Big City Living, Miscellaneous

Holiday Tips… HELP!

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It’s the most wonderful timeeee of the yearrrr. FALSE. It’s the most STRESSFUL time. Every year, I agonize over holiday tips. Who needs one? Who doesn’t “need” one but deserves one? How much? Do I pool the money? Or do individual gifts? How much did I give last year?

This year is even worse! Everyone is struggling and I am lucky enough to still have a job, all of my family members are healthy, and I even got promoted this year (humble brag). So I’m feeling pretty fortunate. But how does that translate into tips? This is, in my opinion, one of the worst parts of being an adult, right after laundry and understanding the difference between a W2 and a W9.

For tips, first, I need to decide who gets them. You’d think this would be a simple process, but it’s not. Growing up, I remember my mom always left tips for the postman. He even would leave an envelope for us so we didn’t forget. But now, I work a full-time job and if I ever see the mailman/mailwoman, it’s in passing, and they don’t even know which apartment I belong to. I’m one of many little boxes on a wall. Also, they usually have airpods in, and I’ve never had a conversation with them. It’s not like the friendly neighborhood suburban mailmen who actually walk up to your physical front door. But… they’re working so hard this year. And the absentee ballots!! I’m so thankful to USPS!

The guy who REALLY deserves the cold hard cash is the Amazon delivery guy. We get approximately 7 packages a week. Yes, you read that right, at least one per day. But it’s not like we have a relationship with the UPS guy. This is NYC. Again, the packages just sort of magically show up here while I’m working.

Now let’s talk about the people who I actually come face to face with. During Covid, there are VERY few of these people, and even so it’s mask to mask, but let’s say pandemic aside, who else provides services for me that I should tip.

Our cleaning person. This is a no-brainer. She definitely gets a holiday tip. But how much? She didn’t clean for us for 8 months this year. I sent her money periodically while we were out of state, but I know she’s hurting and I’m sure a lot of her clients have discontinued her service. We have her back now (our chore chart didn’t work, more on that another time), but she’s only been back for 2 weeks. And then the even harder question: how much do we give? The amount we pay for one cleaning? Like a bonus? Or a lump sum $100. Or more? This is a more difficult tip to give because it’s usually in person. Or should I do it by Venmo so I don’t need to see her face? Is that cowardly? I have tried googling these answers, by the way, but there does not seem to be a consensus.

There are other people I may tip on a normal year, a hairstylist, manicurist (before I did my own!), even a dry cleaner, but this year, I haven’t really seen any of those people.

In NYC, there is only one group of people who ALWAYS gets tips: building staff. Doormen, concierges, porters, superintendents. They always send around a happy holiday card to remind us of their names so we don’t forget them. Also, they’re the ones dealing with our Amazon dependency. And this year, they are putting their health and safety in jeopardy every day commuting to our building, interacting with 3,000 Doordash delivery men, and with idiots who take their masks down in the lobby.

BUT HOW MUCH?? When we lived on 96th Street, we had a building staff of 8. We gave $50/person. That’s $400. Split between two people, it was reasonable. But would we have given the same amount if we lived alone? When I lived in that same building as a poor law student with 3 roommates, I think we each gave $50 (total of $200 for the apartment). Whether I gave $400 or $200, we were barely acknowledged for our card.

But in our building now? We have 6 people, and again the past two years we have given $50/person and we have been treated like KINGS. A majority of our building now is rent controlled, so I think it’s abnormal for people to give that much. It was SO appreciated. I almost felt bad. If we could afford $400 in the other building, should we have given the same here? How do you split that by 6 evenly? Should it be an amount by person?

And more importantly, do you give the same amount each year? There is a such thing as inflation. And this year, as I said, we are more fortunate than many others. Do we adjust for that? Our expenses have decreased. Well, Chris got me a ring so I should say my expenses have decreased. And the final question, do we put cash in an envelope for everyone? Or do we split it up into individual envelopes? It probably appears nicer together because the amount it higher, but is that the point? Shouldn’t it be personalized?

You can probably tell by the amount of question marks in this blog post (28) that I do NOT have any of the answers. How do you guys dole out holiday tips? Any tips, pun intended, are appreciated.

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Big City Living

Crying In NYC

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It’s beginning to look a lot like… we’ll be staying in the house for Christmas. That’s not exactly how the song goes, but we are still deep into this global pandemic and it’s not looking like it will clear up by Christmas, or New Years (or Easter 2020, as some people may have thought).

