Sue Pimento

Summary: "Grandsplaining" is a playful term that captures the all-too-familiar situation where younger generations offer unsolicited advice to older family members, often in a manner that is as condescending as it is unhelpful. This behaviour can be perceived as disrespectful and potentially creates awkward communication barriers, emotional strain, and family tension. Rooted in ageist stereotypes, it can even undermine elders' self-esteem. Here, we explore alternatives to grandsplaining, including the radical concepts of genuinely listening, asking open-ended questions, demonstrating empathy, and avoiding assumptions. These suggestions aim to help adult children support their older family members—not merely swoop in with a "fix-it" attitude. The Disrespectful Impact of Condescending Advice on Seniors When I helped older Canadians navigate financing their retirements, I often witnessed what can only be described as "grandsplaining in the wild." Conversations between adult children and their elders usually felt less like dialogues and more like lectures—one-sided advice sessions that left everyone gritting their teeth. The younger relative, likely well-meaning, would offer suggestions like, “You should downsize and buy a condo,” “Sell and rent,” or, the pièce de resistance, “Move in with family!” Judging by the withering looks from their elders, it was clear this approach wasn’t winning any "Favorite Child" awards. The older family members often felt patronized, as though their decades of life experience had been conveniently forgotten. The advice was condescending, painfully obvious, and usually impractical or unwanted. The dynamic reminded me of the cringeworthy experience of being "mansplained." And that’s when it hit me: this is “grandsplaining.” Unfortunately, grandsplaining can turn retirement planning conversations into a crash course on how not to communicate! Fortunately, with a little effort (and much less lecturing), families can turn this ship around and build stronger, more respectful relationships. What is "Grandsplaining"? In an age where communication flows freely across digital platforms, I define "grandsplaining" as a colloquial expression to describe a situation where younger generations offer unsolicited advice to older individuals, often patronizing or condescendingly. Grandsplaining typically involves a younger person explaining something to an older individual in a way that belittles their experience or intelligence. The term combines "grand" (suggesting age or status) and "splaining" (a slang term for condescendingly explaining something). While the intention behind such advice may often be well-meaning, the delivery can be patronizing, reinforcing stereotypes about aging and competence. This behaviour can significantly undermine the dignity and autonomy of seniors, leading to feelings of frustration, resentment, and a sense of being marginalized. Understanding the nuances of grandsplaining sheds light on intergenerational dynamics in these conversations. We must find a better, more respectful, and effective way to communicate with our elders considering retiring. The phenomenon of grandsplaining can manifest in various contexts, not just financing retirement—whether it’s discussing technology, lifestyle choices, healthcare options, or even social norms. For instance, a grandchild might explain how to use a smartphone app to a grandparent, assuming that the older generation cannot understand it despite their own lifelong experience with technology in different forms. Communication Breakdown In an era where financial literacy and retirement planning are more crucial than ever, "grandsplaining" has become a significant barrier to effective communication between generations. Retirees often feel overwhelmed or dismissed when their relatives provide unsolicited advice, especially if it contradicts their wants or financial strategies. This can lead to a reluctance to engage in discussions about finances, creating a rift that undermines the potential for collaborative planning. When adult children dominate conversations with preconceived notions of financial management, it stifles the opportunity for seniors to express their feelings, share their knowledge, and collaborate on effective retirement strategies. The Generation Gap in Financial Understanding Adult children may rely on outdated financial paradigms that no longer apply to their elders' realities. The economic landscape has changed dramatically over the past few decades, with shifts in real estate markets, a lack of formal retirement plans, and longer life expectancies. This generational gap can lead to misguided advice that does not consider modern challenges such as retiring with debt, little or no pension income, or rising living costs. Emotional Strain and Family Tension When relatives impose their views, it can evoke frustration, resentment, or inadequacy in their elders. This dynamic can shift the conversation from one focused on financial empowerment to one steeped in emotional conflict and shame. Instead of fostering a supportive environment for discussing retirement goals, grandsplaining can create adversarial relationships where seniors feel belittled or pressured, further complicating an already sensitive topic. Erosion of Autonomy When relatives try to impose their methods or strategies, it can undermine the seniors’ independence, making them feel a lack of control over their finances. Financial decisions are deeply personal and often intertwined with individual circumstances, goals, and