Sample retirement speech

Can I have everyone's attention for a few minutes. I promise it is a few. Maureen has already told me that if I go over five she is leaving, and she would be within her rights, because as of half past four today I cannot tell her what to do. Not that I ever could.

Maureen started here thirty-one years ago. I was nine. My dad hired her for what he called "a bit of typing". Within a month she was running the place, and she has been running it ever since. Dad knew it. I know it. The only person who has ever pretended otherwise is Maureen.

She has taught three generations of this firm how to use the franking machine. None of us has ever got it right. She has kept a biscuit tin on her desk for three decades, and every new starter learns the same lesson on day one: there are no biscuits in it. It is the petty cash. The biscuits are in the filing cabinet, under B.

And she looks after this business as if it were her own. Some of you will remember the customer who owed us for a whole extension and said the cheque was in the post, for four months. Maureen saw him walk past the window one Friday. She was out of that door and down the high street before any of us had stood up. She was wearing her slippers. He paid on the Monday, in full, and I am told he still crosses the road.

But that is not really what we will miss. We will miss the person who knows every customer's name and most of their children's. Who noticed when one of the lads was struggling and quietly put the kettle on. Who told me, on my first day in charge, "You will be fine. And when you are not, I am just here." You always were.

Maureen, the allotment does not know what is coming. Those beans will be in straight lines by June and invoiced by July. You have earned every quiet morning of it.

On behalf of my dad, myself and everyone who has ever worked here: thank you.

Please raise whatever you have in your hand. To Maureen.