I wrote 20 people volunteered. That was optimistic. Try fifteen
All first person accounts of that day should be treasured and coveted.
Personally I will never be ready for a 9/11 movie. I have written about the night war was declared.
By a horrible coincidence, Rafe and I went to a screening of The Guysin Times Square that night. Ever been to Times Square when it’s deserted? We were. It was creepy.
I wasn’t ready to see a 9/11 movie about fireman. I doubt that I will ever be able to see a 9/11 movie. Why relive a day I can play over and over again in my head?
I will read books with 9/11 themes. They’re different, less gruesome, more character driven. The Guys might have been, I just wasn’t ready.
We are all living testimonials to 9/11. Our stories should be told and heard.
Just don’t expect me to pay to see a movie about it. Don’t expect me to watch 9/11; the series or mini-series.
And don’t expect me to stay in an over priced city I fell out of love with sometime ago. I feel as if other people have expectations for me. I have an almost great apartment. I was in the lucky position to be able to pay cash; something inside me told me not to trust that 90’s stock market.
My maintenance was $535 eight years ago. Now it’s almost a thousand. Not including assessments. Yes I am on the doorman’s side, but that will cost me also.
As I have said too many times before, I pay for 9/11 every damn day. All my bills reflect the costs of 9/11 and an administration that couldn’t give a flying f–k about the people who live in New York. If it did, Karl Rove wouldn’t still be in the administration. If it did other people would be paying for 9/11 not just us. Yes, I know that his role was supposed to be diminshed, but he shouldn’t be there at all.
Why shouldn’t I sell my apartment? Why should I be any different from anybody else who has profited from the real estate boom? It’s so easy for people who live in Florida or Arizona or some other warm weather state where the living is easier and the costs somewhat cheaper to tell me to stay.
It’s so easy to complain about the government but not take any action. It’s so easy to look at New York and see a mirage. But the reality is so so different
I wanted to go away this weekend. Just a simple weekend get away. But only 20 people in my building out of nearly 200 adults volunteered to be the doormen, to take out the garbage. Guess where I will be?
20 out of 200. That’s beyond sad, that’s sickening. But the new people who paid millions don’t want to get their hands dirty, and half of them weren’t living in New York that day. They think it’s some kind of Disney/Rouse production, and one where they get everything.
They think that because they’re high earn wagers or have millions socked away they have paid their civic obligations by going to the Robin Hood Foundation dinner, or other things like that. No, living in a community requires some sacrifice. I think I have sacrificed enough.
I am sickened and disappointed by the people in my building. If they reflect New York, I want to live anywhere else
If this post depresses you, I’m not sorry. This is reality.
Explain to me because I really don’t understand why people won’t sign up for two hour shifts–6AM to Midnight–seven days a week. Remember, I’m not going away for the weekend so that I can work seven days a week if needed here. Needing a break doesn’t count.
Being too busy doesn’t count–two hours that’s all. If everybody signed up, maybe we could all just work one two hour shift, maybe two. And I don’t do windows, or gross garbage, or take in laundry. If they want they could give me a hundred bucks and I would think about it.
Would think about it because the richest people are usually the stingiest tippers. They treat the doormen like dirt, like something they own. They don’t know that Fernando has seven children, and that his wife is in school. They don’t know that Gus’s wife can’t work yet because her papers haven’t come through. They don’t that Ricky broke his back and really shouldn’t be working yet.
They don’t know these simple things because they don’t ask. Half don’t even know the doorman’s names. Call me crazy but I think it’s important to say hello and to treat the people who work for us with some respect.
Yeah I might joke about going to Starbucks so that the doormen think I have a life, but the reality is that I’m one of the people they like.
Because I give a damn. I tip more than I should to make up for the 20 bucks somebody who could afford much more than me gives at Christmas. I tip them because I know their kids, and remember their names–and Fernando does have seven, it’s really not easy.
I am respected because I give myself an extra ten minutes in the morning or whenever so I can see the latest pictures. I watch how the people who live in the largest apartments treat the doormen. I would die before I treated them as furniture.
That said I know very good rich people. Just not in this building.
Also I’m tired of going broke to make up for all the people who could afford to give more, but it’s so much more impressive to buy a table at a benefit.
The new film Friends with money hit home just a bit too much
I’m not an especially nice, kind or good person. I have a temper as many bloggers can attest to. I see the doorman’s strike as something more than just a strike.
I see it as a battle between the working class who make up a large part of New York and the rich. Only the really rich in New York couldn’t care less about anybody but themselves. Not true. Know many great very rich people. They’re old school rich–made their money in the 60’s to 80’s. Don’t personally know people who come from families with real old money. It’s the tacky woman with the over processed really poorly cut blond hair that looks like she threw a bottle of bleach on it, that grosses me out the most.