values. This loss of agency not only affects financial outcomes but can also impact the mental well-being of older adults, leading to feelings of incompetence or anxiety about their financial futures. The Context of Ageism The implications of ageism are particularly concerning in a rapidly changing world characterized by technological advancements and unprecedented changes in social norms. While younger generations may genuinely wish to assist their elders in navigating these changes, their actions can reinforce negative stereotypes rather than empower seniors. Grandsplaining highlights the generational divide, creating an "us versus them" mentality that hinders collaboration and mutual understanding. Grandsplaining is deeply intertwined with ageism, a pervasive societal attitude that discriminates against individuals based on their age. Ageism manifests in various forms, including stereotypes that depict older adults as technologically inept, resistant to change, or incapable of learning. These stereotypes can lead to the marginalization of seniors within families and communities. Not cool! When younger generations adopt a condescending tone, they inadvertently reinforce ageist stereotypes that portray older adults as out of touch or incapable. This affects individual relationships and perpetuates societal narratives devaluing older individuals' contributions and wisdom. The Impact on Relationships Grandsplaining can strain relationships between generations, fostering resentment and conflict. For many seniors, unsolicited advice can infringe on their autonomy, making them feel infantilized or disrespected. I've seen firsthand how parents can react defensively to younger family members and sometimes withdraw altogether from conversations. When assistance is delivered condescendingly, it can backfire. The resulting tension may prevent meaningful conversations about important topics, such as healthcare decisions or lifestyle changes, which are crucial for seniors' well-being. The Psychological Impact on Seniors Being on the receiving end of condescending advice can also lead to diminished self-esteem and increased feelings of inadequacy. Seniors may begin to internalize the belief that they are not capable of making sound decisions or understanding new concepts, which can further exacerbate issues related to aging, such as cognitive decline and depression.  Encouraging Respectful Communication with Seniors Addressing the issue of grandsplaining requires a concerted effort from both younger and older generations to cultivate respectful communication. Here are several strategies to foster more positive intergenerational interactions: 1. Actively Listen: Younger people should prioritize active listening when engaging with seniors. This involves hearing what the older person says and validating their experiences and perspectives. Younger people can create a more respectful dialogue by acknowledging their knowledge and expertise. 2. Seek to Understand: Younger generations must approach conversations with empathy. To quote Stephen Covey's wise words, "Seek first to understand, then to be understood."  Recognizing seniors' challenges, such as health issues or technological gaps, can foster a sense of compassion. This approach can help bridge the generational divide and promote more constructive conversations. 3. Avoid Assumptions: The tendency to assume that older adults are out of touch or incapable can lead to grandsplaining. Instead, younger individuals should avoid making assumptions about seniors’ knowledge or abilities. Asking questions like “What do you think about this?” or “How do you feel about that?” can empower seniors to share their insights and experiences. 4. Offer Support, Not Solutions: Ask questions like, “What does a successful retirement look like to you? How do you plan to finance your retirement? Do you want to stay in this home? Are you open to moving? If so, where? Do you have enough in savings? How can I support you in having an independent and dignified retirement”? 5. Understand the Bigger Picture: Don’t assume that the traditional strategies of downsizing, selling, renting, or moving in with family are reasonable solutions for your elder in today’s economic environment. These retirement strategies are problematic for today’s seniors. In most cases, downsizing only works financially if the retiree is willing to move to a smaller, more affordable community. Most seniors want to stay in their communities and not move away from family, friends, churches, or familiar shops and services. Selling, renting, or moving in with family requires the sale of their significant appreciating asset. Given today's longer life expectancies, it's not always a wise choice. 