Food Delivery

It’s either raining or snowing or icing or freezing rain. I looked out of the window from my Manhattan office and saw something falling from the sky. It was falling at a 45 degree angle designed for maximum annoyance and capable of winning any fight with an umbrella.

The weather is so bad that I decided someone else can bring me my lunch today. I reached this decision at 11.30 am. I was ravenous. I called up a local establishment that I normally walk to once a week to pick up my own lunch. I asked them how long it would take to deliver and they said 45 minutes maximum. It’s now 2pm. No sign of the food. The delivery guy must have gotten lost on his two and a half block walk over here, or is sitting down in a public space in midtown munching on my salad. I hope he enjoys it too. I have eaten so much nosh waiting for my food that I am no longer hungry.

New York City is the delivery capital of the world unless the weather is bad . When that happens, don’t order in food. You start off starving. You end up eating loads of snacks and get very aggravated trying to contact restaurants who don’t answer the phone the minute the first snow flake lands on its sidewalks.

Return of the Nodders

I found them. Well most of them. As if by magic we were all reunited at the express bus stop at 6.29am this morning. And yes, we nodded. They didn't seem to have missed me. I approached one of the women and asked her: "Where have you been?" I had a glint in my eye showing both relief and compassion. She quickly moved away from me and hid behind one of the larger gentlemen standing there.

So the nodders showed up on a day when there were no buses. We stood around for what seemed like an eternity with no sign of any public transportation. New York City slept and a large prehistoric being threw up slushy white stuff all over its streets and sidewalks. The city was paralyzed. I couldn't get to work via a vehicle faster than my own legs and all the nodders for whom I had toiled and fretted over ignored me as if I were a carrier of the bubonic plague. I protest. I will no longer nod back. I will never again initiate a nod. I am now an ex nodder.

And I walked to work disappearing on many occasions into two feet of snow that had formed at intersections. What a great start to the day. Destroyed illusions about nodders and sloshing shoes with wringing wet pant cuffs.

Snow

There are a few disadvantages (though not many) to living in New York City. One occurs during the imminent arrival of a snow storm. Certain things happen here that you can't really explain. Airports start shutting down hours, if not days, before the first snowflake has fallen. Workers in high rise offices start debating whether or not the forecasters are better or worse at predicting the weather than economists are in their field.

And most astonishingly, those who live in New Jersey already announce that they are not coming to work if the snow exceeds 3 inches. Even those who live just across the Hudson have developed: "I can’t possibly go to work if it snows” disease.

So as I am the lone Manhattan representative on my trading desk , my management immediately concludes that I will be the only person able to get to work in the aftermath of an accumulating snowstorm.

It needn't matter that snow could be piled up two feet in front of my apartment building's door. It is expected that I should at the very least be able to ski to work if the need arises; don't kid yourself -- I have seen that many a time before.

All those from the supposed hardest soon-to-be-hit suburbs compare how many inches they will see by the following morning.

My standing joke is to Mario who sits opposite me. He leaps out of his seat announcing that he has just spoken to his wife and she expects at least 6 inches this evening. My response is always: "Your wife always expects 6 inches Mario, but she only ever sees 3 or 4."

Oh you can have so much fun with Suburbanites!!!!