Tag Archives: new york city

The NYC Effect, Part 3

(Part of the The NYC Effect series)

The gourmet deli next to me has delicious, freshly prepared foods, but it’s not exactly efficient. Every time I go in, the line isn’t that long, yet somehow I end up standing in it for at least 20 minutes, waiting to order.

Today I watched the man behind the counter take the order of a woman a few people ahead of me in line. She asked for half a pound of coleslaw. He took FOREVER to prepare it. And once he did, he gave her way too much. She pointed this out, and he shrugged and said, “Eh, no extra charge. We’re not here to make money or speed you through, we’re here to make friends!”

The old, Maryland me: “I love that! How refreshing! A place in NYC that actually values human interaction over robotic, impersonal efficiency! And he gave her free food! I’m coming here all the time!”

Me after a few years in NYC: “Aw, that’s cute! But still. I’m kind of in a rush here…”

Me today: <immediately walk out>

I don’t need friends.

I need some fucking egg salad.




The NYC Effect, Part 2

(Related to The NYC Effect)

Last night I had a dream that my whole apartment caught fire. I woke up this morning to my smoke detector beeping low battery.

The former, Maryland-born me: “Wow, I’m so lucky! That beeping went off during my sleep and caused a dream about fire as a warning that I could be in danger, so I should change the battery ASAP.  I’ll do that first thing today. Thanks for looking out for me, Universe!”

Me after 2 years in NYC: “Well that was annoying. Guess I should change the battery, though.”

Me after 5 years in NYC: “I am going to smash that thing in with a baseball bat so that it never fucks with my sleep again.”

Me this morning: <actual maniacal smashing of smoke detector, followed by spitting on it>