6. Humour: By skillfully using humour, you can turn potentially patronizing situations into moments of connection and shared joy, ensuring that conversations with elders remain meaningful, respectful and memorable. For example, you could start the conversation this way; "The last thing I want to do is give you advice. That would be ridiculous. You’re the wise sensei here—I’m just the clueless apprentice trying to save enough downpayment to buy a shoebox of a house." This approach humorously flips the script, poking fun at the presumptuousness of unsolicited advice while emphasizing the elder's experience and wisdom. People often feel judged or vulnerable when discussing finances or significant life changes. Humour shifts the dynamic, showing that you approach the conversation as an ally, not an adversary. For example: "Talking about budgets isn’t fun for anyone—I mean, who loves math? But it’s worth it if we can figure out how to turn this retirement conversation into Canada Day rather than Labour Day!" This playful approach lowers barriers, making the discussion feel collaborative rather than critical. Laughter fosters connection. Sharing a laugh creates a sense of camaraderie, making it easier for people to open up about sensitive topics. When elders feel that you’re not judging them but partnering with them—and can make them smile—they’re far more likely to trust your intentions and take your advice seriously. Humour invites the other person to join the conversation, breaking the ice and encouraging them to share their thoughts. It sets a tone that the conversation is a dialogue, not a lecture. Example: "You’ve been making great financial decisions for decades. I’m here to ensure we don’t accidentally end up with a basement full of K-tel Veg-O-Matics… unless that’s the plan?" This allows them to laugh, respond, and engage while respecting their autonomy. A word of caution.  Humour is only effective when paired with genuine respect and sensitivity. Pay attention to your elder's reactions and adapt if they seem uncomfortable or unamused. The goal is to build rapport, not to win laughs at their expense. Using humour skillfully, you can turn potentially patronizing situations into moments of connection and shared joy, ensuring that conversations with elders are respectful and memorable. Before You Go Good financial planning thrives on clear communication, but grandsplaining tends to turn productive discussions into monologues that undermine elder autonomy and trigger emotional static. To create a more harmonious environment, families should swap their megaphones for listening ears and embrace a collaborative approach that respects seniors' wisdom and frames younger relatives’ financial theories as conversation starters, not TED Talks. After all, when it comes to navigating retirement planning, a little less "know-it-all" and a bit more "let’s figure it out together" can go a long way. Think of it as building a bridge, not a lecture podium—because nothing says "family unity" like tackling compound interest together! Don’t Retire…Re-Wire! Sue My Book is Now Available for Pre-Order I hope you will consider pre-ordering a copy of Your Retirement Reset for you, a friend or loved one. It's available September 8, 2026 published by ECW Press You can now order at Indigo or Amazon. And if you love supporting Canadian booksellers, please also check with your local independent bookstore. Most can easily order it for you.

I have a confession to make. My wife Bonnie and I are addicts. Not the kind that requires an intervention, exactly, but close. We are addicted to home improvement. We are always planning the next upgrade, the next project, the next thing to tear apart and make better. It gives us genuine pleasure and a profound sense of accomplishment. Bonnie leads most of these endeavours. She is remarkably capable with power tools and can pull off a tool belt like she is strutting down a Home Depot runway (aisle). Our shared obsession has even spawned a series of Facebook posts called the 2 Capable Women, where we document everything from felling trees to the deeply humbling art of Ikea assembly. So there we were, driving in traffic, and Bonnie was telling me about her next project: removing the circa-1960 wood panelling and replacing it with modern shiplap. Mid-conversation, she went quiet for a moment and said, almost to herself, “I guess I need to allow myself the grace to fail.” I nearly drove off the road. You must understand something about Bonnie. She is a self-declared perfectionist. Not casually. She is committed to being a perfectionist at being a perfectionist. So, hearing those words come out of her mouth, unprompted, while discussing a renovation project, was like hearing your accountant quote Oprah. It stopped me completely. The truth has a certain ring to it. I heard that bell loud and clear. Because sometimes wisdom does not arrive in a lecture hall or a leadership book or a TED talk. Sometimes it arrives in a car, in traffic, from the person sitting next to you holding a coffee and thinking about shiplap. That phrase has not left me since. Many of us do this. We replay mistakes endlessly, convinced that self-criticism is somehow productive. We lie awake revisiting conversations and missteps, assuming that if we beat ourselves up long enough, we will emerge wiser. All we accomplish is a thorough self-beating followed by self-flagellation. Lots of noise. Zero progress. Zero calories burned. This is not just a problem for people climbing mountains or starting businesses. It plays out in perfectly ordinary moments. You send an email and immediately wish you had worded it differently. You make a comment at dinner that lands wrong and spend three days replaying it. You make a small error at work and carry it around like luggage for a week. The inner courtroom convenes regardless. Most of us are not failing spectacularly. We are just living, occasionally getting things slightly wrong, and treating that as evidence of something deeply and permanently wrong with us. It is not. It is just Tuesday. I have been thinking about this a lot lately because I am in the middle of my MBA at the Sprott School of Business. I wrote about My MBA at age 69 in Part I and Part II. Back in graduate school after four decades in the workforce, opportunities to feel uncomfortable, uncertain, and occasionally like you have wandered