10?

15 to 20?

They add up pretty quickly: what time to set your alarm, whether to go to the gym before work or after, what to wear, what to eat for breakfast . . . And that’s before you’ve even arrived at work to tackle any higher order decisions for the day.

Research has shown that the simple act of making a decision impairs your ability to make further decisions. Like our reserve of willpower, our capacity to make crisp judgments is a finite resource that depletes throughout the day. It’s harder to pass on that afternoon cookie if you’ve already denied yourself a doughnut for breakfast. Similarly, if you spent 15 minutes debating what you were going to wear this morning, that’s already taken a small tax on your brain when you sit down later to figure out the research budget. It makes sense why people like Steve Jobs and Barack Obama keep a fairly homogeneous closet.

By eliminating (or at least reducing) choice for many daily tasks, you free up brainpower to tackle more impactful decisions. The key is to instill the right routines, of course—keeping the fridge stocked with fruits and vegetables, taking the stairs when it’s less than five floors, not bringing your laptop to bed 30 minutes before going to sleep, etc. The Power of Habit describes how you can introduce good impulses and alter bad ones by paying attention to the habit loop of cue, routine, and reward.

A second benefit of routine is its ability to nurture creativity. It’s a bit counter-intuitive at first, as we often associate the latter with spontaneity and trips to far-off places. But sustainable inspiration usually comes from an environment where the mind feels at ease, safe from external distractions and free to focus inward. That’s why writers and other artists typically have all sorts of idiosyncratic routines that help them get in the right mindset. Joan Didion, for instance, has to sleep in the same room as her book when she’s nearing the end of her writing process. And it’s why people are often struck by epiphanies during routine breaks like taking a shower or going for a run. Train your brain to expect periods in the day when it can put the rest of your body on autopilot and wander off on its own tangents. You’ll be surprised at how creatively productive that time can be.

A. “You’re such a natural public speaker. I wish I could present as well as you.”

B. “I really liked the way you structured that presentation. What was your thought process?”

Now, which would you rather receive?

At first blush this might seem like a silly question (a compliment’s a compliment, after all, just take it and be happy, Lulu) but my guess is that B sits better with most.

Why?

Statement A praises an innate ability, attributing success to an enviable predisposition. Statement B, on the other hand, commends someone’s process and approach, focusing on things that are fully under a person’s control.

More generally, you could say that the first encourages a “fixed mindset” while the latter favors a “growth mindset.” For a full explanation of the difference between the two mentalities, I recommend reading Sandra’s answer to the question “Why are some people more resilient than others?”

Turns out this distinction isn’t just something parents should keep in mind—it’s also a good rule of thumb for gauging the health of our relationships. In thinking about why I tend to feel more energized and optimistic after hanging out with certain people, I’ve realized that a commonality they share is a relish for seeking out learning opportunities and a belief that a successful outcome is always within reach.

“You are the average of the 5 people you spend the most time with,” as the saying goes. With that in mind, one of my longer-term resolutions for the new year is to spend more time with people who exhibit a growth mindset.

In the summer of 1855, disappointment piled upon disappointment. Six months after his loss to Trumbull, Lincoln’s involvement in a celebrated law case forced him to recognize that his legal reputation, secure as it might have been in frontier Illinois, carried little weight among the preeminent lawyers in the country.

The story began that June with the arrival in Springfield of Peter Watson, a young associate in the distinguished Philadelphia firm headed by George Harding, a nationally renowned patent specialist. Harding had been hired by the John Manny Company of Rockford, Illinois, to defend its mechanical reaping machine against a patent infringement charge brought by Cyrus McCormick, the original inventor of the reaper. McCormick v. Manny, better known as the “Reaper” suit, was considered an important test case, pitting two outstanding patent lawyers, Edward Dickerson of New York and former Attorney General Reverdy Johnson for McCormick, against Harding for Manny. Since the case was to be tried before a judge in Chicago, Harding decided to engage a local lawyer who “understood the judge and had his confidence,” though, from his Eastern perspective, he condescendingly expressed doubt he could find a lawyer in Illinois “who would be of real assistance” in arguing the case.

Watson was sent to Springfield to see if Abraham Lincoln, whose name had been recommended, was the right man for the position. His initial impression was not positive. Neither the small frame house on Eighth Street nor Lincoln’s appearance at the door with “neither coat nor vest” indicated a lawyer of sufficient standing for a case of this magnitude. After talking with Lincoln, however, Watson decided he might be “rather effective” after all. He paid Lincoln a retainer and arranged a substantial fee when the work was completed. Lincoln was thrilled with both the fee and the opportunity to test himself with the renowned Reverdy Johnson. He began working on the legal arguments for the case, understanding that Harding would present the scientific arguments.

Not long after Watson’s Springfield visit, Harding received word that the case had been transferred from Chicago to Cincinnati. The change of venue to Ohio “removed the one object” for employing Lincoln, allowing Harding to team up with the man he had wanted in the first place–the brilliant Edwin Stanton. Unaware of the changed situation, Lincoln continued to develop his case. “At our interview here in June,” he wrote Watson in late July, “I understood you to say you would send me copies of the Bill and Answer . . . and also of depositions . . . I have had nothing from you since. However, I attended the U.S. Court at Chicago, and while there, got copies . . . I write this particularly to urge you to forward on to me the additional evidence as fast as you can. During August, and the remainder of this month, I can devote some time to the case, and, of course, I want all the material that can be had. During my day at Chicago, I went out to Rockford, and spent half a day, examining and studying Manny’s machine.”

Though Lincoln never heard from Watson, he pieced together what he needed and in late September set out for Cincinnati with a lengthy brief in his hands. Arriving at the Burnet House where all the lawyers were lodged, he encountered Harding and Stanton as they left for the court. Years later, Harding could still recall the shock of his sight of the “tall, rawly boned, ungainly back woodsman, with coarse, ill-fitting clothing, his trousers hardly reaching his ankles, holding in his hands a blue button umbrella with a ball on the end of the handle.” Lincoln introduced himself and proposed, “Let’s go up in a gang.” At this point, Stanton drew Harding aside and whispered, “Why did you bring that d—-d long armed Ape here . . . he does not know any thing and can do you no good.” With that, Stanton and Harding turned from Lincoln and continued to court on their own.

In the days that followed, Stanton “managed to make it plain to Lincoln” that he was expected to remove himself from the case. Lincoln did withdraw, though he remained in Cincinnati to hear the arguments. Harding never opened Lincoln’s manuscript, “so sure that it would be only trash.” Throughout that week, though Lincoln ate at the same hotel, Harding and Stanton never asked him to join them for a meal, or accompany them to or from court. When Judge John McLean hosted a dinner for the lawyers on both sides, Lincoln was not invited.

The hearing continued for a week. The sophisticated arguments were “a revelation” to Lincoln, recalled Ralph Emerson, one of Manny’s partners. So intrigued was he by Stanton’s speech, in particular, that he stood in “rapt attention . . . drinking in his words.” Never before, Emerson realized, had Lincoln seen anything so finished and elaborated, and so thoroughly prepared.” When the hearing was over, Lincoln told Emerson that he was going home “to study law.” Emerson did not understand at first what Lincoln meant by this, but Lincoln explained. “For any rough-and-tumble case (and a pretty good one, too), I am enough for any man we have out in that country; but these college-trained men are coming West. They have had all the advantages of a life-long training in the law, plenty of time to study and everything, perhaps, to fit them. Soon they will be in Illinois . . . and when they appear I will be ready.”

As Lincoln prepared to leave Cincinnati, he went to say goodbye to William Dickson, one of the few people who had shown him kindness that week. “You have made my stay here most agreeable, and I am a thousand times obliged to you,” Lincoln told Dickson’s wife, “but in reply to your request for me to come again I must say to you I never expect to be in Cincinnati again. I have nothing against the city, but things have so happened here as to make it undesirable for me ever to return here.”

After returning to Springfield, Lincoln received a check in the mail for the balance of his fee. He returned it, saying he had not earned it, never having made any argument. When Watson sent the check a second time, Lincoln cashed it.

Unimaginable as it might seem, after Stanton’s bearish behavior, at their next encounter six years later, Lincoln would offer Stanton “the most powerful civilian post within his gift”—the post of secretary of war. Lincoln’s choice of Stanton would reveal, as would his subsequent dealings with Trumbull and Judd, a singular ability to transcend personal vendetta, humiliation, or bitterness. As for Stanton, despite his initial contempt for the “long armed Ape,” he would not only accept the offer but come to respect and love Lincoln more than any person outside of his immediate family.

I can’t end this post without a tribute to Lincoln’s incredible literary skills. His Gettysburg Address is profound lyrical magic fashioned out of just over 260 words. You can’t do it justice without reading it aloud. If you’re a real nerd and have a bit of time to kill, try committing it to memory (who does that anymore??):

Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives, that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here, have, thus far, so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause which they here gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

• Search engines can approximate the proximity of social relationships just as well as people can.
• People don’t know who the relevant experts are in their network and lack efficient means of getting this information.
• More signal and more choice is better.
• Feedback from friends is more valuable than the wisdom of crowds.
• Users come to search engines in browse mode.
• People think their current search experience is broken and dissatisfying.

Going forward, in evaluating any type of social integration with search, we should apply the criteria people use to judge the success of their search engine experience:

• Maximize relevance
• Minimize effort
• Reduce overload

Doctor: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I guess I’m wondering what the most breathable dailies are for the other brands?”

Doctor: “Oh, you can’t compare the lenses like that. [Insert a bunch of technical optometrist speak about the chemical makeup of different contact lenses]”

Me: “?”

I’m in no position to argue with years of medical training; asking for the “most breathable” lenses was a major oversimplification, sure. But my doctor didn’t have much success getting buy-in for the lenses he recommended by speaking jargon. As a patient, I’m expecting him to recognize the spirit of my question and the underlying concerns motivating it, and respond in kind. I’m expecting, in essence, for him to tell me a story.

Storytelling is traditionally viewed as the domain of marketing departments, journalists, and recluse novelists holed up in cabins. The truth is that it touches every aspect of our personal and professional lives. You tell a story about yourself every day through the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the entertainment you consume, and the people with whom you choose to spend your free time.

On the job, storytelling is the skill of pulling back from the details of your day-to-day activities to help people understand why any of it matters.

Designers translate pixels and typefaces (among other things) into a visual identity.

Marketers translate specs and features into a product’s value prop and associated emotional benefits.

Doctors translate symptoms and medical histories into a diagnosis and treatment plan.

Lawyers translate precedents and statutes into a compelling case.

Bankers translate interest rate movements and investor sentiment into a capital raising strategy.

Whether it’s stated in your job description or not, storytelling is one of those intangibles that distinguishes out-performers across the board. Everyone can benefit from becoming a better storyteller and there are an endless number of mediums through which to develop the skills – writing, speaking, visual arts, movement, sound, physical design, etc. Find one that inspires you and practice, practice, practice, until you excel at it. (And then practice some more.)

