give this guy a raise!

the city has been especially unnerving this week.

i work close to two main thoroughfares that lead to the United Nations and all day, every day there have been traffic cones set up along the middle of both streets—easy access for the array of dignitaries and nutjobs in town for the U.N. general assembly—and barricades set up to block sidewalks and cops directing cars and pedestrians, and helicopters periodically hovering above midtown. considering it was just earlier this that week news broke about some dudes who were contemplating an attack on the subway system, the flurry of activity makes one's stomach churn a little.

plus, i'm sorry—it's hard to feel at ease when both Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Muammar Qaddafi are a few blocks away, let alone on the same planet.

but just at lunch today i had one of those encounters that make me happy i live in the city. it's probably too silly and self-serving to write about, but i guess that's never stopped me before. anyway, i tend to go to Pret a Manger very frequently during the work week. i rarely mix it up when it comes to lunch (i'm an odd creature of habit when it comes to food in general, actually) so i guess i got to be a bit of a regular there for a while. the last two weeks, however, i started bringing my lunch. it was my attempt to be healthier and more frugal.

but this morning, after having struggled to pack all of the elements of my wedding invitations in a somewhat manageable way (heading to Pennsylvania tonight for a weekend of assembling-and-envelope-stuffing), i didn't have the time or patience to pack a lunch. which is why i wound up back at Pret. with my usual 'Red, White and Greens' salad in hand, i made my way to the registers.

it's safe to say i recognize all of the Pret workers by now, especially the ones who regularly ring me up. but i was taken aback when the young fella who rang me up today—one of my regular cashiers—asked me if i'd been on vacation.

"me? vacation?" i asked, thinking perhaps i'd put on too much bronzer this morning. "nope. why?"

"you haven't been here," he said.

i laughed. "i've been packing my lunch, i'm trying to be good."

"it's the recession, right?" he asked.

i said, "yeah, that and the wedding i'm planning. trying to save money. i'm getting married soon."

this seemed to truly surprise him. "wedding? really? wow." he put my salad (and, ok, mini brownie) in a bag and then squinted at me. "how old are you?"

he said it in a tone that suggested he thought i was too young to be a bride. i used my standard response—the only response, in my opinion, that a woman over 30 should use: "how old do you think i am?"

he studied me for a few moments and then said, "twenty—" (and right here a wide smile broke across my face, i didn't even care what the second part of his answer was) "—five?"

i'm only a little ashamed to admit that my cheeks were burning and i felt downright giddy as i said, "i'm thirty-two" and watched his face contort.

"what? no way!"

[this never gets old. why does this never get old?]

"nope, i'm really thirty-two. definitely old enough to get married."

"well," he said, handing me my change, "someone got really lucky."

i literally was smiling the four-short-blocks-and-one-long-block walk back to my office. sadly, i'm that easy. i couldn't decide if i was more flattered that he thought i was twenty-five or that he had noticed my lack of Pret visits lately. am i so pathetic for being touched by that?

so i don't know. it's true that this city evokes evil plots in the hearts of truly depraved people and rolls out the red carpet for deranged dictators (and has a governor the president wants to get rid of) but it's the little moments like the one i had today that keep folks coming back, i think. this place never ceases to surprise, mostly when you least expect it and often when you most need it.

mb