into the wrong building are plentiful. A recent assignment on crafting Team Charters and enhancing my leadership skills inspired me to write a personal manifesto for my graduate studies and to take a closer look at myself. You can read mine here. While working through it, I made a surprising discovery. Most of the commitments I was making to myself had nothing to do with school. They were about life. Read the instructions carefully. Ask for help sooner. Pay attention to what your emotions are trying to tell you. Trust your experience. Hold yourself to your own standards. And this one, which stopped me cold, and sounded very familiar: Allow yourself the grace to fail. There was that bell again. Those six words turned out to be the most important thing I wrote. Not because failure is something to celebrate, but because the willingness to risk it is the price of admission for virtually everything worth doing. Failure is not a topic most of us rush toward. It is about as pleasant as stubbing your toe in the dark. Yet every meaningful thing I have ever done required me to risk it. Starting a new career. Leading a sales team. Launching a business. Climbing a mountain. Writing a book. Going back to school at 69. None of it came with guarantees. All of it came with uncertainty, mistakes, and moments where I genuinely wondered whether I had lost my mind. The jury is still out on some of those. The irony is that failure and growth are inseparable. Dweck (2006) found that people who view setbacks as learning opportunities rather than evidence of inadequacy are more likely to persevere and ultimately succeed. Duckworth (2016) agreed, and in Grit, one of my favourite books, long-term success depends less on talent and more on the willingness to keep going after things fall apart. Neff (2023) added that people who respond to failure with self-compassion rather than harsh self-judgment show greater improvement and are more likely to try again. The friction produced by failure is often exactly what generates learning, but only if we give ourselves enough grace to stay in the game. I see this everywhere. Professionals are staying in jobs they no longer enjoy because starting over feels too risky. Retirees hesitate to try something new because they might not be good at it right away. Students who will not ask a question because they do not want to appear uninformed. And if I am being honest, I see it in myself. Every time I hesitate to contribute to class because everyone else seems younger and sharper. Every time I catch myself wondering whether I belong in the room. One exercise has helped me enormously. When I catch myself spiralling into negative self-talk, I imagine my five-year-old self standing beside me, listening. Would that little girl feel encouraged? Not a chance. So why do we think inner dialogue helps us? A recent example: I made a point in a meeting that got a polite nod and complete silence. You know the silence. The one that could mean anything from “interesting” to “what on earth did she just say?” I replayed that moment for two days. Eventually, I asked a colleague how the meeting had gone, and she said she barely remembered it. The forensic investigation was conducted entirely in my own head. I am not suggesting we lower our standards. We should hold ourselves accountable, learn from our mistakes, and strive to do better. But there is a meaningful difference between accountability and cruelty. Between reflection and rumination. Between learning from a mistake, and building a summer cottage on top of it, and checking in every long weekend. I worry about what this means for the generation behind us. Research by Professor Gabriel Rubin at Montclair State University found that despite living in one of the safest periods in history, Gen Z perceives risk virtually everywhere (Rubin, 2023). They have grown up knowing that at any moment, someone has a phone. One stumble, one terrible dance move, and the clip is posted before you catch your breath. Permanent, searchable, shareable public failure is something entirely new, and the consequences are showing up in surprising places. Monocle magazine noted young people standing completely still on nightclub dance floors, phones in hand, unable to lose themselves to the music. The club has become a stage, and the crowd has become the content. Instead of dancing, people film. Instead of connection, there is performance. This is not a small thing. Dancing is how humans have always signalled availability, built trust, and found each other. It requires a willingness to look slightly absurd. If we have raised a generation so terrified of being captured mid-stumble that they will not move to the music, we have handed surveillance culture a victory it does not deserve. Calculated risks lead to new opportunities, foster innovation, and teach lessons that comfort never could (Rubin, 2023). Risk aversion makes short-term sense. As a way of life, it quietly closes doors that were never meant to stay shut. Give yourself and the young people around you, explicit permission to be unpolished in public. To dance badly. To say the wrong thing and survive it. The phone will always be there. So, fortunately, will the music. Here is what I keep learning inside this MBA: wisdom arrives disguised as failure. The assignments that challenge me teach me more than the ones that come easily. The questions I most resist asking are usually the most important. I did not expect graduate school to teach me this. Then again, I did not expect to be here at seventy. I no longer think in