The physical evidence of your love would have been obvious in the volume’s flattened spine, dog-eared corners, scribbling in the margin, highlighting that bled through multiple pages.

Now, endorsing something is as simple as clicking an ever-present “Share” button.

The resulting flood of likes, +1’s, retweets, pins, and upvotes is enough to make anyone want to snap their laptop lid shut for a breath of air.

What if every time you clicked a “like” button a prompt appeared asking for 1-2 sentences explaining what caught your attention? How would that change your behavior? How would the extra context help others prioritize where to spend their time?

A few weeks ago I tried a little experiment where I forced myself to be more discriminating with my Instagram likes; my index finger was struggling to keep up with the endless flow of beautiful pictures in my feed. I found myself substituting towards more substantive interactions like commenting to explain what caught my admiration or asking a question to learn more about the shot.

The same spirit inspired the creation of a Quora board called “Worth revisiting” as a home for content deserving of a long, happy shelf life and many rereadings.

I want my trail of digital bread crumbs to have weight, to signify, “If you only have time to read one thing, let this be it.”

The internet has accelerated the formation of and access to high-quality content like no other time before. And that’s awesome. What hasn’t changed is the amount of labor, care, and attention that goes into creating something truly great, something worthy of passing on. Let’s make sure that stuff, the stuff you truly love, is what makes it to the top.

Inspired by:

Robin Sloan’s Fish (source of the title of this post)

Dustin Senos’ Social Currency

Naz Hahmid’s Discernment

Tuhin Kumar’s Digital Scarcity

How do you design for the future?

Ask yourself: What’s changing? What’s enduring?

From an existing norm to an emerging pattern:

At the intersection of these [SHIFTS]
lies a plausible transformation for [TARGET]
to experience [VALUE / GOAL]

E.g.

Most of the time I was too distracted thinking about the logistics and etiquette of networking to really get to know the other person. Which group should I approach? How am I going to insert myself into this conversation non-awkwardly? Is my name tag visible? I feel like I’m smiling and nodding way too much right now…is this wine turning my teeth purple? Time to leave, how do I get the business card and make a graceful exit?

I realized that the chief source of my anxiety came from playing by those established rules. But rules are just a means to an end. And that end is to form a meaningful connection with someone. So now I opt for a more organic, leisurely route; no pressure to meet x number of people by the end of the hour. Instead of eight contrived conversations I come away with one or two insightful ones. And that’s a trade-off I’m willing to make any day.

Me: “That’s a really nice dress you have on.”

You: “Wow you must be blind. I’m clearly wearing a t-shirt and jeans.”

[Scene dies, audience squirms]

Take 2

Me: “That’s a really nice dress you have on.”

You: “Thanks, it’s for my quinceañera tomorrow! I had to wrestle another girl to the ground for it.”

2. Listen.

We’ve all been in conversations where one (or both) parties is too preoccupied with pushing their own agenda to pay attention to the other person.

In improv, even more so than in normal interactions, you’re constantly thinking (read: freaking out) about what you’re going to say and do next. The problem is that it’s near impossible to build momentum this way, let alone capitalize on the nuances that make a scene memorable.

3. No (wo)man is an island.

You might have a creative spark of genius and see the scene evolving in a certain direction, but your fellow actors take a different interpretation or change the relationship between your characters. Roll with it.

At the same time, there’s going to be those inevitable moments when you draw a total blank. NBD. That’s what your scene partners are there for, lean on them!

4. Fake it until you make it.

I remember one class where we played a gamed called “Bad Celebrity Impressions”; we had to act out a scene while imitating a celebrity that the teacher secretly assigned each of us.

30 seconds into the first scene it was clear one of the girls had no idea who she was supposed to be. “It’s ok, there’s no wrong answer,” Rick coached from the side. “That’s why this game is called Bad Celebrity Impressions.”

But she couldn’t seem to break free from the notion of trying to emulate a character she didn’t know. The longer she mulled and waited, the harder it became to insert herself into the scene.

It turns out she wasn’t the only one who had never heard of the celebrity they were supposed to be imitating. Another girl’s version of Dan Aykroyd had a British accent and a spastic left foot, but no one in the audience cared. It was funny, regardless.

~

The best part of taking the class was the chance to cross paths with some quirky, awesome individuals that I would have otherwise never met. A sampling:

Our fantastic teacher, a Michigan transplant who could sell you a tooth crown over the phone without knowing a single thing about them.

A hilariously endearing 18 year-old bottle blonde with a slight southern drawl and the poise of someone many years older. Reminds me of a modern day Lucille Ball. On Halloween she came to class as a zombie ’50s girl, complete with bloody lipstick gore and a slashed poodle skirt.

A former Jehovah’s Witness who is an absolute bundle of nervous energy. In any given scene you’re likely to find her sprawled on the floor, limbs splayed in all directions.

An older doctor with a great sense of style—all black outfits paired with chunky, color-blocked jewelry and cranberry glasses. During a game of Categories her visceral response to the prompt “people who act like they know everything” was to blurt out “my ex-husband” before devolving into hearty laughter.

A demure, blonde mechanical engineer and Pilates instructor who probably drives guys crazy. The kicker is that she’s so down-to-earth as to be entirely ignorant of the fact.

An iOS developer with a stripper pole in his apartment, which he claims to be a legacy from his former roommate. The guy makes a delicious homemade toasted sesame seed ice cream.

For us more ordinary folk, it’s a comforting thought. No responsibility for what I can’t control, right? The problem, of course, is that this is only partially true. Maybe successful people really are blessed with more than their fair share of serendipity. But they also tend to set themselves up for more lucky encounters by leading lives designed to attract them. It’s kind of like how the cupcakes that are the most evenly frosted end up with more sprinkles. (Ok, I admit that was a stretch. I’ve just always wanted to work in a cupcake analogy somehow).

What you realize after reflecting on a few of these stories, and maybe on your own experiences, is that there’s no monopoly on cultivating luck. Anyone can tilt the odds in their favor.

How? A few rules of thumb as a starting point:

1. Do one thing every day, no matter how small, where you feel not quite in your element, maybe even pretty darn vulnerable. It can be as dramatic as running down the street to ask out a stranger or as simple as trying a new weight machine at the gym.

2. When life gives you options, choose the one with the widest range of possible outcomes. You’ll be surprised at how often you rise to the occasion just by giving yourself the opportunity.

3. Move on before you feel you’re ready. This isn’t to say never finish what you start or rush off and leave a mess for others to clean up. But if you keep waiting for all the variables to fall into place you’ll always end up floating in someone else’s wake.

4. Cherish time spent in others’ company. How much do you actually believe that everyone you meet has something worthwhile to teach you?

None of the above is groundbreaking by any stretch. It’s all rather intuitive, in fact. So why aren’t more people doing these things? If acknowledging the truth of a simple idea was all it took, the world would be a much more level playing field.

It’s not easy to push beyond your comfort zone every day. It’s not easy to embrace uncertainty. It’s not easy to fight inertia and voluntarily disrupt a comfortable routine. It’s not easy to invest in relationships when there are ten more urgent things on your to-do list all with more immediate and tangible consequences.

Just remember that luck isn’t something that passively happens to people. It’s something that can be actively cultivated with a measure of courage. So go out there and earn your sprinkles.

First and foremost, you should only focus on scaling growth when you’re confident your product satisfies a true user need.

Once you’ve achieved product-market fit, a simple framework can help guide your growth strategy:

1. Acquisition
   • What is the thing people are here to do?
   • How do you get them in the door quickly?
2. Activation
   • What is the “aha” moment or “must have” experience?
   • How do you get people to this point as fast as possible (i.e. in seconds)?
3. Engagement
   • How do you continue to deliver as much core product value as possible?
4. Virality

Notice that virality doesn’t come into the picture until you’ve proven you can deliver a compelling benefit to users. Avoid gimmicks that drive sign-ups in the short-term but alienate users in the long-run.

Finally, your growth strategy should be a function of your product. Some products don’t necessarily have one big “aha” moment; instead, the user gradually discovers its value over time.

Tying your growth strategy to your product

Answering 3 key questions can help you decide how your growth strategy relates to your product.

First, what’s your product’s “atomic unit”? This is the fundamental object that people are consuming and/or creating. Some examples:

• Instagram – photo
• Twitter – tweet
• Tumblr – post
• DropBox – file
• Codecademy – lesson

It’s important to identify and hone in on one atomic unit. Juggling multiple often results in a disjointed and muddled product experience.

Second, what’s your product’s core benefit? Here’s one way to go about figuring this out:

1. Identify your “must have” users – who are the people who would be very disappointed if they could no longer use your product?
2. Ask 20-30 of these users to explain the primary benefit they receive from the product. It’s ideal to ask these questions through an in-product survey, when users are in the mindset to answer them accurately.
3. Group then narrow down the responses to 3-4 benefit statements and ask people to choose their favorite.
4. Ask users why they chose that benefit.

Third, what’s the KPI that predicts whether a sign-up will activate and become an engaged user?

• For Facebook, it’s getting an individual to 7 friends in 10 days.
• For DropBox, it’s getting a new user to link a computer and add a file.

Every growth tactic you consider should be judged according to how well it aligns with your product’s atomic unit, core benefit, and key user activation metric.

Finally, once you set the growth metrics, it’s important to continuously question them – are these still the right metrics to focus on as your product evolves?

Optimizing sign-up flows

How do you evaluate different sign-up flows and decide where to allocate time and resources? The first step is understanding all of the various channels that are bringing new users to your product. Determine the conversion rate of each and prioritize based on the following 4 points:

• It’s easier to build on a strength than to improve a weakness.
• Likewise, it’s easier to get an active user to do more than to get an inactive user to do anything. LinkedIn, for instance, sends “Who’s been viewing your profile” emails to active users of the site (20% CTR) rather than inactive members (5% CTR).
• Desire – Friction = Conversion. It’s a lot easier to reduce friction than to create desire.
• Apply the 10% rule: Assuming you can increase the conversion rate of each channel by 10%, how many incremental users do you get from each flow?

After you find a flow that works, run A/B tests to optimize it. Having an A/B testing framework helps you make informed decisions, and it fosters a culture where data trumps opinions and where rapid iteration is encouraged. Keep in mind, however, that A/B testing will only get you to a local maximum, not a breakthrough change. 

Lego blocks! But not just any ol’ lego blocks. They can help you understand someone’s communication preferences, motivations, and decision-making style, all before the other person even opens their mouth.

The idea, likely familiar to anyone who’s taken an intro psych class or read up a bit on Carl Jung, is that people’s personality traits can be broadly broken out into four groups. The labels vary, but the Insights Discovery tool used at Microsoft classifies by “color energy” (excuse the slightly cheesy descriptors):

Fiery Red

• assertive
• determined
• purposeful
• decisive
• daring
• realistic

Cool Blue

• tactful
• concise
• analytical
• structured
• consistent
• exact

Earth Green

• sensitive
• reflective
• cooperative
• patient
• reliable
• loyal

Sunshine Yellow

• impulsive
• enthusiastic
• optimistic
• engaging
• convincing
• active

You can visualize the four colors plotted along two dimensions: attitude and function. Attitude is how you react to external and internal experiences (introversion vs. extraversion), while function describes how you prefer to make decisions (more thinking or more feeling). Red generally corresponds to an extraverted thinker, green to an introverted feeler, blue to an introverted thinker, and yellow to an extraverted feeler.

