Staff Meeting, Rain, and the F to Bleeker,Transfer to the 6 uptown.

So I took the gig with Vivi. He and the other israeli guy who own the salon are actually really sweet and caring people. And, anyway, I can see that if I am to get along in Enyce, i am going to have to change my attitude where Israelis are concerned. Frankly, I dont know what all the fighting is about in Israel, there cant be that many Jews left there judging by how much of the NYC population is israeli. Everytime you see a stylish dashingly beautiful and dark european man or woman and your busily trying to fiure out if theyre Italian, Greek or maybe even Brasilian or Argentinian...DONT WASTE YOUR TIME. Theyre Israeli.
This morning was the stylist meeting at the salon. I got up at seven to get up to the UES by 930. THe meeting didnt start until after ten, everyone sat around in the posh but comfortable pink accented lounge area noshing on delivered muffins and bagels. The delivering here is ubiquitous. There are 8 stylists total and its a good gender mix. There are two italians, one italian american woman who is totally neurotic and obsessed with her "thinning" hair, a columbian guy, a cubana, an older short and chubby white lady, and a large and impossibly curvy white girl who describes herself as hopelessly american. No black stylists or assistants. They are a very loud group. Very loud. i was amazed. At one point the two owners, who are hardly shrinking violets, were just sitting there chins in hairy hands watching all 8 stylists (exept Giancarlo, Mahdis' stylist and the connection that got me the job, hes awesome and not a bickerer,) and two of the receptionists talk all at once. No one waited turns at all, no one took responsibilty for their part in any of the problems and even though everyone was QUITE brusque, no one seemed to get their feelings hurt. That was a plus. They seemed to have endless patience to describe the problems that seem to plague the salon, things like how they want to be informed that their next client has arrived and how the receptionists make personal calls at the desk and how their clients dont like the music. It was pretty intolerable. Those kind of things are difficult in every salon and really have no solution since each person has totally different preferences. The italians want you to just come up to them and tell them " Youre client is here, Her name is Jane Doefeldstein, shes getting a partial highlight and cut. " The italian american feels it makes her clients feel rushed and she wants a code word to let her know, she provided the example " I left the gum on the desk for Jane." The older white lady trouble shot that then the current client would want some gum too and what if you didnt really have any and so on and so forth. You can imagine. Nothing was accomplished or decided during the whole meeting. I think the owners should have cut them off at the pass, not let them turn it into a kvetch session and just presented how they want things done with no more rationale than that thats how they goddam want things done. They both have tons of experience and a good vision, they can see that nothing comes of these types of meetings. Oh well, who am I? It was a good way to see how everyone operates. I was quiet as a mouse. I start assisting on Sun. The stylists had a long list of complaints about the assistants, none of which will apply to me, so I think Ill get along just fine. I dont think they train people clearly enough so that they know what is expected of them, maybe Ill ask if we can develop a handbook and a standard new hire training... when the dust settles. Vivi (!) said that after Yom Kippur (!), onwhich day they will be closed (I love new york) they would be doing classes every two weeks after the salon closes.
Then, and by now its raining, I took the 6 back to bleeker and the f back to Bklyn to eat lunch and rest a minute before I go see Sarah, the third amigo from Mahdis and my college days who is now going to Columbia, and check out her new apartment in Harlem, excuse me Morningside Heights. Which sounds like a prison complex.
Ariel left yesterday and I miss her already, we went on an awesome walking tour of brooklyn. Carroll gardens, park slope, cobble hill etc. It established brooklyn firmly in both of our minds as the place to live in NY. Manhattan is loud, hectic, and overwhelming in its consumerism. Its fun and tremendously diverse, but at the end of the day you really want to go home and have home not feel like an annex of whatever coffee shop, boutique, bodega or fishmarket you happen to live above. Maybe the midwest will sink into the sea and NY and seattle can be just a couple hours away. More likely the east and west coast will both sink into the sea and well all end up living in Kansas. That seems to be the increasing trend. Our rain is being called rita's remnants, awesome. Hopefully thats as bad as it gets.
So, we were at home depot, which unlike costco, is exactly the same as it is in Seattle (maybe more because it sucks in seattle not cause its great in Bklyn.) Mahdis' apt deal is closing on friday so she was making arrangements to get her kitchen demolished and remodeled. Right when we came in we saw this very short brown man with complicated facial hair and a flawless fade (as ubiquitous as food delivery) wearing a BRIGHT yellow T shirt and more gold than a Pakistani bride. In fact we saw him several times in different sections, and dubbed him Mini Mr T. As we flitted from casheir to cashier and special service to information desk in search of the holy grail that is effective customer service (I just want to pay GodDAMN!) a female employee wearing a black tshirt that read "born in brooklyn" knealt in front of the park bench i had collapsed on, hoping help would come to us before closing time, and handed me a home depot sticker and said "Yous know dat guy in da yella shoyt? He wants you'dah call him sometimes." On the sticker was written his number, the name Ron, and call me. I really want to call and hang out with him sometime because I think it would be highly entertaining, but some inconviniently compassionate part of me wont let me purposely use other people for my own entertainment. Maybe that part of me will die off after I live here for a while. Ill keep the number. WHen we got back out to the car, New Yorks finest had taken the time to leave us a warning flyer about car prowling which provided Ariel Mahdis and I entertainment all the way to Coney Island by reading it in guido cop voice. It really was hilarious: " Why make it easier for someone to take your personal belongings and ruin your day?"
Im off to the train again to meet sarah. Come visit me soon!