terms of Wins and Losses. Those categories are too simple. I think in terms of Wisdom and Learning. Success builds confidence. Setbacks build insight. Both move us forward. Read that again. So the next time you find yourself at two in the morning replaying something you said three days ago, ask whether your five-year-old self would find your internal monologue useful. If the answer is no, offer yourself a little grace. Which brings me back to Bonnie. Last weekend, she pulled off that 1960s panelling. Every last piece. It was messy and uncertain, and at several points she was unsure what she would find underneath. There were surprises. There were moments of doubt. She kept going anyway. By the end of the weekend, the shiplap was going up, clean and bright and exactly right. She did not do it perfectly. She did it anyway. And it is beautiful. That is the whole lesson, right there, delivered by a woman with a pry bar and a tool belt, on a weekend in June. Failure is not the enemy. Most of the time it is just fear wearing a funny hat. And if you are lucky, it will teach you something genuinely worth knowing. Sometimes it comes from a research paper. Sometimes it comes from your wife, in a car thinking out loud about shiplap. Either way, listen for the bell. Writing my manifesto was one of the most clarifying things I did this year. Not because it solved anything, but because it forced me to decide, on paper, who I was going to be when things got hard. I want that for you, too. So I created the ReWirement Manifesto: a simple template for anyone navigating a new chapter, a big transition, or simply a Tuesday that did not go as planned. It is not a bucket list. It is not a vision board. It is a set of honest commitments you make to yourself, in your own words, that you can return to when your inner courtroom calls you to order. Download your free ReWirement Manifesto template here. Fill it in. Keep it somewhere you can find it. And the next time you are staring at a wall of 1960s panelling, wondering if you are in over your head, remember: the grace to fail is not a consolation prize. It is the whole point. Don’t Retire…Re-Wire! Sue My Book is Now Available for Pre-Order I hope you will consider pre-ordering a copy of Your Retirement Reset for you, a friend or loved one. It's available September 8, 2026 published by ECW Press You can now order at Indigo or Amazon. And if you love supporting Canadian booksellers, please also check with your local independent bookstore. Most can easily order it for you.

My friend, Linda, retired at 66 after 35 years as a school principal. She had done everything right. Pension. Savings. No debt. A financial plan so airtight that her advisor framed it. On her first Monday of retirement, she drove to the grocery store, stood in front of the fancy olive oil, and put the $23 bottle back on the shelf. She grabbed the $10 one instead. That night, she called me, genuinely distressed. "Sue," she said, "I don't know how to spend the money." Linda is not alone. Her problem is not a math problem. It is a brain problem. Welcome to the neuroscience of aging and money, where biology is ageist, your prefrontal cortex is quietly retiring before you do, and the financial industry has somehow spent decades teaching you to save without ever explaining how to stop. What Is Actually Happening in That Brain of Yours As we age, the prefrontal cortex, the part of your brain responsible for planning, decision-making, and impulse regulation, starts to lose its edge. Meanwhile, the amygdala, the emotional centre, gains more influence. The result? Decisions that feel more emotional, more risk-averse, and sometimes more impulsive, depending on which way your wiring maps. Research published by Agarwal, S., Driscoll, J. C., Gabaix, X., & Laibson, D. found that financial decision-making peaks around age 53 and then declines steadily. This is not because older adults are less intelligent, but because the cognitive systems that weigh risk and reward begin to operate differently. Biology is ageist, as evidenced by the fact that your brain begins to change its relationship with money before you have even figured out what to do with it. A recent study from the National Bureau of Economic Research found that older adults are significantly more likely to make financial mistakes on both ends of the spectrum: excessive caution and excessive spending. The brain does not uniformly tighten the purse strings. It amplifies whatever pattern was already there. If you were a careful saver, you would become an Olympic penny-pincher. If you were a spender, you would become a one-person economic stimulus package. You become an exaggerated version of your younger self. Which is charming in theory and occasionally catastrophic in practice. Team Tight-Wad: All Chips, No Salsa You know the type. Actually, you might be the type. These are the people who still have their first chequebook, who compare per-unit prices for paper towels with the focus of a neurosurgeon, and who have not eaten at a restaurant without a coupon since the second Harper government. They are not cheap. They are terrified. As the prefrontal cortex loosens its grip on rational future planning, the fear of running out, what I call FORO (Fear of Running Out), takes the driver's seat. It whispers things like: what if the market crashes, what if I get sick, what if I live to 102 and run out of money at 99? And so the tight-wad doubles down. The $23 olive oil goes back on the shelf. The vacation gets postponed. The grandchildren's birthday gifts get