Everyone exhibits all four colors to a certain extent, but we tend to align with a dominant and secondary hue. For a small (and enviable) subset of the population, this combination consists of opposing color energies, i.e. green & red or blue & yellow. Hello, creative tension.

As with any simplistic framework, you can’t take it as gospel. But for the amount of time invested (~30 minutes), the assessment is surprisingly insightful. Beyond the self-awareness, what’s been most interesting is learning how to appeal to the underlying motivations of each color type. When working with people who have a lot of red energy, for example, you’ll meet with more success if you stay grounded in the concrete, give them space to operate, and focus on outcomes. This kind of adaptation obviously doesn’t happen overnight but it’s a worthwhile long-term goal.

-Tour guide at the Teatro Colon, Buenos Aires

Some companies unlock value by tapping into a deep-rooted psychological need. As our guide noted, these impulses have been around for a long time. Humans generally like:

To connect (Facebook, Twitter)
To share (Instagram, Tumblr)
To learn (Codecademy, Quora)
To be respected for our knowledge (Quora, Yelp)
To help others (Yelp, LinkedIn)

If you’re not addressing one of these fundamental desires, a second way to create value is by reducing friction in other parts of people’s lives so that they can spend more time doing one of the above. Companies in this category include Uber, Evernote, and Square.

A third type of value creation happens when a company is able to humanize interactions where the original person-to-person link has been obscured. During a recent Airbnb stay, I found myself treating my surroundings with much more care than I would have taken if we had booked a hotel. The reason was not just the understanding that I would be reviewed afterwards, but the simple act of meeting Florencia, the apartment owner, meant that her face stayed with me throughout our stay. You make a more concerted effort to conserve resources and keep things tidy when you’ve met the person who’ll to deal with the consequences of your actions. A number of industries—healthcare, environment, government—stand to benefit from the better alignment of incentives that results from reintroducing the human element into formerly impersonal interactions.

Five plus years of classes (though not much to show for it) and trips to four Spanish-speaking countries later, I’ve broadened my vocabulary a bit beyond your typical Tex-Mex menu. I’ve also found myself captivated by the Spanish culture and its people; South America, especially, has won my heart. Everywhere you go on the continent you’ll find a warm welcome, down-to-earth conversation, and an optimistic outlook. Interactions are light on pleasantries but rarely lacking in sincerity. Locals readily engage you in Spanish, pausing to fill in missing vocabulary or offer smiles of encouragement.

Small moments stick in your mind. The gyro store owner who insisted on waiting five more minutes before serving us so that the lamb would be cooked to his satisfaction, though we were hungry enough to have unwittingly accepted less than well-done shawarmas. The waiter at Café Oui Oui who took the time to explain the specials menu in laboriously slow Spanish, gesturing and even drawing pictures on my napkin until he saw my face light up with recognition.

The cultural linchpin is the closeness of the family unit, especially the bond between mother and child, which you can sense strolling down any random street in Buenos Aires or Bogotá. “Cariño,” the Spanish word for “dear,” is spoken liberally. There’s a unique expectation that emotions, big or small, should flow freely. It’s not hard to draw the line between such an environment and the makeup of a relatively stable and caring society.

Life in Spanish-speaking countries moves at its own methodical meander. Say what you will about the impact on productivity, but the resulting conversational habits are refreshing. There’s a genuine investment in exploring the thoughts, feelings, and attitudes of the moment. Summarization and succinctness have their place, sure, but so does the dilly dallying that leads to the laughter, quiet, and empathy that stitches us a little closer.

Oh, New York.

Before you, I didn’t realize it was possible to be utterly seduced, swept off your feet by a city.

I know I’m not the first to declare “I’m smitten!” and I certainly won’t be the last.

But like everyone who falls under your spell, I can’t help but feel that our relationship was special, somehow more meaningful.

Don’t you remember when we took the elevator to the rooftop of the New Museum and I traced your glittering silhouette against an inky night sky? And what about that time we sat in Washington Square at dusk and watched fireflies flicker friendly hello and that guy came by on his bike and chalked the word “LOVE” on the ground in front of our bench?

If the scenes feel trite on paper, they were no less magical in the moment.

~

New Yorkers are, above all else, strivers. We’re not sure exactly what we want but we know it’s something better than what we have now. So we push ourselves to be the best we can humanly be and steer clear of introducing the word tradeoff into our vocabulary. Happiness awaits just as soon as we can get that next promotion, move into that dream Village apartment, find that perfect someone.

The city gives us an antidote if we pause long enough to take note. You’ll never find a more welcoming or accessible place to explore your interests, immerse yourself in a passion, and build a network of supportive friends. Throw yourself into every experience and, most importantly, savor the moment. Pay attention to what inspires you, what tires you, who are the doers and who are the talkers. Figure out what personal success and happiness mean to you.

Thank you, New York, for the reminder to stay astoundable, the opportunity to push beyond the familiar, the chance to try on alternate futures for size. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

Not quite googling with friends.

Think about the last decision you made where you sought out the opinion of others. The process probably started with a determination of who and how many people to consult. After gathering all of the feedback you had to figure out which perspectives were the most influential. And at the end of it all there were still probably people you would have liked to speak with but didn’t get a chance to.

Social search is about reducing the friction in each step of this process by tapping into the data scattered throughout social networks across the web and using it to help people make more informed decisions.

A few insights from the offline world

The value you place on input from your social circle depends on:

• How much uncertainty surrounds the decision and the amount of readily available information
• The magnitude of the decision and its consequences
• How much taste matters

At one end of the spectrum are decisions related to your career, relationships, etc. that rate highly across all three dimensions. At the other end is the choice about which restaurant to go to for brunch or what movie to watch on a Friday night. Trip and event planning related decisions, as well as larger discretionary purchases, fall somewhere in between.

The relevance of any one person’s opinion depends on:

• That person’s topical expertise on the matter at hand (the more complex and consequential a decision, the more this counts)
• How well that person knows you
• How similar or dissimilar that person is to you

Another factor is the decision framework—are you choosing from among a limited consideration set or are you open to a wide array of options? In the case of the former, close ties are often able to offer the most discerning opinions because of their insights into your tastes and preferences. If the name of the game is discovery, however, weak ties are usually best at introducing you to categorically new alternatives.

Social search today

We’re still tackling the low-hanging fruit, e.g. surfacing a friend’s Yelp review or Foursquare tip in response to a search for a certain restaurant. These types of social signals tend to be the most straightforward to match with a particular query.

But what are the chances your friend has critical new information that might sway your choice of venue on top of the crowd-sourced wisdom of 328 other Yelpers who’ve dissected the dining experience at L’Artusi? Probably not high. The same can be said for products reviewed on Amazon.

In the future?

Where social search stands to make the most strides is in helping people negotiate more complex and important decisions. An interesting commonality shared by this category of decisions is that they often benefit the most from the perspective offered by weak ties. As Mark Granovetter first pointed out in 1973, it’s our acquaintances, not our closest friends, who are likely to introduce us to the opportunities and people who will dramatically change our lives.

So the social search of tomorrow should be better at surfacing weak ties. What does this look like in practice? Maybe it’s highlighting the Quora profile of a friend of a friend who’s answered a question about a company you’ve previously browsed on Glassdoor. Or maybe, in response to your search for “things to do in Germany”, it’s pulling up the Airbnb listing of a fellow Penn alum who has an apartment for rent in Berlin.

One other wrinkle to note is that the more complicated and critical a decision, the more likely it’ll be carried out in private and not public forums. This has implications for the integration of results across social networks, i.e. not every interaction should be posted to your Facebook wall.

My parents never found a more effective babysitter for me growing up than Bill Watterson. I whiled away many a happy afternoon on the floor of random Barnes & Nobles aisles, back against the shelves, comfortably oblivious to passerby who might be interested in perusing whatever author I was in the way of.

Calvin & Hobbes fans know that our protagonist’s dad is big on building character, or as Calvin sees it, “being miserable.” A year out from graduation, informed by both my first real experience working in a professional environment and sustaining relationships outside of the college Miracle-Gro bubble, I think I’m finally starting to conceptualize what it means to possess “character.” A fuzzy word to begin with, the term has become watered down to the point where young people today think of it as either a stamp of approval from someone in our grandparent’s generation, or a stand-in that means “more towards the Mother Teresa as opposed to Hitler end of the morality spectrum.”

As far as I know, there are no classes you can take in college on how to be a good person. The general assumption is that if you make it this far without any felonies to your name, your parents must have done a passable job on the right versus wrong front. Somewhere along the way though, we’ve lost the fuller, richer implications of what it means to exhibit character. What makes a person the kind of coworker, best friend, significant other, Amazing Race teammate, [fill-in-the-blank], that you want to have by your side?

In the absence of a straightforward measure of character, our society has increasingly turned to profession as a proxy barometer. Bankers are conscious-less sell-outs, TFAers are passionate do-gooders, slot yourself somewhere in between. At their most innocuous these stereotypes push us towards hasty first impressions, at their worst they skew the way we approach career decisions.

Working in an environment that tends to bring out people’s worst tendencies, I’ve seen my fair share of true colors not so much shining as exploding through, but I digress. Despite, or as a result of this fact, I’ve met some incredible peers from my current spot, people who’ve restored my faith in financial institutions and who would be an amazing addition to any team lucky enough to have them. I’ve also met people who I wouldn’t be surprised to learn take pleasure in stealing lollipops from babies. Point being, you’ll find a similar spread in any industry you decide to call home. The key is figuring out who the good apples are as soon as possible and setting yourself up to learn from their example.

The people who’ve most influenced my sense of character share some combination of the following:

1) They’re ridiculously hard-working and capable of making sacrifices day in and day out. In Walter Mischel’s oft-cited study, they’re the patient tots who held out for two marshmallows later instead of one now

2) They’re generous with their most precious assets—their time and energy.

3) They’re quick to see the good in others and more forgiving of shortcomings than people will often afford themselves.

4) They’re sure of what they like and why they like it but remain persuadable in thought and action.

5) They’re temperate in their response to both triumph and failure—humble and deflective in the face of the former, resilient and optimistic in the face of the latter. Put another way, they have a great sense of humor.

Why go to a regular bar when you can jump through hoops to get in somewhere predicated on being too cool for most?

That Groucho Marx was an astute guy.

I won’t focus too much on the drinks themselves since a) Yelp will be a much better resource in that department; b) as many of you know I can nurse a single drink for hours on end so my sample size is rather limited; and c) the “mixologists” at most of these places are skilled enough to craft customized concoctions, and some do away with the menu entirely. Expect to spend $15-$20 a round and don’t forget to check if it’s cash only before you head out.

