Unfortunately I Don’t Have a Doorman Right Now…
When returning to NYC after an extended period of time away, it’s amazing how things I rarely noticed before suddenly stuck out like a sore thumb. For instance, why don’t most women in my neighborhood take care of their own children? How come the older people I see walking down the street rarely smile? Why does everyone wear neon workout clothes to the gym? How do small children know they like sashimi enough to order it at a restaurant? Why are rich people driven around in Escalades? Where can I get a kale shake? Why does every young girl enrolled in prep school own a lacrosse stick?
It all seems a little ridiculous to me. Then again, I wasn’t raised in the uppermost upper echelon of society, so I wouldn’t really know. It’s probably hard to find the time to properly raise children between those nail appointments, luncheons with the girls, and museum galas. A nanny is necessary! I wish my school would’ve offered us lacrosse. Who knows, maybe I have an aptitude for the game. Now, I’ll never know.
But really, it makes me laugh how some people around these parts see money as a reason to be excused from having manners and doing simple everyday tasks like accepting packages. Just the other day at work, a customer complained she couldn’t accept a package because, “unfortunately, I don’t have a doorman right now.” What does that even mean? You can’t even buzz in a delivery guy yourself and direct him to the service elevator yourself?
I get it, carrying stuff up the stairs is hard. I came home from vacation with two large suitcases, totaling 90 pounds. Living in a fifth floor walkup sans doorman with a narrow staircase posed some challenges for my lugging abilities. I almost gave up mid-climb. Somewhere around the 3rd and 4th floors, I seriously considered just chucking a suitcase down the stairs and calling it a day. Did I really need to bring back that extra suitcase full of crap I’d found at my house? (Yes.) Eventually, I made it to my apartment and you know what? I’m a better person for having carried those bags myself.
Speaking of simple everyday tasks, last week, a friend and I overheard this ridiculous conversation at dinner in the West Village. The woman next to us was bragging to her friend about her fa-abulous lifestyle.
“I pay my maid 75 dollars a day. She does such a good job washing the dishes. I just couldn’t do it like that myself.”
I almost spit out my mojito onto my friend’s plate. $75 dollars a day to do the dishes? You can’t even wash dishes? I don’t like to wash dishes either, but at least I know how! I’m sure it gives her maid the thrill of her life to wash dishes in some beautiful home in the West Village for less than the minimum wage. This woman probably owns a castle in Europe, because apparently they’re cheaper than NYC apartments, and here she is paying her maid peanuts. Where do these people come from?
Like I mentioned before, I’m not from the uppermost upper echelon of society, so there are many things I don’t know in that realm. And quite frankly, I don’t care. I’d rather get raisin hands from washing my own dishes and sweat from carrying my own packages into my apartment than hire a maid and wait for a doorman because doing things for myself is where real life happens. And that’s where all the fun is.