When I'm done, I'm done

It use to be the British are coming.
Now, it's the Boomers are leaving.
In case you haven't heard, the eldest of the baby boom generation are set to reach their 65th year, traditionally retirement age, in 2011.
I'm sneaking in a year earlier.
Since I was born the day the war ended (Aug. 14, 1945) I've never known whether to call myself a war baby or a boomer. In honour of my birthday, my initials are VJ. My parents, a little reluctant to name me Victoria Japan, settled on Vicky Joan.
Yesterday, the federal government asked me to continue working beyond my 65th birthday. Apparently, a sever labour shortage is in the cards.
When former U.S. president John F. Kennedy said, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country," little did I know, someday, I'd be expected to rally to the call of Canada.
Cutting through the government jargon that focused the pending lack of a labour surplus, I translated the message: "Would we baby boomers be so kind as to shelve our retirement plans and work until we drop."
The government spin doctor responsible for the labour-shortage alert was likely born around the time I'd been on the job 20 years.
When I retire in three years, I'll have worked 47 years. Sorry, Canada. When I turn 65, the jig's up.
In its simplest form, a labour shortage exists where there are not enough people to fill needed jobs. Well boo-hoo, Canada. Here's my answer: "Go tell somebody who cares."