slightly less grand. All chips, no salsa. You have built a pile of financial security and are sitting on it, stiff, virtuous, and mildly hungry, while the dip goes untouched. The tight-wad's greatest risk is not poverty. It is regret. Researchers at Cornell University found that people in the final chapters of their lives consistently reported regretting what they did not do far more than what they did. That trip not taken. That renovation not done. That bottle of good olive oil not purchased. FORO kept them safe and small, and the memory of that smallness stings. Team Spend-Thrift: All Salsa, No Chips On the other side of the spectrum, we have the spend-thrifts. As the emotional centres become more active and impulse regulation less reliable, some people lean into the "you only live once" philosophy. They book the trip to Portugal. They buy the golf club they do not need. They pick up the tab for dinner for eight people they met three hours ago. They are generous, spontaneous, and occasionally mystified by their bank statements. Research from Harvard Business School confirms that spending money on experiences and on others generates a meaningful boost in wellbeing. Spend-thrifts are onto something. The problem is sustainability. If the prefrontal cortex is not doing its job by asking "do we actually need this," the credit card bill arrives, and this is why we can't have nice things. Spend-thrifts also tend to underestimate longevity. A 65-year-old Canadian woman today can expect to live, on average, past 87. That is more than two decades of retirement to fund. All salsa, no chips is a delicious way to start a party and a terrible way to sustain it. The Gap Nobody Talks About: Permission to Spend Here is where I want to say something that gets almost no airtime in the financial services industry. We have an enormous education gap on this side of retirement. The entire financial industry, including the advisors, the institutions, the calculators, the seminars, and the books, has spent decades teaching people how to accumulate money. How to save. How to invest. How to sacrifice the latte. The message has been so relentless that it has rewired the way people feel about spending. And then retirement arrives. And nobody says: Okay, you can stop now. You can actually use this. This is what it was for. Switching from accumulation to decumulation requires real support, real education, and genuine permission. It is not a switch you flip. It is a gear shift that many people never make successfully. They arrive at retirement financially prepared but psychologically stuck. Honestly? The mother of all eye rolls is reserved for the financial institution that still calls it a savings account when you are 72. You are not saving anymore. You are managing a spending pool. Here is my modest proposal: once you turn 65, your savings account becomes your spending account. Not a radical rebranding. A psychological one. Words matter. Framing matters. Every time you log in and see the word "spending," your brain starts to normalize the idea that this money has a purpose, and that purpose is your life. Clients need financial therapists as much as they need financial planners. They need someone to look them in the eye and say: you earned this, you saved this, and spending it wisely and joyfully is not a failure of discipline. It is the entire point. Self-Awareness Is the Cheapest Investment You Will Ever Make Recognizing your pattern is step one. If you have not bought anything for yourself that was not on sale in the past calendar year, that is data. If you cannot remember the last time you checked your balance before a purchase, that is also data. Neither is a character flaw. Your brain is doing what it is supposed to do. Step two is to get the right support and give yourself explicit permission. A good retirement income specialist asks what you want your money to do for you now, not just how long it needs to last. A financial therapist helps you untangle your emotional history with money. At some point, you write it down: I am allowed to spend on things that bring me joy, keep me healthy, and connect me to the people I love. Post it somewhere you will see it when you are standing in front of the fancy olive oil. The Punchline Linda eventually bought the $23 olive oil. It took four months, a conversation with her advisor, and an honest chat with her daughter, who pointed out that Linda had about 90 jars of tomato sauce in her basement and no good reason to be rationing condiments. The brain changes that come with ageing are real. They are not personal failures. They are biology doing biology things, loudly and without your consent. But brains are also remarkably responsive to information, reframing, and the occasional kick in the pants from someone who loves you. You spent decades building financial security. The goal was never to die with the most money. It was a good life. All chips AND salsa. The full spread. The $23 olive oil on the good bread, with the people you love. Your spending account is waiting. Honestly, it has been waiting long enough. Because nobody wins a prize for being the richest person in the graveyard. Don’t Retire…Re-Wire! Sue My Book is Now Available for Pre-Order I hope you will consider pre-ordering a copy of Your Retirement Reset for you, a friend or loved one. It's available September 8, 2026 published by ECW Press You can now order at Indigo or Amazon. And if you love supporting Canadian booksellers, please also check with your local independent bookstore. Most can easily order it for you.