Attending a Conference As a Retiree (this time with former peers)

As a journalist, there are two types of events you typically attend:

News-making events where the focus is on non-journalism things (this is most common);
Professional development and networking events where most other attendees are also journalists.

The first conference I traveled to post-retirement was type number-one, the kind of event I typically covered and wrote about as a tech journalist. That was a lot less strange than I expected, especially since I ended up writing an article from an idea I got there.

A week ago I attended my first type number-two event: a data journalism conference called NICAR put on by Investigative Reporters and Editors. If one of your happy places is the intersection of “tech nerd” and “reporter”, this is a great experience.

As I expected, it was different attending in retirement compared with when I was a full-time working journalist.

I was still on the hunt for ideas to help with freelance stories and projects. But it is vastly different to be thinking about “possible future projects” under no deadline pressure beyond my own, versus the pressure of showing more immediate results to an employer.

Overall, it was energizing and fun to learn things largely for the joy of learning. In the past, I had to prioritize sessions that most related to my readers and my job. Last week, I attended any session I wanted.

I also still “networked” with people, but with zero thought to helping a career I no longer have. Instead, I simply enjoyed talking with a lot of smart people willing to share their knowledge – both people I know in the field from when I was working, and those I met for the first time. And it was nice to chat with people who still remembered some of my work.

What was more unsettling? It started when I arrived at the conference hotel and saw what you usually see at any event where there are journalists: Lots of working reporters scattered around at available tables, pounding away on their laptops. Unlike them, though, I had no stories to file or edit on deadline. While it was nice to have my time as my own to explore and chat with people, it was also odd.

As it turned out, I ended up working on a volunteer project I launched six years ago to compile and categorize all the resources from the conference that presenters made public (and I could find). In fact, one of the first people I saw at the conference was a Chicago-based data journalist who told me she often uses my tool. That felt great! I ended up pounding away on my laptop a bit after all to add links to slide presentations and code repositories for this year. So, that strangeness eased.

Next came picking up my badge, which had a big “Retired” on it as my affiliation. Not formerly + my prior employer. Not “freelancer”, which I didn’t put as my affiliation because that implies “making my living as a full-time freelancer,” which I’m not. But “Retired.” Which is true, and I’m generally happy with that identity. However, at a conference where people often peg you based on looking at your badge to see who you are and what your work is, I would have preferred “Retired tech journalist” so people would know the field where I had - and like to think I still have - some expertise.

Also at the conference, the awards ceremony felt strange. I never competed for IRE awards, since I didn’t think my work fit well. However, I did once co-win a national gold award for impact/investigative journalism (from the American Society of Business Press Editors), and won several other awards throughout my career. Like many journalists, I didn’t win more often than I won when entering awards competitions . . . but the fact that I probably won’t ever even be entering anymore did kind of hit home.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all, though, was returning home. NICAR is the kind of conference where you usually generate a load of actionable ideas – more, in fact, than you’d ever have time for. I’d typically leave with a bunch of data projects I wanted to do once back at work. Not all of them happened, but some certainly did.

This year, I came home with a couple of longer-range story ideas and a few tech projects I want to dive into, but nothing pressing in the next few weeks. That was super odd. Even stranger, I had no colleagues to talk with about ideas we could work on together.

It all wasn’t nearly enough to wish I was working full time again. However, it was a good reminder about life transitions. No matter how eagerly you look forward to a next phase – whether it’s going off to college, getting married, moving to a new city, or leaving full-time work for retirement – there are people and things you leave behind. And you may still miss them, even if your new phase is going well.

That doesn’t mean you’ve made a mistake by moving on. It means you’ve chosen to change, and to grow.

It means you’re human.