It sure has been a depressing year. Trips canceled. Lonely in-apartment nights. Enough DoorDash delivery to keep the restaurant business afloat (almost). And I don’t need to remind you of my own personal tragedy, being canceled last minute from the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

If you’re feeling like you need a good cry, and these constantly streaming Hallmark movies aren’t doing it for ya crying in the house, then this blog is for you. I compiled a list of great places to cry in NYC. I started brainstorming this list 7 long years ago, before I quit my job as an attorney. Back when I was practicing law, I cried in public at least 5 times a week. I don’t know if I’d say I’m proud of this fact, but I do think it qualifies me as a bit of an expert.

Recently, even Meghan Markle commented on this phenomenon in the New York Times. She said,

[My cab driver] explained that New Yorkers live out their personal lives in public spaces. “We love in the city, we cry in the street, our emotions and stories there for anybody to see,” I remember him telling me. “Don’t worry, somebody on that corner will ask her if she’s OK.”

Sometimes that’s true. People ask if you’re ok. But most times? They’re too busy to notice. Which is great for me, because I usually don’t want anyone asking me about why I’m crying. I just need a good cry, ya know? Let’s start with the one the Duchess of Sussex witnessed.

The Sidewalk

New Yorkers walk everywhere. So it only makes sense that our cry-fest begins here. We are on our way somewhere. Deep in thought, deep in podcast or playlist, and all of a sudden, a deep depression hits. Do we wait to get somewhere enclosed? Hell no. We let it out on the street corner. Most of the time, we’re walking too quickly for anyone to see our tears. Or it’s winter and they’re frozen to our cheeks anyway. If, god forbid, we are stopped at a traffic light (and there’s actual traffic… because if there isn’t we’re jaywalking), then someone may see our tears. Not to fear, there is likely someone much more interesting on that corner asking for weed money on singing very loudly for all to hear. What if we don’t make it to the sidewalk in time??

The Elevator

This is a classic. Perfect for a quick cry. It’s isolated, enclosed, and feels like a womb. It often smells like urine or some residual curry, but not to worry, once the tears are flowing, your nose will clog up anyway. Main issue with the elevator cry is when you think you’re home free on a solo trip and then it stops and a random person gets in. Thankfully, normal human elevator etiquette is to stare at the wall and make zero eye contact until getting off to say, “have a good day.” Tears do not usually derail this social contract.

In the Lobby to Your Doorman

This is usually reserved for drunken tears. This should be our LAST RESORT. Let me repeat, do not do this regularly. You need to face this human the next day. And the next. You need to pretend you are just a normal happy person who orders from the same Chinese delivery place 3 times per week. Better to not cry in front of your doorman. However, if you MUST speak to someone about your tears and drunk dialing your parents is not an option, it’s best to cry to your doorman after 2 am. Then the doorman knows you’re just drunk and gives you a free pass (even if you’re not, I suggest pretending). ONE FREE PASS, GUYS, use it wisely.

In a Crowd

This is hit or miss. If it’s a crowd of New Yorkers, they will likely not bat an eye. New Yorkers DGAF about you, and even if they did, they probably don’t at the moment because they are too focused on why there is a crowd, and annoyed at how big it is, because they have places to be. If it’s a crowd of tourists, you are in for a bumpy and intrusive ride. Tourists always ask too many questions. During Covid, I do not recommend even being near a crowd, so let’s take a rain check on this one for now.

On the Subway

HIGHLY recommend this. First of all, pre-pandemic, subways were crowded and nobody looked at anybody. Even in the pandemic, people are reading Kindles, listening to music, trying to breathe as little as possible and not touch anything. A lot of concentration is involved. Nobody bothers you on the subway. On the off chance that a homeless man tries to comfort you (this happened to me in 2014), it will at least make for a fabulous Facebook status.

At a Bakery

Guys, this is fool-proof. You’re already there buying sweets for yourself so the assumption is that you’re depressed or PMS-ing. Why not add some tears for good measure? It almost makes more sense to be crying in a bakery than to have dry eyes. Plus, that banana pudding is just SO DELICIOUS, they may be tears of joy.

At Home

Pre-pandemic, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this. Your roommates or significant other will ask questions. It’s too intimate. You’ll need to pretend you were watching an episode of This Is Us, even if you’re clearly watching Great British Bakeoff. But during Covid times?? We need to normalize crying at home. First and foremost, crying with a mask on is not fun. It’s messy. It’s runny. The snot combines with the saliva and then you wipe it with your mask which gets wet, and then gets cold and freezes, it’s just not a good idea. So if you don’t want to cry with a mask, that leaves one option.

Perhaps just this year, let’s cry at home. But once these vaccines start rolling out, we will be crying and mourning this lost year for many months to come. Bookmark this page and be ready to let the tears go.

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