Good Deeds

Keith Ferrazzi (nevereatalone.com) once spoke about the use of "currencies" in relationships. In a manner of speaking, relationships contain a dynamic trade of currencies that help get the ball rolling when it comes to making true genuine connections with others - favors, actions, help, and even simple compliments. This is not to be confused with the concept of favor equity - counting how many times you've helped someone only to expect them to pay you back in a commensurate way.

I remember talking to Keith once about these currencies, and when I gave him a sincere compliment about how his book had changed my life, he told me that that was a great example of setting out these currencies in building meaningful relationships.

Relationships however, vary in degree depending on who you are experiencing or encountering. The relationship you have with your mother reflects years of more than just mere currency exchange; it reflects the long-term development of a presumably strong foundation. It reflects family. On the other hand, the stranger on the street reflects just another passer-by...that is, until you decide to smile at him or her. Even in that scenario, you have given a simple effortless currency in furtherance of relationship building, albeit, a short-lived, casual, yet rich and meaningful one.

This is why I like good deeds. It is the manifest and illustrative currency used for building these mini-relationships with the absolute stranger.

In one minor example, I helped a woman carry her baby stroller down a steep stairway at the train station...and boy, it felt good. I know, tons of people do it in NY (yes, I've seen many people do it), and I don't claim to be the most generous person in the world, but boy...it felt good. These mini-relationships always get me going.

This is a disposition and attitude that I would like to have for the rest of my life. It's a far cry from the jackass new yorker attitude I wore a few weeks back. It's also something I wouldn't want to lose after getting into the groove of litigation.

Speaking of which, I'm at work and it's 9:30 pm. If you read this, take time out to help someone you see on the street, on your way to work...whatever. If you allow it to be spiritually refreshing, then it will be. Plus you get to make someone else's day better than it already is.

Apple Store Part III

Guess who's in the Apple Store again at 5 in the morning.

Now that I live outside of Manhattan, I have 2 choices to make when it comes to going out at night:

1. I make the ridiculously long commute and cut my night short by taking the last train out north which is at 1 in the morning from Grand Central.

2. I make the ridiculously long commute and make my night extremely long by waiting for the first train Sunday morning which is at 5:35 am.

*note how I don't make going out in Westchester an option.

Number 2 is tolerable so as long as I have friends to hang out with or a place to stay before my train leaves and I can save money. Unfortunately, number 2 was a failed experiment tonight. My friends who wanted to do karaoke all night ended up going home at 1:30, conveniently after the last train had left. Furthermore, they went home with their significant others, so hanging out in the living room while they were getting their freak on might not have been the best of ideas for any of us. So now I'm here again. The Apple Store. Moreover, instead of saving money, I had since bought a slice of pizza, a gray's papaya hotdog, and now will spend a few more bucks to get to Grand Central after finishing this post. Even more annoying is the fact that my car is parked in a train station garage in Westchester and I had only paid for parking up until 3 am. I expect to get a ticket for $15 when i get back.

Lonely, expensive and dietarily unhealthy.

Oh, and some random police officer waiting in his car had nothing better to do during his shift, so he decided to point his dumb laser light (presumably one he had just bought from duane reade or something) on my chest as I had walked across 2 streets.

I am a Jackass New Yorker

Last night, I was in a hurry to meet up with some friends in Manhattan. I had made the long commute from Westchester on a train and was late for my little alcohol rendezvous. I decided to flag down a cab along Lexington Avenue. To my dismay, all of the cabs were occupied and I was getting frustrated. 15 minutes later, I saw an available cab half a block up, and I raised my hand as if summoning a servant to hurry up and get me some water. I then started running toward the cab and finally made it to the passenger door with my hand on the handle. At that very moment, a young man and his girlfriend - all dressed up in their new designer clothes - start to enter the cab on the other side.

I never thought it was in me, but I gave him a mean stare. . . the type country fathers give to the farmboys found with their daughter in her bedroom and right before raising and aiming a 2-barrel shotgun to the boy's face (and ass as he jumps out the window). Then, I raised both hands and said "for God's sake man," and then I started running toward a cab a few feet away that had just become available. A split second after I turned away, I heard the guy say, "Hey buddy, it's no problem, we'll just get another cab."

At the time of his statement, I hadn't realized what he had said. When I got into the new cab, I noticed that even after I had chosen the new cab, the couple decided to let the disputed cab go, and then they stood on the sidewalk waiting for another cab, presumably for the next few minutes.

Lesson learned. Not everyone in New York is a jackass. The second you make that presumption, you become susceptible to being one yourself.

Welcome to New York AcidJazzBoy. You really are a bitchass bastard.