Remain calm; all is well; it’ll be fine; really

“Would you like a smiley sticker, little girl?”

“Good morning.”

“Aisle 27B, next to the dish towels.”

I’ve been practicing phrases while I smile in the mirror.

It’s my new retirement strategy. Limp along until 65 and then work as a Wal-Mart greeter until age 89 or so.

My old strategy — a steady, lifelong investment in the stock market — has hit some unexpected turbulence.

They keep telling us not to panic.

To which I say: “Why not?”

The country, the world, is in an economic meltdown of unparalleled proportion, scope and complexity. People bring boxes with them to work just in case they have to clear their desks out. The government has spent trillions of our dollars for bailouts with the same effects as a Nerf arrow against a raging elephant.

No, I think panic’s pretty much the right emotion.

My investment guy used to tell me there’d be “market corrections” at times, but that these blips always passed quickly. Stay in the market, he said, it’s the only place to be.

I’ve been looking for him lately. But he always seems to be out of his office. I’m pretty sure he’s still around, though. I think I’ve seen him when I’ve been hiding in the bushes in his yard at night.

Technically, I guess, some might call it stalking. But, really, who’s going to convict me?

(“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Yes, my client stalked and tormented this man, this financial adviser. We admit, he did lock him in a dog kennel in his basement for a few nights. But which of you wouldn’t have loved to do the same thing if you only had the guts.”)

Wal-Mart is one of the few companies still seeing a little growth, which is a good thing. We need them to do well. With all the baby boomers nearing retirement in the next decade or so, there are going to have to be several million more Wal-Marts built to supply enough greeter jobs.

Back in the day, when my “portfolio” was building steadily, I used to go to Barnes & Noble, order a high-priced drink and pull a magazine called Backwoods Home magazine off the shelf.

It’s filled with articles about making knives from antlers, building homemade stills, canning beets and a step-by-step guide to skinning a rabbit.

I read it with bemused aloofness. Poor saps making all their own things and finding their food. I had a $14 triple frappuccino caramel mocha super deluxe and a growing nest egg.

Recently, though, I’ve been reading the articles a little closer as I sip from a small, black coffee.

In the evenings, I’ve been practicing sneaking up on the cottontails in the yards of lower North Mankato. They’re high in protein, taste like chicken and are free for the taking. And you can use their gut to tie the handle onto your homemade hatchet.

This self-sufficient lifestyle stuff is starting to look a little less loopy. I probably wouldn’t make a good Wal-Mart greeter, anyway. I don’t tolerate people all that well and I’m a bit opinionated.

I don’t think Sam Walton had me in mind to meet his customers.

(“Hey lady, why don’t you shut your little brat up. And do you think you really need to buy that big bag of Cheetos? Looks like you could afford to drop a few pounds.”)

No, I think figuring out how to take care of yourself and your family might not be such a bad idea.

Gotta go. I just saw a big, fat cottontail hop by.



Tim Krohn is a Free Press staff writer. He can be contacted at 344-6383 or tkrohn @mankatofreepress.com.