One year left in this cubicle.
That’s when all the wild questions start sneaking in: “What am I even doing?” “I can’t afford to lose this paycheck!” “I’ll be bored out of my skull—so I have to keep working!” The bravery to walk away from this routine feels just out of reach.
You hear stories: some people hit financial independence and stick around, while others set a date and quietly exit when it arrives. Part of me wants to stay a few more years and build the nest egg even bigger.
There are a few hang-ups that make quitting hard. First, the steady stream of money is addictive. You’ve been getting paychecks for years—do you really think you’ll just stop? What about the benefits: health care, cheap life insurance, stock plans, and employer-matched accounts like 401(k)s and HSAs? Every other week that deposit shows up like clockwork. It’s hard to break that habit.
Routine is another big thing. We humans love predictability. We function best when days follow a familiar pattern. Sure, long vacations are great, but give most people six months at home and they start feeling an unexpected 9-to-5 itch. We daydream about sleeping in and napping on weekdays, joke about being “in the Bahamas” during boring calls—and then, when it’s actually time to leave, we lose the structure that kept us steady.
Worried about losing prestige? That’s real too. Climbing the corporate ladder comes with little symbols of status—your perceived authority. When you quit, your influence can suddenly shrink to family and friends, and even they might poke fun at you for being “unemployed.” Sure, you can get a dog or garden, but adjusting to a lower profile can be tough, especially if you enjoyed rising through the ranks. That’s why many ex-presidents stay busy after leaving office—to keep a sense of authority.
Here’s the good news: for most people, retirement doesn’t suck. The earlier you quit, the easier it is to adapt to life without steady pay, the 9-to-5 routine, and status worries. Think of early retirement as a head start—don’t get so used to working that you can’t imagine staying home. If you want the freedom, plan for it.
Money is the X-factor. Building a big enough stash until you’re financially independent is crucial—F-you money, basically. The simplest way to get there: save and invest aggressively (50% or more of your income if you can), avoid unnecessary debt and wasteful spending, and grow your earnings.
Years ago I worked at a company with a floor of commodity traders. I was the on-call IT guy—basically the go-to tech fixer, fresh out of college. It was a decent place, and I liked helping people get their work done. Being young in a big company meant socializing with peers, too, and I met some fun people outside the office.
One trader I knew—let’s call him Jesse—became my guitar mentor. He played in a local rock band and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than at his 9-to-5. One day I helped him set up a program on his PC—this was back when Windows 3.1 ran on 486 machines, if that tells you anything. I popped by his desk a few times that day, and each time his chair was empty with the screen still on. Near five o’clock, same thing—no Jesse. He’d just walked out and never came back. I was stunned. He didn’t even grab much—just his cigarettes and lighter. Bold move.
Turns out he ended up at a competitor in a similar job; he didn’t run off to play guitar in Bali like I imagined. Still, I’ll never forget witnessing that walkout. Years later he kept playing music, had a decent band for a while, and—surprise—he’s planning to retire early.
Quitting, or “quiet quitting” if you’re not aiming for full retirement, is a real part of an early retirement plan. You don’t have to storm out like Jesse (cool as that is). I’d rather leave with class, on top of my game.
I hope this makes you picture your own last day at work. If that vision nudges you toward early retirement, go for it—there’s a big community out there to help. By this time next year we’ll be mortgage-free. Our cash flow should support $50K–$60K a year in expenses. I’ll miss the paycheck, but with a rental business and this blog, I don’t worry about losing routine. Prestige? I’m not an executive, so I didn’t give that up.
I’ve had an office for four years. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be—though, granted, farting with the door closed has its perks.