In order of preference…

Raines Law Room

If you have a significant other in your life, take him/her to Raines Law Room ASAP. We’re talking plush sofas in rich eggplant hues, velvet curtain partitions, and a jazzy “The Girl From Ipanema” soundtrack.

And if you don’t, go anyway and temper your self-loathing singledom with a drink or three.

The coolest part of the space is the open bar/kitchen area where you can watch (and smell) the drinks being made. I thought my Grapefruit Collins was divine, but then again I’m quite partial to citrus.

They take email reservations Sunday – Tuesday and are first-come, first-serve the rest of the week.

Milk and Honey

Most of M&H’s neighbors on Eldridge appear to be either boarded up and closed down or abandoned and graffitied over. The only indication you’ve reached the right place is the nondescript “M + H” stickering on the door and the camera overhead.

Nonetheless, this is probably the best setting to actually have a conversation and enjoy the company of the people you’re with. The booths are designed so that each party has its own visual and auditory space, you can “speak easy” and still be heard. Coat hooks line the narrow hallway and 1920’s ditties reminiscent of the accompaniment to Sleep No More play over the sound system.

In her mannerisms and choice of messy upswept bun, our waitress reminded me of Helena Bonham Carter. Trust me and just go with the Bee’s Kiss for your first drink. Unless you’re deathly allergic to honey, in which case take a sip of someone else’s because it’s that good.

The staff here is exemplary and what sets this place apart. They’re professional, courteous, and most critically, non-pushy. They didn’t get all in a tizzy when half our party moved on (ahem PDT) but let us finish our drinks at our leisure.

Though not publicized, reservations are taken by email.

Angel’s Share

The bartenders here know what they’re doing. And even if they don’t, they look like it because they’re Japanese and sport wickedly well-trimmed facial hair.

I’ve never dropped by and not had to wait, even on a week night. But it’s hard to begrudge the place when the hostess checks in every few minutes and showers you with typical Asian apologeticness. Pretty sure she would start apologizing for being tall and having long hair if you let her go on.

The 14-page menu is a bit overwhelming if you don’t have a spirit in mind. I’d like to try a Japanese whiskey based drink if I go back, but their Stormy Weather is best in class. It’s served in a graceful copper mug (yeah, I just described a mug as graceful, don’t judge until you see it) that’ll bring back memories of campfires, hot chocolate, and appropriately enough, summer thunderstorms.

Surprised to see that they were promoting a sponsored drink of sorts with Bacardi. I’m not a liquor connoisseur by any stretch, but it seems obvious even to me that the benefits of the promotion fall mostly to one side.

Employees Only

EO gives PDT a run for its money in terms of coolest speakeasy front. Give a wave to the physic sitting in the entryway, who’ll pull back the curtains on your future for a mere $20 fee.

You can debate the fortune teller’s predictions over dinner, sitting beneath a greenhouse roof that filters in natural lighting. People come here for the drinks but the food was surprisingly good. Xenia and I savored refreshing Pimm’s Cup and Ginger Smash cocktails while snacking on pumpernickel bread with tzatziki inspired dressing. Both of our mains—duck confit and asparagus salads—were exactly what we wanted in a light meal. The duck confit is a particularly good deal for $14, with generous portions of shredded leg meat. Fellow Philadelphians will be excited to know they offer Capogiro for dessert; we ended up going with the poached apple tufahija, a twist on a classic Bosnian treat that wasn’t overwhelmingly sweet.

Weather Up

I’m not sure this Tribeca establishment actually qualifies as a speakeasy, but the entrance is unmarked which has to give it some posh points. Apparently the bartenders here were trained by the head mixologist at M&H, and they welcome customized drink requests.

The Sugarman’s Oysters come with rave reviews.

Please Don’t Tell

Fronting as: a hot dog store. Well, a Crif Dog store, to be exact. What the heck is a crif dog? I still have no idea. I couldn’t quite get over the “bacon-wrapped and deep-fried” part of the description. And somehow David Chang and Momofuku kimchi inserted themselves in there as well.

Anyways, PDT probably has the most involved initiation process. Yelpers lament the 20 required phone calls made at 3 pm on the day of your intended visit for those attempting to secure a reservation. We lucked out of this rigmarole thanks to a friend who had to back out of her reservation at the last minute.

Round two is actually making it inside. The novelty of stepping in the phone booth, dialing the rotary phone, and watching the tufted black door swing open is pretty cool the first time. But then you’re greeted by the progeny of Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga, aka the hostess who sincerely believes she has the most difficult job in the world and “Jeez, just hold on a minute, I’m cleaning your table!”

Inside, you’ll find a lot of decorative taxidermy. One particular bear at the end of the bar provides the perfect dramatic backdrop for the more theatrically inclined.

I seriously considered the bacon infused bourbon (described as having a smoky aftertaste) but was glad I went with the Rosemary Society recommended by our suspenders-wearing waiter.

The bartenders are cute and will playfully correct your offhand comment about musical chairs (they’re technically stools).

Don’t use the bathroom here unless you really need to go. There’s barely enough room to get your business done.

Apotheke

My experience here will always be memorable for reasons unrelated to the venue itself, but that’s a story for another day. Tucked in an L-bend alley somewhere in Chinatown, Apotheke, as its name would suggest, groups its menu by “prescription”: pain killers, stimulants, aphrodisiacs, etc. So come here with an ailment worth curing and an adventurous spirit. Waitstaff input might actually be useful here given the range of somewhat arcane flavors, e.g. Shiso leaf, taro root, pickled okra, and fennel oil essence.

The music was a bit loud but I forgave the volume thanks to a decent mix of Adele, Carla Bruni, and Modest Mouse.

Be sure to stop in the restroom before you leave. The decor carries through nicely and I was a big fan of the sleekly minimalist basin sink and spout.

Little Branch

Though it’s definitely not the only speakeasy situated below street level, Little Branch has a decidedly subterranean feel thanks to ultra dim lighting, exposed concrete floors, and sequestered high-backed booths.

I stuck with variants on a theme of mojito all night and was decently pleased. The drinks are strong enough to make you feel like you’re getting your money’s worth. Extra points for service that was refreshingly laid-back and low-key. From the bouncer to the bartender to the server, you don’t get the feeling any of them thinks their job automatically makes them more interesting than the next person.

Death + Co.

I think if this had been the first speakeasy I visited in the city, my impression might have been more favorable. As it were, the decor (chandeliers and high-back leather tufted booths? been there, seen that) struck me as uninspired. The Paddy Melt I ordered on recommendation of the bartender was a notch above average, nothing to swoon over.

I would have liked to sample the much yelped about truffle mac & cheese, but their recent C grade sanitary rating stayed my hand. The drinks are fine, I rationalized, because the bar is totally separate from the kitchen, right? And besides, I can see the action going on in front of me. These are the excuses that go through your head when you have two weeks left in New York City and a bucket list to check off.

The doormen at Death + Co. deserve a hat tip—no shortage of pleasant, smile-filled interactions to take the sting off of a 90 minute wait.

The Tippler

I guess the only thing that really qualifies The Tippler as a speakeasy is its unmarked entrance, assuming you’re not counting the bright bulbs of the “OPEN” sign above the door. The establishment is apparently a frequent Googler haunt, which makes sense given its proximity to their NY offices.

Descend a flight of stairs to enter a cavernous bar with ample seating for groups and a decent-sized dance floor. The vibe here is definitely more high energy if the pumping music doesn’t tip you off to this right away. Stick with a low maintenance drink order; I made the mistake of asking for a Corpse Revivier which took the bartender 15 minutes to make and came with a bill steep enough to invoke the dead.

Blind Barber

Slide open the door at the back of this real barber shop in Alphabet City, and you’re equally likely to find yourself bumping elbows with a middle-aged Jersey housewife celebrating her birthday, a plump Australian conversing at the bar, or a cadre of “tough” hipsters dressed as if they rode their motorcycles over instead of taking the L.

The banquette seating inside is sparse; if you’re a group it might be worth making a reservation to snag the sweet library nook in the back. The combination of ultra dim lighting, hip hop blasting from the DJ booth, and the spacious area in front of the bar, hints at the occasional dance party. It’s definitely the rowdiest speakeasy I’ve been to so far.

For my fellow menu skimmers, just a heads up that the Sweeney Todd contains an entire raw egg.

Bathtub Gin

Fronting as: Stone Street Coffee. If dancing in a copper bathtub in public is on your bucket list, go to Bathtub Gin. Drinks are sub-par though they’ll still set you back quite a few pretty pennies. Great DJ when we stopped by on a Friday night but good grief it was LOUD. We were shouting at each other from across the table barely two feet apart. This is probably best as a second or third stop of the night, when it’s less about quality drinks and more about let’s-dance-with-strangers. This is also one of those places with an awkward bathroom attendant (gotta feel for the guy).

On the plus side, it is close to Artichoke’s.

The Back Room

Bouncer: “Are you guys 25?”
Us: “Um, no.”
Bouncer: “Sorry, you gotta be 25 or older.”
Us: “Ok.” *Shrug and start to walk away*
Bouncer: “Uh, wait. Actually it’s fine, come on in.”
Us: “Ok.” *Admire cool alley way entrance*

Once inside…

Us: *Make faces at the overwhelmingly strong drinks served in awkward-to-hold teacups and beer bottles served in brown paper bags* *Wonder if the owners think the portraits of naked women on the walls justify the pseudo 25 and up age limit*

From a management perspective, I think where a company can really differentiate its culture comes down to the third element, autonomy.

Purpose, for the most part, is self-selecting, especially as people progress through their careers. Not to say that a CEO’s rallying pep talk is superfluous, but the difference will be at the margin.

Mastery requires a bit more of a concerted effort on the part of the employer to evaluate development and make sure people are being appropriately challenged. But there’s no shortage of companies offering the chance to work on interesting problems.

So that brings us to autonomy. It’s the element that requires the most finessing because it encompasses not only the freedom and decision-making authority people feel they have on the job, but also the quality of life they’re able to enjoy outside of it. Much of the heat Square has gotten recently falls “squarely” (couldn’t help myself) into this category. Autonomy is also the hardest element to maintain as an organization grows and likely accounts for many a decision to leave for a smaller, nimbler competitor.

It occurred to me that the most interesting individuals I’ve encountered exhibit aspects of both archetypes. They’re thoughtful but able to throw caution to the wind, goofy but able to buckle down and get things done. It’s the kind of tension that underlies compelling characters and all great storytelling.

-Rem Koolhaas

What the Museum of the City of New York lacks in a memorable, rolls off your tongue kind of name, it makes up for with its current exhibition, The Greatest Grid: The Master Plan of Manhattan, 1811-2011 (hat tip to Smitha for the recommendation).

This is a must see for cartography geeks and anyone with a passing interest in how the city’s urban landscape came to be. They’ve extended the exhibition’s run through July 15th, so you have plenty of time to plan a visit. I was lucky enough to walk through the front doors 15 minutes before a presentation by the exhibit’s curator, Hilary Ballon, a Professor of Urban Studies & Architecture at NYU.