Yeah, Lucia you hate her also. Hate is too strong; she stared at us for minutes as we said hello to her, while trying to decide if we were important enough for her to say hello back to. Won’t say how much she paid for her apartment. Will make you sick.
Okay I don’t want to be crass but I’m in a weird mood. No I won’t be. It’s that air of “stand aside for me, my husband made a killing making sex toys.” Not that there’s anything wrong with them, Shayna–the sex toys–trying to ban them in Tennessee where Shayna lives. Oh she wouldn’t like the people either.
It’s the way they don’t let regular owners speak at board meetings, because we’re not mature enough to know what’s going on in our own building. But having ten mil in the bank automatically connotes maturity–or the ability to buy a board of directors–that’s ten mil in the bank and a lot more in investments
It’s the way they treat their dogs as if the dogs have more rights because they’re owned by them, then Fernando’s children.
At this point I want to give them and their dogs Manhattan. They’ll self destruct within a year since there won’t be any service people to do their biding. And yes, I’m a person who uses service people. But I know their names.
This began as a 9/11 post. It still is. The changes began years before 9/11, but something happened after 9/11, something that I’m too close to, to describe. Something horrible. Something that took the remaining magic out of this city.
Watch New York on Seinfeld watch it on Friends Visit New York; just never expect to be able to be afford to move here, and maybe you’re better off for that. You can live among real people. I’m real tired of living among people who will only consent to talk to you if you’re a board approved owner. Oh, I am. They talk to me. I don’t feel like talking back, because I might never shut my mouth again.
I am in one of the worst moods I can remember being in, in many years. I have much on my plate. Then there’s life. Tried charging something the other day, it didn’t go through. Called the credit card company. They said it was fine on their end. Have been in touch with the company three times–three times they said my bank card was declined and gave directions how to contact the bank. Three times I told them that it was Amex and had gone through. This was all by email. They have a phone number–if you’re willing to wait an hour. I’m not.
Have been deleting comments and spam like crazy. A word to the wise or unwise; I am the wrong person to pick on. I have been getting progressively nastier. I finally spoke to a friend on the phone. I was totally normal. I really thought I had lost all semblance of sanity. I will be cutting Courting to once or twice a week, after the strike, to preserve my sanity. I need to write, to socialize, to catch up on the things that make me, me, me, money because I have to pay my maintenance and other bills.
I will be doing two doorman shifts a day. Fortunately everybody has a cell, because company will have to call from the building entrance to be allowed in. Excuse me for complaining but in post 9/11 New York, “world class buildings,” my building has delusions of grandeur, extensive security is a must. To anymore trolls or other a–holes who think that I should get over it, when was the last time you weren’t allowed into your own home without ID–Cooper your dorm doesn’t count.
To my accountant–hey everybody I know reads this now–your check is in the mail. FLS I apologize, every day life in New York must always be viewed through a post 9/11 back drop.
I am sickened by the people in this building. Yes, I hate the board also, however….and I truly wonder how many board members will be doing volunteer work. Don’t think many. They will say that they do enough, and that it is our responsibility to keep the building running.
They can never tell us, all fifteen of us, that we’re too immature to know what’s happening in our building again.
I will be doing daily strike updates in my blog, for several reasons: it will act as my journal, it will keep people informed as to how people in New York really live–yes I know many people don’t have doormen, I often wish that I didn’t, and especially for the people who think New Yorkers are whiners. Understand that the costs of the strike will force my decision to leave New York sooner rather than later. We have had three special assessments this past year. Don’t know if people who don’t live in coops understand that means the board can charge us whatever they want. They have tried to be fair, but we do have a special fuel surcharge, we have to pay for major capital improvements, and minor ones.
Then we have to buy food, clothes, and other basic life necessities. What truly makes me sick is that people won’t volunteer. Guess the rent controlled and rent stabilized residents feel that they don’t have to because they don’t own and because there will be drastic reductions in service. Funny thing about that–their rent will be pro-rated to reflect the lack of services while my maintenance will probably go up. We have four classes of residents in this building; rent controlled or rent stablized tenants who lived here when the building went coop, non-board approved owners, and board approved owners. I will explain the differences and the sub-classes within each category tomorrow.
I will end with something that I already said. When Bush kept Rove he sent a very clear message to the people of this city. You are liberals. You think terrorists should be given therapy. How can anybody who lives in this city not want to see terrorists put away for life, no chance of parole, in a room without windows, toilets, and no exercise, library, television or any privileges?
When I was coming home from Puerto Rico I met Americans who had never seen a heightened security warning before. Shocked me, but I told them to ignore it. They listened to me because I’m a New Yorker. I hope, with all my heart, that I never say that again, because that time might be the one time it will be true.
Just heard some people in my wing, who didn’t live here then, laughing about how only dorky people volunteer during a strike. Call me a proud dork.
Don’t ever ask me to see a 9/11 movie; I’m still living one.