I’ve developed a “New York attitude” that makes appearances from time to time. Like when my friend told me his girlfriend cheated on him and without thinking, I replied, “Good, so you can cross that off your life’s to-do list and move onto the next thing.”
Or when I was sent to the fast care line in the emergency room and the receptionist there told me I had to go back to triage because the fast line was closing at 6. I said, “So you’re still open for a half hour then.”
For the record, the friend knew the girlfriend was bad news and said, “You picked up some attitude in New York, C.” A nice compliment indeed.
I still revert to my Minnesota Nice or Seattle passive aggressive from time to time, but you need a sharp edge to make it in NYC sometimes. I can’t let every hand-waving, shouting cab driver bother me. If I stopped for everyone in Times Square to take a picture, I’d still be trying to make it through. If I didn’t ignore sidewalk signature collectors, album pushers and yogurt vendors, I’d have a purse full of things to throw away when I got home.
Yes, a little attitude and a good pair of heels are necessary in the city.
I’m a journalist, content strategist, doting auntie, amateur bobsledder, fitness enthusiast, and wannabe health nut (who loves chocolate and pizza too much to fully commit). I don't want you to think my life is perfect. It's not.