Sometimes what the The New York Times reports on makes me want to remove my eyeballs, roll them, then put them back into my head. And then sigh. I’m a former New Yorker and I still feel this way. Maybe it’s because I once lived among that crowd, the one that’s willing to pay $2,700 for a studio apartment with one window, the one that will wait for two hours to get a 10PM table at a hot restaurant, the one that will step gingerly around hulking bags of garbage on city sidewalks—all because it’s New York. Or maybe it’s because reading the paper can be obnoxious, like when I found out about this:
Apparently there is a new company in New York offering their services as a nanny consultancy. That’s right. First you hire the nanny, THEN you hire these guys to consult that nanny on how to cook cool ethnic fare for your picky eaters. Just in case yours is like the nanny mentioned in the piece and “doesn’t know the difference between quinoa and couscous.” Silly nannies.