That’s the Ticket

According to the New York Post, political blogger Andy Ostroy predicts that Barack Obama will ”fizzle by September,” and Al Gore will then ”toss his hat into the ring and enlist the junior senator from Illinois as his running mate. An unbeatable ticket.”

Gore/Clinton ’08–a surefire winner, or a tired reshuffling destined to be overshadowed by the popular guy who once connected them?  (Besides, don’t they hate each other?)

It’s That Time of Year…

When you see people crossing the street with the BAR/BRI books under their arm, or overhear them in coffee shops comparing notes about the MBE practice test.

I hope each of you out there remembers why you went to law school, and that you do interesting things with your law degrees to make all that studying and loan-taking really pay off. Oh, and no, you really don’t need to worry ’til after July 4th!

Anger Management

Nothing makes me more frustrated than waiting for the subway, not knowing how many more minutes will go by before the light appears at the end of the tunnel. (Which reminds me of that clever and provocative quote:  The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train.)

My question is:  Why are announcements made as to the next arriving train in some stations but not others?  Eventually the MTA may catch up to its peer agencies around the world and finally introduce electronic notification systems. (Have you ever noticed that subway systems in “Old Europe” are so much more advanced than here in the New World?  Thanks must go to our federal system and our state government for diverting resources from mass transit.)  In the meantime, MTA bureaucrats, can you please simply make these timetable announcements a regular feature, systemwide?

An Unlikely Source of Inspiration

I called Babbo last night to make a reservation for dinner in July (you have to book a month ahead).  As I was waiting to be connected to the “reservationist” (is that a word?  Perhaps a newfangled contraction of “reservations specialist”?) I started thinking about what a lousy job that must be–spending hours every day going from one call to the next taking down names and numbers, giving out confirmation numbers, dealing with pissed-off New Yorkers (or their secretaries).But then the reservationist picked up, interrupting my speculation.  She had the nicest voice and sounded like the most content, positive person in this city.   Talking to her for less than five minutes put me in the best mood I’d been in all day.

Which made me wonder:  Does she actually like her job that much?  Is she just an inherently happy person?  Or is she just being a real professional and doing her customer service job in a way so very few operators and “reservationists” seem to these days?

Upon hanging up, I vowed to try to work a little of her attitude into my own daily routine, whether dealing with clients, partners or just the average person on the street.  It would be nice to make someone’s day, for a change!

Someone Needs to

Overheard at the 155 St. subway station last weekend–

Two kids agitate as their young mother fumbles for her Metrocard.  Suddenly, she turns to the younger one (who must have been about three) and screams at the top of her lungs:  “RELAX!!!!!!!!!!!!”

That’s a First

The guy behind me online at Starbucks today ordered a latte in a British accent. 

“What size?” asked the harried barista.

“What sizes do you have?” replied the polite Brit, whereupon the barista did a show-and-tell of tall/grande/venti. 

“Excuse me?” the Brit asked, apparently confused by his first exposure to the wacky lingo.

Who knew?  Even today there are people on this planet who are making their first trips to Starbucks.  And for the record, as of January there were 256 Starbucks branches located within the M25 (London’s ring road) out of a UK total of 530 (and a worldwide total of 13,000 shops in 39 countries).  The company plans to open a branch every two weeks in London for the next decade. 

All I can say is at least this guy was behind me on line or I would have been more annoyed than amused.

I Sorry

After criticizing IHOP and its devotees in a prior post, I had lunch at the Hicksville, N.Y., location last weekend and have to concede that the experience was not bad at all.  The menu is written by people with an appreciation for the insane American appetite, which makes it something to behold.  The food was quite tasty (although the coffee was weak), the value was excellent and the service was friendly.  I sorry!

Everyone’s a Critic

Guy to a male friend, overheard at 50th and Broadway, Friday, 8:55 pm.: ”She’s got a fun personality, but she’s a little fat.”

Woman to female friend, overheard at 50th and 8th Avenue, Friday, 9 pm: “I usually like them meatier, but I like his face.”

You can’t make this stuff up.

IHOP Not

What’s with the cult of IHOP among twenty- and thirty-somethings?  I suppose it has something to do with idolization of the suburban kitsch experience.  And maybe it’s viral marketing.  But every time I go, the service is terrible, the tables are sticky, the pancakes are nothing special and the rest of the menu is repulsive.  Let’s not even talk about the clientele.  And then there’s usually a wait, too!

Sure, there are lots of different _____berry syrups, but let’s face it — the place is gross.

Subway Stories, Vol. I

I got on the uptown W train last night at Union Square.  At the same time a young guy boarded my car with a medium-sized brown dog.   The dog was on a leash but was hyperactive, jumping all over the place, sitting on its hind legs, darting in and out of its owner’s legs.  This was annoying.  Dogs are not allowed on the subway, except for seeing-eye dogs and except for those in carriers. 

Did the guy just not know, or not care?  If he could break the rule, why shouldn’t others break the rules too?

I thought about saying something to him.  A few weeks ago I was on an uptown N train and a young Latino guy was playing a boombox fairly loudly.  Also against the rules.  To my surprise, an older white man came back from where he was sitting farther up in the car with his wife or companion and said simply to the man, shaking his head, “This really isn’t okay.”  The young man didn’t say anything but half-rolled his eyes and lowered the volume substantially.  In the few seconds before he exited the train at Times Square, he cranked up the volume again, a little jab at the old man I suppose — a bid to restore his coolness.  But hey, saying something worked.  For a few minutes we all had a quieter ride, the rules were enforced, the young and rebellious were kept in check by authority.

Someone I met recently told me that he had been riding on a D train uptown late at night when a cop came through the car and asked him and a few other guys to get off the train because they had violated the rules.  My friend had his legs up on a seat.  The cop told him he would be issued a citation and it would be effectively erased from his record, and he wouldn’t have to go to court.  But it was a hassle and a humiliation.  Sounds like the NYPD is finally enforcing the new subway rules that were intended to create more civility on the subways.  But wouldn’t it make more sense to enforce the “no feet on the seats” rule during rush hour, when people actually need the seats, than in the middle of the night?

And more to the point, might it not be better if more people said something to civic offenders, rather than relying on the police to write tickets for such minor infractions?  That takes a little guts — you never know how the other person is going to react.  But that’s how change happens.