Poor in New York: How to Make A Hardboiled Egg

Beep beep beep. Good morning New York! You are awake! You are ready to take on the day! You have personality and excitement and you have…

No. Food.
Dangit.

While a bohemian lifestyle is often celebrated, the practicality of running on high energy levels around the city with a bum breakfast is zero to none. Eating half a piece of bread while downing a cup of coffee only gives me the shakes, and I usually don’t have milk in the fridge for a bowl (or mug) of cereal. So what’s a commuter to do? 

Here’s the basic trick to survival: plan ahead, my weary ones. Listed below are some examples of my favorite shortcut meals.

1) A bagel or ½ bagel is the epitome of a complex carb. Use this meal when you expect to be doing intern errands or running around the city. Prep time is about a minute, and the cost is low. Add peanut butter over a raisin bagel for an extra iron boost. Saver secret: If you love yourself some real, Brooklyn bagels – buy a dozen and freeze them. The bread will last for much longer and you’ll safe money in the long run.
2) Trail mix. ‘Nuff said. I also like the summery combination of fruit and a Yogurt Nutri-Grain bar. Why Nutri-Grain you ask? They have a decent amount of iron (which will keep your energy high) and they’re always on a 2 for 1 sale at C-Town.
3) My brilliant roommate Anna taught me this little time-saver for morning meals. So you want something a little more filling, but cooking and cleaning the pan come AM time just doesn’t happen. Not to fear! The incredible edible hard-boiled egg is here.

On Sunday night, grab a small pot. Place 3 to 4 eggs in the pot and then fill it with water until the eggs are fully covered and sitting about an inch deep. Next, place the pot on the stove, throw in a dash of salt, and begin to boil the eggs. (For all you non-cookers out there, that means put the stove on HIGH.)
Once the water is at a full boil, remove the pot from the heat and set it on an unused burner (aka not in direct heat). The general consensus is eggs should rest in the hot water for 13-15 minutes. If the yolk is green when you eat the egg, it isn’t bad but just slightly overcooked.

Now wrap those suckers up and put them in the fridge. Come Monday morning, you’ll have a filling, protein-packed meal and all you’ll need to do is crack ‘em open. The salt you used when boiling your water should help when peeling off the shells.

Eat the eggs straight for a refreshing, chilled meal. Or if you prefer them warm, set the eggs in a bowl and mash them up with a bit of butter, salt, and pepper. Stick in the microwave for 20-30 seconds and voila!


You are now a hardboiled egg master. I dub thee poor, yet happy... and full.

Poor in New York: Under Five Dollars

Let's face it: New York is freaking expensive. Luckily, deals are hiding within each neighborhood and alleyway. My first year in the city was rife with experience, and searching for savings has quickly become routine. Turns out being "poor in New York" is far from impossible.

For "The Student:" Grocery List
1) Pasta, sauce, and cheese is about $5 for a meal that will keep on giving.
2) A bag of apples and a few bananas combined should be $3-4.
3) A crate of eggs and three potatoes should be between $4-5.
4) PBJ sandwiches. Duh. And get creative by adding honey or bananas.
5) Sushi from a deli is usually between $4-5. A bag of edamame is even cheaper.

For "The Twenty-Something:" Drinks
1) Dounkin Donuts coffee is the better deal, but you can still get Starbucks signature brew “Pike Place” without going over $2.
2) By now you should know: PBR at Welcome to the Johnsons is $3, Crocodile Lounge’s happy hour is 12pm till 7pm, which mean you get Yuengling and free pizza for $3, and everything at Rudy’s is cheap.
3) McSorley’s Old Ale House only serves two drinks:
“dark or light.” And it’s all $5.
4) Bloomingdale’s signature restaurant, 40 Carrots, serves a creamy
Raspberry Cloud Smoothie for $5.
5) Trader Joe’s Wine Shop will not disappoint. Look out for Three Buck Chuck.

For "The Foodie:" Restaurants
1) A Brooklyn Bagel with plain cream cheese and small coffee hovers right around the $5 mark. And they are the best bagels in town.
2) Jin is a Japanese restaurant in the Lower East Side with a $3 happy hour menu where everything is – you guessed it – three bucks.
That includes sushi, sides, and drinks.
3) Prosperity Dumpling has food on the menu for as cheap as $1. Get 4-5 dumplings and a drink for under $2.
4) 2 Bros Pizza has a $1 a slice deal, and if you really want to splurge, they offer two slices and a soda for $2.75. Hey big spender!
5) You can usually get a gyro or falafel on the side of the road for about $5, but its best to ask the price, particularly in midtown.