A sampling of what you’ll learn:

• Why the original planning commission rejected the models of European cities and where they looked to instead for inspiration
• Why the boundaries of the grid system were set at 14th St and 155th St
• The length to width ratio of a city block
• How lot sizes were determined
• Why certain streets—14th, 23rd, 34th, 42nd—are wider than the rest
• How Fourth Avenue became Park Avenue
• The story behind Broadway (contrary to popular myth, it’s not a holdover Indian trail)
• How the island’s “flow” evolved from an east-west orientation to an uptown-downtown vernacular

Make sure you leave time for the second floor gallery, which contains eight visions for the city’s future. The proposals span the gamut from “will happen” (a virtual grid overlaying the city’s physical infrastructure) to “we’ll see” (floating city blocks that extend onto the water).

You know the feeling. FOML is most common when you’re fielding an open-ended search, where you have a general sense of what you’re looking for but receptive to whatever you come across during the course of the search itself. Maybe you’re in the hunt for new headphones and debating Bose or Beats. Or maybe you’re a Spanish teacher looking for lesson plan ideas on Federico García Lorca.

The best sites not only quickly direct you to relevant content, they give you confidence you’ve exhausted everything they have to offer. There’s no link buried somewhere you might have missed with more pertinent information. If you sketched out the site’s organizational design, it would resemble a MECE tree as opposed to a sprawling spiderweb.

Some companies do a great job of mitigating (and profiting from) discovery anxiety through smart design. Amazon’s “Related Items” and “Customers Who Viewed This Item Also Viewed” come to mind immediately.

I think this explains why I’ve never warmed to the shopping experience on Etsy. For a site whose selling point is finding one-of-a-kind items, it falls short of its potential as a discovery tool. The categorization list is overwhelming and requires too much sifting on the part of the user. If I’m shopping for a friend who loves vintage clothing and accessories, where’s the best place to start? “Vintage,” “Clothing,” “Bags and Purses,” or “Jewelry”? And what’s included in “Everything Else”?

It all comes down to managing expectations.

The staff at Clinton Street Baking Company are so good at it they can make you feel happy to have waited “only” an hour and 45 minutes instead of the two hours originally quoted. That’s an hour and 45 minutes. For blueberry pancakes.

Likewise, the more transparency management can offer information hungry investors, the more leniency they can expect from the markets. It explains why Company A’s stock price gets pummeled even after reporting healthy earnings, while Company B escapes unscathed despite announcing a 300 million dollar impairment charge. The CFO of the former gave analysts little in the way of future outlook, whereas the latter had been guiding towards a goodwill write-down for several months, and laid out clear forecasts for revenue growth and margins.

Knowing how to manage expectations is one of those skills no one gives you much credit for when things are going well, but whose importance becomes painfully clear when botched. Think back to your last well-managed project experience. Chances are it was characterized by frequent and open communication, realistic deadlines, and judiciously imparted praise and constructive feedback.

It’s actually quite astounding the kinds of things the human mind can come to terms with as long as it’s given fair warning. Don’t abuse people’s ability to handle the truth, but don’t discredit their understanding either.

“I thought it would be best to wait until the holidays were over.”

It was meant to be an explanation of sorts, but hung in the air like a plea.

“No matter what happens, we’ll manage,” she said softly, pushing the plate of dosa towards him. “And Shruti is old enough to understand.”

This is what stayed his hand the most. The thought of Shruti’s college education in jeopardy was more than he could stomach at the moment. With leaden fingers he opened the envelope and scanned its contents.

“$9,000 a month, starting in January. It’s out of the question.”

~

The tap on the passenger window broke Haroon’s concentration on the stoplight in front of him. He turned and shook his head at the couple standing next to the curb, switching on his off duty light. The pressure from the seatbelt on his bladder was growing every minute.

It wasn’t until he turned onto Seventh that he remembered the Barnes and Noble was in the other direction. The bookstore was his preferred rest stop in West Village; its bathrooms were relatively clean given the lack of foot traffic.

Circling back around the block, he saw a young woman bounding towards him, arms waving energetically. She was one half of the same couple from before, still too far away to recognize him. Seeing her face fall as he drew nearer, Haroon laughed and stopped the cab.

“Where to?” he asked as they slid in on a gust of brisk air. It was unseasonably cold for mid-May. He exhaled quietly on hearing 19th and Park; he could make it another ten minutes.

Glancing in his rearview mirror, Haroon was struck by how much the pair resembled a couple he had the chance to photograph more than two years ago.

~

Meredith and Jason’s engagement shoot had been one of his first solo bookings after Peter retired. She was a nurse at Lenox Hill at the time and he was earning his Masters degree in architecture from…was it the New York Institute of Technology?

He remembered the session well. Brooklyn Botanical Gardens had been the chosen backdrop. Heavy morning fog nearly upset their plans, but nature’s caprice ended up lending a winking, fairytale quality to the pictures. Haroon’s favorite from that day was one of the pair peeking around the base of a large oak tree, a coil of vapor winding its way up the trunk.

~

In the weeks before she was set to leave for Rutgers last fall, Shruti had been helping him pore over thousands of photos to select the lucky few that would grace the pages of Kumar Photography’s new website. The shot of Meredith and Jason went in the “need to contact” pile; their old client agreement only licensed them to use images for up to six months after they were taken.~”Hello?” The woman’s voice on the other end sounded muffled.”Hi, this is Haroon from Kumar Photography, may I speak with Meredith or Jason Palmer?”

2. Never be afraid to ask. You’re underestimating people’s desire to be helpful.

We joke that were we ever to lose you in a foreign country, we’d know exactly where to look first.

“Excuse me, where’s a good place to get a bowl of noodle soup?”

Remember the time we took you to Chez Nous for your birthday and you insisted the meal was lovely and you were so full you couldn’t eat another bite, and then I caught you boiling a pot of water at one in the morning to make ramen?

smell

Wandering the aisles of Walgreens, you cleared the shelves of lavender soap. Later, you tucked the bars among the folds of freshly laundered towels.

see

Laugh lines, rippling outward from your eyes, though I can’t always tell where they end and the worry wrinkles begin.

hear

ass-per-RAY-gus

struh-BEAR-ree

Because what’s the fun of all sounding like Merriam-Webster pronunciation guides?

Because you gave up the expectation of slipping seamlessly in and out of conversation so that we could show the College Board we know the difference between a cabal and a coterie.

And you’re still my favorite Taboo partner.

touch

A rib-squeezing, leaves no question how much she loves you kind of hug.

I can’t blame the socks too much for deserting. Consigned to cover one of our stinkiest body parts, afforded few opportunities in the spotlight of someone’s overall ensemble, and scorned by a renegade few as “feet prison guards,” socks have it tough. So I’m okay with the idea of them being transported to a better place, maybe some crazy sock party in an alternate universe.

Then there was the whole pillow case incident. Pretty bold laundromat black hole, pretty bold. You’re lucky I only use one pillow and sheet sets come with two cases. Still, I kept quiet.

But now that you’ve progressed to, um, more personal items of clothing, I feel obliged to speak up. You must not understand how long it takes a less well-endowed person like myself to find a properly fitting version of some of these wardrobe fundamentals.

I’m starting to suspect that the Buddha statues and fresh oranges put out by the owners aren’t any sort of religious offering, but rather an attempt to appease you. What’s your price? A different brand of detergent? A longer rinse cycle? I’m just asking for a temporary truce for the holidays, please? At least until I have time to replenish my closet.

Sincerely,

Partially Clothed

• They travel in packs at a pace slightly faster than the advance of molten magma.
• They stop in the middle of intersections without warning to consult a map.
• They whack you in the face as they open said map.
• Their suitcases play xylophone on your shins.
• They attract an entire striving ecosystem of tour bus operators, comedy show advertisers, and slightly sinister-looking Disney characters.
• Anything and everything becomes photo worthy, from the Metrocard lying on a sewer grate to the mammoth-sized Sean John billboard they try to fit all in one frame, crushing your left pinky toe in the process. In the five minute walk from the subway station to your building, you interrupt at least as many Kodak moments.
• And of course, the most common gripe: They’re always, always looking up.

But this last reason is exactly why I love Times Square and its ever-present tourist throng. They bring an energy and dynamism that go to the heart of what makes this city such an amazing place. Watching them take in the scenery, it’s like having your senses recalibrated to the sights and sounds around you for the first time. As reminders to stay curious and astound-able, tourists are the perfect antidote to the blasé breeziness of hipster culture.

And if you pause, for just a second, at 46th and Broadway, you’ll catch the quiet moments amidst the commotion: the tired shoppers savoring a coffee break, laughing as they review their iPhone pictures; the toddler waving absentmindedly at the giant LED screen in imitation of everyone around him; the reassuring backward glances between couples as they negotiate the crowd, fingers linked.

My family’s never been part of the doesn’t-camping-out-in-the-Best-Buy-parking-lot-sound-like-fun Black Friday contingent, but this year’s shopping spectacular was memorable for different reasons.

Waking up at the leisurely hour of 9:30, I traveled the great distance to my laptop in the living room, still rocking my oversized rubber ducky shirt and London Underground boxers. I showed some credit card love to Apple and Macys.com before doffing the PJs and heading out the door, the bulk of my purchases already done.

Our first brick-and-mortar stop was the AT&T store, where I upgraded my beloved but waning 3GS. Mom asks the sales associate if there’s any way to improve the signal quality on her non-smartphone device. There’s an uncomfortable pause before Omar says, “Unfortunately, no. Your signal strength will actually only worsen in a couple of months as we phase out our non-smartphone offerings.” Later that morning, I get a text message requesting feedback on Omar’s customer service and our overall retail experience.

Destination numero dos was The North Face store in Soho. I made a beeline for the metropolis parka in graphite, tried on a couple of sizes, and was ready to check out within minutes of our arrival. In response to the cashier’s routine, “Did anyone help you with your purchase today?” I almost responded, “Yeah, your website,” before catching myself and gesturing at the young guy milling around the store entrance (he did smile at us when we came in).

[Intermediate refueling breaks at Eataly and Cha-An, double yum]

We made a final pit stop at the Union Square Holiday Market, where I got to see Square in action for the first time at the Liddabits booth. The highlight was signing for the purchase on the iPhone’s touchscreen and watching my signature appear in beautifully scripted digital ink. Seriously, I have a pretty lame signature and it looked awesome on the Square app. I received the receipt as a text seconds later and the transaction posted immediately to my card.

Rounded out the day by selling my old phone on eBay within ten minutes of listing. Whew. Makes you wonder what the retail experience will look like five years from now.

