The husband and I have talked about the inevitability of moving out of Manhattan. Most likely our first stop will be Brooklyn. Call it a short-term goal. Truth is, we both feel the need for something new. So, you could say that what we really are talking about is moving out of New York City. Call it a long-term goal.

One of the biggest reasons I want to move out of New York City is because I never want to turn into one of those nasty, old, white women who seem to populate it. Ok, before anyone gets on my case. They aren't all white. They aren't all women. But the ones I tend to remember are those. I guess I am referring more to the attitude they bring but it seems to be predominantly old, white women. I like to call them something else but I'll try to keep this not-so-crass.

I wonder why anyone would think that being nasty to someone who works in customer service would get them better treatment? What I really wonder is why people think that talking down to someone would get them a more polite response. Case in point: if you yell or command me around, I don't care if you are buying something. I am going to acknowledge you, help you get what you need if possible, and get you the fuck out. I won't smile and be courteous. I don't feel I need to. I don't feel anyone needs to. You need something from me as much as I need something from you. Try being nice about it. I will if you will.

Which brings me back to why the husband and I are talking about moving. When we first broached the subject, he asked me what reason I had for wanting to go. I said, "I never want to become one of those old biddies who have lived in the City too long and complain about how everything thing is too expensive, and how people were nicer in the past, and how the City has become unlivable but yet, they stay in their rent-controlled apartment, collecting plastic bags, and free newspapers, while pushing their granny carts to the local bodega to buy a roll of toilet paper and an apple." Call it a never-ever goal. Later.  ¶ 11:37 PM