I recently got hooked on Gnocchi in my uber Greek neighborhood. $1.69 for the pasta (made from potato), and then add some butter and
cheese for a delicious dinner.

Resignation Letter

Dear XXXX,

My time at Bloomingdales began a short while ago, back in August of 2010. I was new to the city, fresh from Virginia, and lacking any sort of product knowledge or selling experience. Still (amazingly enough) you and XXXX hired me to join the Bloomingdales ready-to-wear team. Did you know that, in fact, when XXXX told me I’d be working in women’s sportswear I thought I’d being selling Nike pants?

Ops.

Throughout the year, I made a few mistake – and S. can testify to that. Yes I might have left a sensor on or forgot to cut off an RFID tag, but generally I learned the ropes. Ask a customer if someone was helping them, set up fitting rooms in French Connection but forget about it on Saturdays in Aqua, smile even when taking back a fraudulent return and then secretly call Loss Prevention from another counter... especially when Burberry is inquired about. Open cards, understand the sales, call your clients - these things I learned. And I can really thank L. and S. for their patience, particularly during my first few months.

I also believe I can appreciate customer service at its basic level; it’s no secret and really quite obvious. The way to please an individual (and when I say individual I’m discussing the normal, civil customer) is through the simple practice of treating someone like a human being. The golden rule could not be applied in a better atmosphere, though many will not treat you with the respect deserved. I suppose I have high standards for my friends (and maybe I’m idealistic about humanity in general) but no matter how often respect fell short from either a customer or an employee, there were also these epic moments where people were just being kind to other people.

And that is certainly something to take note of.

But as the seasons went on, and Christmas returns brutally damaged my checks, I grew antsy to accomplish what I had come up here to do: Observe. Edit. Write. Create.

By April I was burnt out and physically exhausted from my 5 hour-a-night sleeping regime. So during the month of July, when I saw a post for a freelance Editorial Assistant position, I jumped at the opportunity. This is want I wanted – this was why I came to New York City.

Thus, I regret to inform you I must put in my formal two weeks notice. I will not forget the Third Floor Book Club, or the time a crazy woman spit over the balcony. I will not forget the people I worked with, or the opportunity I was given. I will not forget the evil woman who yelled at me over the phone, and then after getting what she wanted, telling me I should be promoted to manager. Most importantly, I will not forget being your “Prim.”

Maybe I’ll come back to Bloomingdales after this opportunity. Maybe the economy will have tanked yet again. I’m not sure. I don’t know what the next day will bring, much less the next few months.

But within that insecurity? That is exactly where I thrive. This is exactly where I want to be.

Thank you again for everything XXXX.
We will certainly stay in touch,

Britney Fitzgerald
July, 20th 2011

**Editor's Note: This is a copy of my resignation letter to Bloomies. Some names have been omitted for anonymity.**

Tips for Magazine Interns to Know

I’ve had a few questions recently (and I love questions, so thank you!) about what I wish I’d known before becoming an intern, particularly within the magazine industry.

So here’s a little list for you hardworking, word-loving-go-getters. The quoted statements in yellow were my confused thoughts during the early days of my internship, while the text that follows each statement explains what I learned.

1) “People always be talking ‘bout them heds and deks.”

Heds and deks (aka Heads and Decks) are the same as “headlines” and “subheads.” The hed is obviously the title of the story. The dek is a blurb or tease that makes someone want to continue reading an article. You may also see some publications call the first sentence of a story the “lede” (aka the Lead sentence).

2) “What in the world is a “deskside” and why am I sitting in on one?”

Typically PR companies are happy to pitch stories and products to your magazine, based on the type of publication. For example, at Parents Magazine we have tons of baby toys come through our doors. If an editor asks you to “cover a deskside” for them, they are asking you to listen in on a PR pitch. These sometimes take place right at your desk (ahh… the name…) but can also occur in meeting spaces or conference rooms throughout your office. Grab a pen, takes notes, and ask a question or two – that’s all you’re expected to do.

