70; 1257 are in their 90s.

What keeps us at it? Pride, sheer pig-headedness, or simply pure enjoyment?

We decided to find out.

I trained as a cabinet maker. Dad insisted I had a trade. He established this business as a second-hand shop in the 1950s selling mostly war assets like blankets and boots.

I bought the business on the 10th of July 1967, the same day New Zealand switched to decimal currency. It was then called Garvey’s Mart, but I could see the way the world was going. There were cheaper imports coming in from Asia. The value of second-hand products was going down. I knew the money would be in antiques, bespoke pieces that are beautifully crafted and will last a lifetime. They have style and quality and they are an investment, so I became an antique dealer.

Each piece in my shop has a story. It’s like opening a treasure chest. As a cabinet maker I know the skill that has gone in to making them. I have pieces in my shop that are as beautiful as the day they were made. I love some pieces so much I can’t bear to sell them. I don’t have any Ikea. I don’t go near Trade Me either.

I grew up in Foxton. I was going to be a jockey. The well-known horse trainer Eric Ropiha asked me to come and work for him in Palmerston North. I rode trials for him but I was too heavy to race. The riding weight was 49kg. I was somewhere between 55 and 60kg. My brother Clem was a good jockey.

When I couldn’t be a jockey, I decided to become a trainer. I leased my first horse when I was 21, which was the youngest age you could train a horse. I picked her out as a yearling from a paddock in Te Aroha. Her name was Princess Merit. She won seven races including the Herne Bay Handicap in Auckland. I was pretty green at the time and people thought I was mad to take her to Auckland to race, but she was a good one. Very competitive.

Currently I have three horses in training. One I call ‘Rocky’ (racing name Happy Venture) is racing this week. The other two are still babies. They all sing out to me when I arrive at the stables in the morning.

I’ve always loved flowers. When I was a child my grandfather came to live with us. I’d be out in the garden with him every day. I didn’t want to come in for meals. My grandmother was French and loved anything to do with flowers and art. I think it’s in my blood. Mum was the same. People used to say, ‘It’s in your fingers.’ You’ve got to have a good sense of colour, proportion and design. You either have those skills or you don’t.

I got my floristry diploma when I was 18, but I couldn’t find a job because I was so young. Dad said, ‘Why don’t you open your own business?’ He backed me and I opened the business in 1963. I was 19.

In the early days my business was next to a funeral director and we’d do flowers for up to four funerals a day. Debutante balls were also a big thing. These days school balls are huge. I’ve got three balls this week. Mother’s Day is massive. In the two days leading up to Mother’s Day this year I did 150 orders.

I used to go to the flower market at 6am every day to choose flowers, but the markets don’t exist anymore. A wholesaler buys for me. I work from 8-5 making up orders. I do get a bit tired, but I still love it.