2. John Mayer is the only contemporary artist your parents consistently recognize on the radio

3. You view the oven, dishwasher, and dryer as extra storage space

4. New clothes were always purchased two sizes too big with the understanding that you’d “grow into them”

5. Parents eschew Tylenol in favor of a “the weirder it smells, the more effective it is” home remedy philosophy

6. The coolest thing about your first sleepover was getting to count Easy Mac as a meal

7. Chances are higher you’ve had the “How do you expect to earn a living with an English degree?” talk as opposed to the “birds and the bees” talk

8. No matter the season, thermostat settings are 5-10 degrees wide of comfortable

9a. You were exposed to an inordinate amount of NewsHour with Jim Lehrer and other PBS programming

9b. You didn’t realize there was a difference between HBO and regular cable until you were 22

10. Conversations like the following are not uncommon:

“This is good, I didn’t know Jewish people had their own cereal.”

“Mom, it’s Kashi…not kosher.”

burrowing beneath a reluctant peel,
your dry detachment

fibrous white tendrils
cling to crevasses
to my finger
tips

spokes of pink teardrops are

tart sweetness
on my tongue
though the bitter aftertaste is what

lingers

Of all the recent coverage on education reform, this line from the NYT has stuck with me the most.

It’s a truism by now that our school system struggles to attract talented teachers. While meager pay and bureaucratic hoop-jumping (rightly) bear most of the blame, this quote reminds us of a stark reality of the job: it’s largely a thankless one.

Sure, as a society we acknowledge teachers’ mission critical role and many educators, especially at the outset, find motivation purely in the desire to give back.

But for the most part students, as the direct beneficiaries of a teacher’s work, are either too young or too absorbed in the ups and downs of their own world to fully appreciate the difference a good teacher can make.

You can argue it should be enough to see the progress in your students’ critical thinking or writing abilities, but experiencing consistent and firsthand affirmation can mean the difference between a two-year stint with TFA and a lifelong career.

In many ways, being a teacher is like being a parent with all the attendant struggles, but minus the obligatory gratitude and the opportunity to witness the “Oh, now I see why you made me do xyz!” moments down the road.

Fourteen years ago, I was lucky enough to be a third grader in Mrs. Thomas’ class at Doyle Elementary. One of the first assignments she gave us was to write a story using ten of the words on that week’s spelling list.

I went home and typed up a few paragraphs about a little girl named Julie, turned it in, and forgot all about it. A few days later, I was asked to stay after school. Mrs. Thomas was sitting at her desk with a copy of my story in her hands. Scanning the paper for red ink, I was surprised to hear her say how much she enjoyed reading it and how she wanted me to write more, beyond the required weekly assignments.

I met with her once a week for the rest of the year to share Julie’s latest adventure. Together the three of us explored haunted houses, discovered secret waterfalls, ate lots of ice cream cones, and commiserated over the fact that our parents wouldn’t let us eat even more ice cream cones.

It’s easy to see now that Mrs. Thomas gave me something invaluable—a love of the written word. But at the time, I was just an eight-year-old who didn’t quite understand why a grown-up was taking such an interest in her made-up stories.

So here is my heartfelt thank you to all the Mrs. Thomases of the world, many years belated but profounder because of it. I hope I have the chance to tell you in person one day soon.

~~

Postscript: I wonder how we can bridge the fundamental feedback gap teachers face? What if we’re able to reconnect them with former students for twenty or thirty minutes on a regular basis? Other ideas?

Thankfully, technology has made it a real undertaking to fall completely out of touch.

Five minutes and a few clicks of the mouse was all it took to learn that a friend was road-tripping to Savannah for the weekend, another was in the midst of a Law and Order marathon, a third needed help moving a sofa she had bought off Craigslist, a fourth had also thumbs-uped “Hard to Explain” by The Strokes on Pandora, a fifth had checked into Wattay International Airport, and a sixth had just snapped a lovely picture from a sunset run along the Hudson.

Social scientists have a name for the collective impact of this omnipresent stream of updates: “ambient awareness.” Much like the way you can gauge the mood of someone standing next to you through small cues like throat clearing or feet tapping, all of these virtual data points coalesce to give a surprisingly holistic view of a person’s day-to-day life.

In making it possible for people to stay in the loop without having to check in on a constant basis, ambient information is a huge improvement from being in the dark. But it also makes it easier to substitute away from more meaningful interactions. Rather than picking up the phone to give someone a call, we make do with a wall post or a quick email.

Information overload can also lead to inertia. You’re about to dial a friend’s number, but then you see their gchat status go from green to “Busy.” Now what? It kind of makes you nostalgic for the days when people would spontaneously call each other with no expectation of what would happen on the other end. So much faith!

The next time you find yourself perusing a friend’s profile, call or video chat the person instead. Even if you are interrupting, ninety-nine times out of one hundred, the reaction will be “It’s so nice to hear a familiar voice checking in.”

Rule 1: At any given moment, only one person in the group may be using a technological device (cell phone, computer, iPad, etc.)
Rule 2: Anytime someone in the group yells “Incognito!”, plaster yourself against the nearest wall for 10 seconds
Rule 3: Be an enabler

• Swap one article of clothing with someone else in the group
• Find someone who moved to the country less than 6 months ago and get to know their story
• Convince a store owner to give you something for free
• Do something best experienced in the current season
• Go to the nearest occupied bus stop and pretend to be a chicken for 3 minutes
• Help 5 people in need beyond giving money
• Make a dish centered around one ingredient no one in the group has tried before
• Publicly reenact a scene from a movie everyone in the group has seen
• Take a picture of the next 3 (different) trees you see and identify them
• Point and gaze upward at nothing in particular until a crowd of people gathers around you
• Make 5 little kids laugh
• Gain access to a building that requires an ID none of you have
• Visit a landfill; alternatively, follow the life cycle of a piece of trash as far as you can
• Initiate a conversation with a stranger on the subway. Get the person to say the word “hullabaloo” 5 times before he/she gets off
• Together, make something by hand you would love to keep, then try to sell it
• Convince a stranger to carry someone in your group for 2 blocks
• Track down the balls associated with 5 different sports and arrange them in a creative photo
• Listen, in person, to the story of someone over 60
• Stand on a street corner and ask 10 passerby what they’re most looking forward to about their day tomorrow
• Serenade a stranger with a love song
• Form a group sculpture and stay frozen in place for 5 minutes
• Draw on fake mustaches, go to the nearest Pizza Hut, and place an order in an Italian accent
• Mail a card to a friend or loved one of each person in the group

Thirty minutes later, I was dashing down a dim corridor after a very pregnant and absurdly nimble Lady Macduff, just in time to witness her (spoiler?) violent murder.

It’s all part of a typical visit to the historic McKittrick Hotel on West 27th Street, which British theatRE company Punchdrunk has transformed into a mind-bogglingly detailed set for its production of Sleep No More, loosely based off of works by Shakespeare and Daphne du Maurier.

Like no “play” you’ve seen before, Sleep No More invites guests to explore as much of its five-story, 100-room labyrinth as will fit in three hours. You’re welcome to leaf through yellowed medical tomes inauspiciously dog-eared to a section on “Pus,” scramble over crumbling brick enclosures in a shadowy sculpture garden, and even sample the Communion wafers set out in glass bowls in the infirmary, though I wouldn’t recommend it.  

Sooner or later you’ll cross paths with one of the actors who inhabit this otherworldly realm, each more attractive and often less clothed than the last, and who all have dual degrees in Parkour Acrobatics and Emoting Wordlessly With Their Eyes (the entire performance has less than five minutes of scripted text).

With multiple story lines and at least fifteen different characters, chances are high, almost guaranteed, that you won’t see everything. Repeat visits are encouraged and quite common among fervent fans, though with tickets close to $100 a pop, not a luxury many can afford.

The scene generally regarded as “can’t miss” doesn’t disappoint: an orgy rave featuring a blood-covered baby; enough strobe lighting to induce a seizure; and a fully nude, save for an enormous goat headpiece, male dancer.

The crux of the whole experience, though, is that all audience members have to don a Phantom of the Opera meets Ducktales style carnival mask.

The voyeuristic implications of slipping behind this veil of anonymity is where things get interesting. In playing off our visceral attraction to sex, violence, and other “base” spectacles, Sleep No More treads tried and true territory. Its conceit lies in giving us an excuse to indulge our rubbernecking inclinations in public, and in a highbrow artistic setting no less.

And indulge we do. Prepare to have your toes stepped on once or twice as people vie for prime viewing spots. At times the jostling gets so heated, audience members have been known to flip each other the finger.

For the boldest of the bold, there are several opportunities to follow one of the actors behind locked doors where the scene continues one-on-one. In my case, things got extra meta when the character I was pursuing proceeded to remove my mask. After scrutinizing someone for the better part of an hour from behind the refuge of a disguise, to be suddenly exposed and forced to meet her reciprocating gaze was one of the strangest sensations I’ve ever experienced.

At the end of the three hours, I was left with many more questions than answers: Who was the woman in the photograph the young girl was searching for? Why did the scarlet witch want the girl’s tears? What was the point of the red-headed guy’s lengthy tango with a door? Why was everyone kissing everyone in the banquet scene?

If you’re the kind of person who likes to know what’s happening at every second, this is probably not the show for you. But if you can accept and immerse yourself in its disjointed flow, Sleep No More will astound you for what it is: a tour de force of human creativity and the purest psychological escape you’ll find outside of your dreams.

It’s an often under-recognized facet of leadership that encapsulates many intangible qualities about someone’s working style.

Yesterday, I came across this $15 find at a street fair in the Lower East Side:

I’m in love with these flats. They’re cute, quirky, and absurdly comfortable.

The company that makes them, Terra Plana, is a brand with a cheeky sense of humor (click to enlarge);

a great design aesthetic (inside of their shoebox lid);

and a serious commitment to sustainability as a core part of their business model. Among other initiatives, they use vegetable tanned leather, natural cork insoles, and construction that stitches the upper directly onto the sole, which minimizes the amount of material and glue used.

Translation attempt below:

“The Language of Feelings”

One day, all the feelings and qualities of humankind gathered together.

After seeing Boredom yawn for the third time, Madness proposed a game of hide-and-seek. Intrigue raised an eyebrow; Curiosity, unable to contain himself, blurted out, “How do you play?”

“Well,” Madness explained, “I’ll cover my eyes and count to a million while everyone else hides. When I’ve finished counting, the first person that I find is the new ‘seeker.’”

Enthusiasm spun around to show her approval, which was seconded by Euphoria. Happiness jumped so high she finally managed to sway Doubt and even Apathy, who could never bring himself to be excited about anything.

But not everyone wanted to play. Truth didn’t see the point…why hide? To be found out in the end? Pride made it known she thought the game was silly, though secretly she was irritated she hadn’t thought of the idea. Cowardice just wasn’t inclined to risk it.

“One, two, three…” Madness began to count.

The first to find a hiding place was Laziness, who dropped down behind the first rock he came across in the road.

Faith climbed to the sky while Envy hid in the shadow of Triumph, who had managed to scale to the crown of the tallest tree. Generosity almost didn’t find a hiding spot at all, as every spot she discovered seemed perfect for one of her friends: A crystal clear lake? Ideal for Beauty; A crack in a tree trunk? Perfect for Timidity; The wing of a butterfly? More fitting for Sensuousness; A gust of wind? Splendid for Liberty. But at last, Generosity found her hiding spot in a ray of sun.

