I have become so regular in some of my favorite Zagreb haunts that I am already exchanging greetings with other regulars. Most of them are my age or older. And all of them are male. Today I started talking with one of them, who sat at a neighboring table. Between ten and fifteen years my senior, he approached me first. His smile was hard to resist. As it turned out, he is a retired university professor, too. And of economics, of all subjects. Both of us on the affable side, we quickly got to the bottom of things. We both thoroughly enjoy our retirement, for example. To hell with colleagues and students! To hell with university administration! But then he surprised me: he is no less than twenty-eight years into his retirement. I felt dwarfed at once. “Congratulations,” I bowed toward him half in jest. “Beat this,” it crossed my mind a second later, “if you can.”

Addendum (February 5, 2013)

After a pause of at least a year, I bumped into the same man this morning. And in the very same place. We exchanged a few words after shaking hands with gusto. “You’re the man to follow,” I grinned. “To my shame,” I continued, “I’m retired for ten years only.” He grinned happily in turn: “Thirty years in my case!” But only then he told me how old he actually was. Ninety-two! And I thought that he was only ten to fifteen years my senior. “As I said,” I bowed half in jest one more time, “you’re the man to follow!” Twenty-six years my senior, he looks wonderful. Beat this, indeed.