Thursday, December 15, 2005

Prelude to Chaos -or- The Muffin's Revenge

OK, this is topical.

For those of you outside of the Big Apple, we are on the verge of a Transit Strike. For most anywhere else in the U.S., this wouldn't be catastrophic, but in New York City, with an estimated 7 million riders a day, our transit system is essential to our daily existence.

As an HR Director, you can imagine what kind of panic I am facing at work. We are trying to give people all the options, but many are not going to come in. The forecast for tomorrow morning is heavy rain, and it's a Friday, so the three-day weekend scenario is tempting. But we also are having our company holiday party tomorrow night at Planet Hollywood in Times Square. 170 employees are supposed to come. If people can't get in, but the party goes on, there will be general disgruntlement. And more food.

Anyway, the Union and the State and the City are throwing spitballs at one another. We are formulating plans to come to work. If rain wasn't in the forecast, I'd bike the 12 miles in, but riding in rain is unpleasant enough, moreso when the mercury dips below 40. So I am tentatively crashing at a friend's in lower Manhattan.

But the point of this post is to tell a story.

This morning, I took the kids in to their afterschool place, which also takes the kids in to school in the AM, for us working stiffs. Thursday is my day to drop them at Cool School, as the place is known.

I give my children a healthy Thursday breakfast, a bottle of apple juice and an individually-wrapped blueberry muffin. The breakfast of champions. I used to give them chocolate donuts and Red Bull, but the school complained. I'm still paying for those broken windows and the school mascot's veterinary bills.

So anyway, this morning, Jolee and I approach the counter and Jolee drops her muffin. Thankfully, it is wearing its plastic wrapper. It bounces and hits a gentleman in the foot. I say, "Jolee, don't throw your food at people." The guy says, "That's okay, everyone's mad at the transit workers."

He smiles, I laugh, and he goes outside and gets in his idling bus.

I guess it was funnier at the time, but I had to write about something.

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