Egotism, on the other hand, secured a comfortable, airy place right at the start, but only for himself, of course. Falsehood pretended to hide in the depths of the oceans, though in reality she ducked behind a rainbow.

Passion and Desire situated themselves in the center of a volcano. Forgetfulness…well, I’ve forgotten where he hid, but no matter.

By the time Madness had counted to 999,999, Love was still looking for a hiding place. Every spot seemed to be taken, until she spotted a rosebush. Shaking its branches, she slipped between its flowers.

“One million!” Madness began his search.

He took three steps and found Laziness. Faith, he heard in the Heavens discussing theology with the Gods. Passion and Desire, he felt their rumblings from the volcanoes.

He stumbled upon Envy by accident, and from there, found Triumph. He didn’t have to look at all for Egotism, whose hiding spot turned out to be home to a nest of wasps.

Feeling a bit thirsty from all the walking, Madness neared the lake and discovered Beauty. Doubt was sitting on a nearby fence, unable to make up his mind which side to hide behind.

And so, one by one, Madness found them all: Talent concealed amongst fresh herbs; Anguish in a dark cave; Falsehood behind the rainbow; and Forgetfulness, who had forgotten that they were still playing hide-and-seek.

Only Love remained elusive. Madness scoured under every tree and stream, the summit of every mountain. Just as he was about to give up, he spotted the rosebush.

Taking a rake, he prodded at the branches until he heard a cry of pain. Love had been blinded by the thorns of the rosebush.

Stricken, Madness implored Love for forgiveness and promised to serve as her guide.

Thus, from this first game of hide-and-seek, Love has been blind and always accompanied by Madness.

Don your plastic navy Ray-Bans, courtesy of Pepsi’s promotions department (UV sticker still on, of course).

Make your way to Williamsburg.

Pass a bona fide hipster carrying a stuffed animal narwhal underneath his arm. Slap your forehead for not thinking to do this.

Make your way to Queens for Warm Up at MoMA PS1 aka Hipster Mecca aka My V-Neck Exposes More Chest Hair Than Yours.

Pass bona fide hipsters sitting on bales of hay whilst sipping beer. Snap an artsy photo of the outdoors decor at PS1. Upload to instagram.

Friend tells you people have been studying your back intently. Realize they think the “We Rub You” Korean BBQ stamp you got at Smorgasburg is an esoteric tattoo.

Receive continuous compliments on said “tattoo.” Recognizing that this is likely the high point of your stint as a wannabe hipster, call it a day.

~~

On a more earnest note, there was a neat exhibition at PS1 that involved thematic vignettes typewritten on plain white sheets of paper and taped to the wall in a grid. A few of my favorites:

“Move to the country of B,
keeping on living at the local time of
the country of C.”

“Standing in the middle of Plazo Santo
Domingo, I look up wide-eyed as if
observing something. Once a group of
passers-by intrigued by my gazing has
gathered around me, I leave the scene.”

“Sometimes the working turns into labour
and
Sometimes the labouring turns into work.”

“Upon arriving in … (new city),
pick up a stick,
run it along the architecture and
listen to the music of the city.”

~~

As eyesight goes, mine is pretty horrible. Without glasses or contacts, chances are I wouldn’t recognize my mom if she was standing three feet away. Despite sharing this commonality with bats, I try to go sans seeing aids whenever possible because my eyeballs are so much happier when I do. (So if you’ve ever seen me at the gym, waved, and gotten completely blown off, I’m sorry! You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.)

And it turns out voluntary blindness isn’t all bad.

Have you ever been talking with someone and been thrown off by a facial expression that flickers across the person’s face? The spasm’s source isn’t related to the conversation at hand (maybe they realized they forgot to renew their gym membership), but it causes you to second guess their meaning all the same. Facial cues usually add context rather than detract from it, but regardless, it’s hard to digest content when you’re also trying to decipher five different facial expressions.

And if countenance doesn’t trip you up, other distractions abound: your Blackberry’s blinking red light, people walking by, the TV on in the background…

I’ve realized I’m a better listener, and by consequence a better conversationalist, when I’m looking at the world like Monet must have seen it when he painted Water Lilies. That is to say, mostly blurred forms and smudges of color. Without the visual diversions, more of my awareness falls on what someone’s actually saying and how they’re saying it: their phrasing, speed, inflection, and other elements which can be easy to overlook. I’m less likely to interrupt people or misinterpret their meaning. Communication becomes clearer and more fluid.

It’s like the stories you hear about people who lose one sense and gain heightened sensitivity in another, but obviously I’m fortunate enough to be able to revert back from this temporary state.

Experiment: The next time you’re catching up with an old friend over a cup of coffee, take off your glasses/contacts and let the world blur around the edges for a moment (or if you’re one of those lucky ducks with 20/20 vision, humor me and close your eyes). Is the resulting interaction for the better or worse? The outcome just might surprise you.

So “love” ≈ “rub.”

~~

If you’ve never had Korean BBQ, you might find people’s craze for it hard to understand. A good introduction can be found at sisters Ann and Janet’s stall at Smorgasburg, a flea food market (where have these been the first twenty-one years of my life?) held in Williamsburg every Saturday.

Yoonie and I stumbled across We Rub You a few weekends ago. It was our last stop at the market, and rightfully so, considering by the time we lugged ourselves into line we had already stuffed our faces with sesame noodles, two blueberry blintzes, a chocolate dipped frozen banana, and an ice cream cookie sandwich.

We ordered a spicy pork belly bun to share, which came piled high with kimchi, cucumber, and a perilla chimichurri (green sauce made with an herb from the mint family). While waiting for our food we struck up a conversation with the guy in front of us, James, a fellow Yalie like Yoonie. He also happened to be Ann and Janet’s cousin.

We ended up talking with James for over an hour and found out Ann had just left a ten year stint in banking to work on We Rub You full-time.

Ten years as a banker! She didn’t look a day older than twenty-six. And our pork belly bun was amazing, easily the best thing we tried all day.

~~

Ann Chung Mellman is one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet, hands down. It’s hard to imagine her in the rough and tumble environment of the trading floor, where she spent a previous life managing derivative swaps and other things generally above my head.

Her breadth of knowledge is impressive, yet never in your face. She can weave “herbaceous” into conversation without sounding awkward, comment on prominent architects who designed in the Beaux-Arts style, and describe the chemistry behind why certain flavors complement each other.

Ann and her sister grew up in Dallas, Texas, the oldest pair of six cousins. This afforded them plenty of opportunities to cook for younger family members. As James put it (somewhat ruefully), “Yeah, I never really got into cooking. Everything was usually already made for us.”

The role complemented Ann’s natural affinity for food. “Since we ate mostly Korean cooking at home, I wasn’t exposed to many other cuisines. Whenever I read books and came across a dish I didn’t recognize, I would try and reverse engineer the recipe based on its name. I remember there was this one scene in Anne of Green Gables with split pea soup; the recipe I imagined was nothing like what split pea soup actually is.”

After graduating from Columbia with a degree in engineering, Ann accepted her first job on the trading floor. Though she enjoyed her work, she always felt there would be a finite end to her time in banking. “You give up a lot to be good at anything you do, but finance especially. I wanted more freedom and flexibility.”

She continued pursuing her love of cooking, enrolling in the French Culinary Institute for a year as “a way to stay sane.” With the onset of the recession, Ann felt it was the right time to make a transition. In 2009 she left her position as a senior VP on the Latin America derivatives desk, and spent two years traveling and taking classes at Pratt, the Fashion Institute of Technology, and the City Seminary of New York. Her first stab at being an entrepreneur actually involved textiles, but it never got off the ground, partly due to a lack of industry experience.

“At that point I asked myself what I did know, and I knew that I knew Korean food…someone once told me that men tend to play to their strengths, while women will push themselves to be more well-rounded. Both are valuable, but it often makes a lot of sense to stick to what you’re good at. If you don’t speak Spanish, why force yourself to do something that requires learning Spanish?”

~~

Eventually, Ann and Janet hope to get their line of marinades and sauces onto store shelves and make Korean BBQ accessible to a wider audience.

In the meantime, they’re having a blast at Smorgasburg. Every Tuesday, they make the go/no-go call for the week (it’s a lot of refreshing of weather.com). Ingredient orders are placed shortly after and the team goes to Queens on Friday to do their market shopping. The rest of Friday is spent cooking at a commercial kitchen in the Bronx, and set up starts at 8:00 am on Saturday.

“Our first week was kind of crazy. We were pretty conservative since we didn’t know what to expect, but somehow ended up being really off on our proportions—we had way too much meat and not enough bread. You know the Biblical story where Jesus makes fish and bread multiply? It felt like that. We were like where is all this meat coming from?? We were buying up all the bread we could get a hold of in the neighborhood.”

For Ann, the biggest perk of starting her own venture is “the moment you realize that in your own small way, what you’re doing is actually having an impact on your community.” We Rub You hired its first non-family help a few weeks ago, the son of a friend who swims at the same local pool. “We’re creating jobs!” Ann beams.

“Every photograph stops time. This is the most banal, technical fact about the medium and also the source of its uncanny and remarkably durable power. The relentless momentum of mundane existence is stilled by the shutter, and some of the mysteries implicit in everyday life open up. A moment — of high artifice or raw candor, of posed elegance or composed chaos — is captured and then, later, delivered to our contemplative gaze.”

Full NYT feature here

-Carrie, yoga instructor

Perry strode over a few moments later, compacted frame, hair buzzed on one side, tattoos encircling both biceps. Very motorcycle chic.

Running his fingers through my wet mop, he met my gaze expectantly in the mirror.

“I just need a trim,” I told him. “Like three inches off…”

“Three inches?” He was surprisingly soft-spoken, though there was no mistaking the tone. Like when a parent is about to reject their kid’s request for candy.

“Do you know how long three inches is?” he continued with a chuckle.

“Uh, yeah, like this much?” I gestured around shoulder level.

“At that length your hair will flip out at the ends. If you want short, I would go shorter.” He pointed at a spot right below my ears.

“Really?” I had worn it that short before, but I was about to start work in three days and not inclined to risk being memorable because of my haircut.

“Is your hair permed?”

“No.”

“So it’s naturally wavy like this in the back?”

“Yup.” (Every hairdresser I’ve ever been to comments on this).

“What do you do in the morning to get ready?”

I stared blankly for a few seconds.

“Oh! You mean what do I do with my hair in the morning. Um, nothing really. Run a brush through it and go out the door,” I laughed sheepishly.

“And when’s the last time you had it cut?”

“Uh…”

“So it’s been a while.”

“Yes.”

He continued scrutinizing chunks of my hair.

Unsure of where this left us, I ventured a “Um yeah, so if you could just take a couple of inches off and give me some layers, I think that would be good.”

This request earned me a full-on frown and knitted brow. “Your hair is two different textures, wavy in the back and straight everywhere else.”

“Uh huh.”

“Layering will make it puff out in the back. So will a cut that’s too short. Longer is better for you. I can do small layers in the front, on both sides of the face, if you want.”

The verdict was given with such certainty that I didn’t see much room to argue. Either way, I felt it was a bad idea to force a hair stylist to go with a cut they don’t believe in, especially when they would shortly be wielding a pointy metal object next to your head.

So I let Perry do his thing. He had a deft touch with the scissors, which he held between his thumb and ring finger. He eschewed small talk in favor of complete focus on my hair, which was fine by me.

It was 12:21 by the time he was done and I realized the purpose of the clapperboard clock. I had to hand it to him; the cut looked pretty good. It was a subtle difference, a bit off the bottom and gradual layers in the front, but I could tell it would grow out well with minimal maintenance needed.

“I think if you give it another three or four inches that would be ideal. At that length the weight of the hair will flatten the puffiness in the back.”

I reached up to tuck one side behind my ear. “Unh uh,” he admonished gently. “It looks better untucked.”

The customer is always right, but it was refreshing to see the great pride Perry takes in his work. And I’d rather hear his honest feedback than walk out the door unwittingly channeling an Oompa Loompa.

Nevertheless, TJ employees are still human. On my way out of the store, I saw another cashier enthusiastically greet his next customer. Unfortunately, she was too preoccupied with maneuvering her cart around the bottleneck of other shoppers to pay attention.

You could see the effect right away on the cashier’s face, which dropped visibly. It wasn’t so much that the woman didn’t reciprocate, but the fact that she failed to make eye contact.

Establishing a visual connection in the first few seconds of meeting someone is so critical to maintaining the energy and momentum of the interaction.

It’s like saying “Hey, fellow human being, it’s nice to be in this present moment with you. I think what you have to say is worth listening to,” but with your eyes. So simple yet so powerful.

~~

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who can leave half-finished boxes of Girl Scout cookies lying around for weeks without polishing them off (yes, they exist), and those who cannot. If I bring yummy snacks home, they’re typically gone within a few days, a week if I’m lucky or somehow lose my appetite (which has yet to happen). So my only recourse is to try and avoid the purchase altogether.

But isn’t it such a letdown to come back from the grocery store with only healthy foods? The whole time you’re unpacking your broccoli and baby carrots your self-control is like “Whooo yeah!!!” except no one else is at the party.

The compromise I settled on today was to forego the two pints of mochi ice cream and the pack of Darrell Lea red liquorice I had my eye on, in favor of crossing the street to Financier and picking up a (giant) coconut passion fruit macaron, which I will be enjoying as soon as I finish this post…

If this is news to you, as it was to me, don’t worry. We’ll get there.

But first, a few ground rules.

Given the choice between Frank Lloyd Wright and Prince William, I’m going to choose Will every time (sorry Frank). I realize the royal wedding makes this comparison kind of a moot point, but Prince Harry’s just not the same. And while we’re on the topic of ridiculous “would you rather” scenarios, Mr. Wright passed away in 1959.

So to qualify the original premise, as far as normal earthlings are concerned, architects happen to be ideal husband material.

And yes, husband. Not that an architect wouldn’t also make a great casual fling, but while it’s probably safe to assume anyone you’d consider marrying is (hopefully) someone you’d consider dating, the reverse is not true.

Why all the love towards architects? I think it boils down to an elusive blend of three qualities:

1. They just seem like nice guys.

You know, the not-much-vetting-needed-before-you-bring-them-home-to-meet-your-mom type guy. Nice Guy Johnny type nice.

When was the last time you read anything in the news about an architect laundering money, taking bribes, or cheating while on a business trip?

These are people absorbed in figuring out a foundation’s structural soundness, which window placement lets in the most light, and what the best emergency exit route looks like. Their version of vice probably involves a slightly crooked staircase.

But wait, you protest, no one goes for the nice guys.

I think most girls who pursue known-to-be jerks do so to prove that they can more than anything else. We really would prefer not to wake up next to said jerk for the rest of our lives.

2. An eye for design + the know-how to turn it into a reality = double threat

It’s rare to find someone who unites a creative bent and an ease with numbers and the physical sciences. Most of us would be happy to call ourselves fluent in one or the other, so it’s pretty cool when a person can lay out a conceptual vision for a concert hall in one moment and calculate the maximum stress load of a steel beam in the next.

There’s something else too—people who design and create for a living, who fashion wonderful things out of nothing, tend not to see the world in black and white. It’s an appreciation for subtlety that bodes well for relationships.

3. Mettle, medal, metal (but really just the first one)

I’m not sure what the odds are of making it as a successful architect, but I’m betting they’re pretty low compared to other professions. Come to think of it, when was the last time you met an actual architect?

According to the ever omniscient Google, the process involves seven to eight years of schooling, (at least) three years of in-the-field practice, finding an accredited sponsor, passing the Architect Registration Exam, and mastering the latest computer design programs.

For anyone keeping track, that’s on par with the amount of time needed to become a doctor. Which makes sense. I would hope the people designing the spaces where I fall asleep at night know what they’re doing.

Suffice to say it’s not the type of field you enter without a certain measure of faith in your abilities and a liberal dose of determination and patience.

Faith, determination, and patience. Also known as mettle. Something all enduring relationships have in common.

~~

So what you do if you’re a guy, not already a successful architect, and have no plans to become one in the near future? As I see it, you have two options:

A) Wait until someone publishes the next Fountainhead and hope her version of Howard Roark is a(n) [fill in your profession here];

B) Take heart in the fact that since the math is nowhere close to working out, most of us architect-wife-hopefuls will eventually move on

As of two weeks ago I had never ordered anything from Zappos.com; shoe sizes can vary so widely from brand and brand and with one of my feet half a size bigger than the other, even the promise of free shipping both ways wasn’t enough to tempt me.

But then I encountered my first rainy day in New York, which of course caught me unawares on my way home from work (re: NYC precipitation, as a rule of thumb, the day I take my umbrella out of my purse is the day it will waterfall from the sky).

Realizing I needed rainboots, I decided to give Zappos a shot. I figured out of the universe of footwear, rainboots are pretty accommodating of selection error as they don’t have to fit perfectly to serve their purpose (I had tolerated four years of clunky Target rainboots after all).

So I perused customer reviews and watched videos of Zappos models Amanda and April highlighting the main features of each boot, eventually settling on the Kamik Heidi in black.

Fast forward a few days: They came, they fit, happy Lulu.

Fast forward a few more days: My favorite pair of flip-flops, Turkish Havianas that were a present from a friend’s trip to Brazil, broke. At first I thought my only option would be to order them directly from the Havianas website, so I was glad to find that Zappos also carried them.

Minutes after submitting my order I received this wonderful little email:

Whoa, Nellie! Have We Got A Surprise For You!Hello Lulu!Although you originally ordered Standard Shipping, we’re upgrading the shipping time frame for your order. It will ship out today, so you’ll get it even faster than we originally promised! It’s kind of like we waved our magic wand!Please note that this is being done at no additional cost to you. It’s our way of saying thanks for being our customer.

Your Order Summary

Havaianas: Slim Turkish SKU# 7787586 Color: Black Size:  37/38 (US Women’s 7/8) Width:  M $30.00

We hope this has brightened your day a little! Thanks for shopping at Zappos.com!With Love, The Zappos Customer Loyalty Team

Awesome, right?

When the Havianas arrived, I noticed a line on my receipt that read “Packed with care by: Dwayne P.” A small touch, but it helped me conjure an image of the fulfillment employee who had put together my order. I counted myself a converted customer.

Funnily enough, the topic of Zappos came up during training a few days later. For our final project we had to conduct a valuation of Netflix; one of the analyses we ran looked at the economics of a potential acquisition of Netflix by Amazon.

During the project debriefing, a VP from the Menlo Park office recommended that we watch this video to get a sense for Amazon’s acquisition philosophy. Jeff Bezos’ speech to Zappos employees, whom Amazon had just acquired, is insightful, inspiring, and peppered with amusing anecdotes from the early days of Amazon’s founding.

Near the end of his talk, Bezos hones in on what he sees as the source of the natural compatibility between the two companies: their shared obsession over making sure the customer experience is always improving.

I’ve personally felt the benefits of Zappos’ customer-centric strategy. And above and beyond a business model that delivers convenience, value, and huge product selection, Amazon is well-known for its outstanding customer service.

As just one example of many, a friend of mine once called in to report that she hadn’t received an order of textbooks totaling almost $400. Amazon immediately reshipped the books to her for free even though it turned out the original shipment was simply delayed and ended up arriving two days later.

In the midst of recent attention lavished on tech darlings like LinkedIn and Groupon, it can be easy to forget that large, unaddressed inefficiencies still abound in traditional markets like retail, health care, and energy.

Amazon and Zappos are not flashy businesses. Their success stems from an unrelenting focus on the customer’s perspective that drives every decision, big or small. It’s a cultural philosophy companies of all stripes would be smart to emulate.

Stand up to leave and realize you’ve skipped “uncomfortably full” and crash landed in “disgustingly bloated.”

Nevertheless, continue to eat, swayed by the novelty of a Swedish candy that’s half Warhead half never-ending Gobstopper.

Pass a guy on the sidewalk urinating a small river directly into a phone booth.

Arrive at some necessarily trendy spot in the Meatpacking District, for the birthday get-together of a new friend from work that you kind of invited yourself to. Realize you’re earlier than most of the guests who were actually invited.

Swedish candy has left you incredibly thirsty. Nurse a glass of ice water from the bar, all the while awkwardly rubbing your stomach because you’re still. so. full.

Receive a “Hey whats new” text from a (male) friend from work. Show said text to your friend, feeling flattered and a little taken aback. While formulating a response, receive follow-up text that says “My bad lulu… Wrong person lol”

Figure it’s time to leave and head to another “new friend from work’s” apartment. In attempt to demonstrate how closely you were paying attention during introductions, say “It was great meeting you, Alex” to the guy whose name is Tim.

When you get to the building, discover people are leaving for the birthday party you just came from. The attendant at the front desk calls up to tell the host you’re here. He has to repeat your name twice before there’s recognition.

Make small talk while the host cleans up empty beer bottles. Wander unaccompanied into his bedroom to check out the amazing view. Roommate calls you out on this.

Move back into the living room where you try to figure out if the artwork featuring business execs and buxom secretaries is a joke or not (it is).

Decide to call it a night and head home. Stop in a 7-Eleven so your friend can satisfy a Slurpee craving. This is when you become the victim of your first butt groping.

Whirl around to see that the perpetrator is either a short Latino man or a lesbian with fluorescent yellow hair. Stand speechless while your friend rants on your behalf.

Wonder at the philosophical implications of being (woman)handled. If you’re somehow more ok with being groped by a woman as opposed to a man, is that a double standard?

End your evening waiting thirty minutes for the train in a pool of sweat, dodging cockroaches and the smell of pee. Trip and fall over while running up the stairs to catch the A.