3) “Why are the prices TK and the editors TK and the dates TK?”

When looking over layouts still in progress, chances are you’ll find a few “TK’s” throughout the page. This is the intentional misspelling of “to come” as in “more information to come.” Most likely, parts of the story are still missing or haven’t happened yet. Many believe that TK looks odd and is easier to spot than the words “to come” which could easily be a phrase within an article.

I’ll try and update this post when I think of more terms or instances of confusion If you have any questions, feel free to email me at: thewhyblogger (at) gmail.com or comment below!

And now I’m going back to work…

Flappers & Foreshadowing: A Glimpse of Coney Island

The train lurched into the station with a final exhale of steam. As the doors slid open, tourist and locals spilled from the cramped subway cars onto a semi-deserted platform. People immediately ran for the exits, clogging stairwells and blocking off ramps with strollers, beach bags, and any other number of important summer items.

July 4th at Coney Island.

Ivy and I wriggled between slowly paced families, dodging umbrellas along the way. We wanted to see that glorious sun… and the hot dog-eating contest, of course.

We found a spot close to the stage and waited for about 40 minutes before any real festivities began. Soon enough, contestants were called up and introduced to the audience as a man shouted some of their disgusting past feats. Once prompted, the food cramming commenced as hot dog were thrown into water – bun and all – then gulped down.

The site of drippy bread as it was flung onto the faces of men and women was… less than appetizing. But the experience was certainly memorable and even a bit exciting as contenders’ boards were flipped for each dog consumed.

After winners were announced, we swiveled away from the hubbub surrounding Nathan’s food stand and opted for an exploration of Coney Island before returning to Manhattan.

The culture of this place has always intrigued me.


There’s something dark and gritty about Coney Island’s atmosphere, only slightly masked by the florescent layers of chipping paint from years gone by. A menacing clown-like face with a Cheshire cat smile grins down on patrons of the park and odd carousel music beats eerily in the background.

But in the background….

Far, far away - in that place between background noise and a dream – you can hear the chuckle of a woman. She dons a white 1920s style hat that drapes around her face. It clashes beautifully with her dark hair and dark eyes, accentuated by more makeup than her mother would allow. She’s young and has a charming face, soft and sharp in all the right places.

Strolling to her side is a dapper man, well known in New York’s more elite circles. He’s a handsome fellow, for sure, though some might say his eyes were too shrewd – a trait surely inherited from his father. His thin mustache makes him look more like a businessman, while a stylish straw hat tilted to the left suggested otherwise.

She laughs and smiles, nearly prancing with joy down Shore Avenue. He gives her a small grin and grabs her hand tightly… maybe too tightly. The sea breeze rustles her skirts and she laughs once more, glancing at his face. But even when shielding her vision from the sun, she can’t quite make out his eyes. She can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. She doesn’t quite know if…

WHAM.

“Sorry! Sorry.” I say twice, as if that makes it any better. Bumping into people in New York is pretty constant, but running smack into someone’s back is downright embarrassing - particularly when I'm just lost in my own mind.

I gave my surroundings one more futile glance, longing to perhaps witness two imaginary characters walking arm-in-arm… Or maybe my flapper had escaped the questionable dandy? But no, instead I saw Ivy talking on the phone near a hot dog stand.

An eerie feeling descended on me and despite the heat, I felt goose bumps rise up my arms in movie-like fashion. Coney Island is an enjoyable place to visit with fascinating history and certainly a story to be told...

But I could never quite shake the feeling that something terrible had happened on those carnival grounds. Or maybe the truly tragic situation is that this amusement park is no longer amusing to most, and already forgotten by everyone else. Housing projects surround the area, and I couldn’t get disturbing scenes from “Requiem for a Dream” out of my head.

The carousel music still plays in the background, but no one – imaginary or real – is riding a single painted horse.

Baby Steps in High Heels

I woke up early, wanting to prepare myself. Leaving my apartment in a rush is one thing. Leaving my apartment in rush today? That just wasn’t a smart idea.

Grand Central Station was buzzing at 9:10 as my 7 Train neared the platform. I was twenty minutes ahead of schedule, and had almost an hour before my actual interview.

Good. This was the plan.

Being perpetually early to interviews is my coping mechanism for nerves, and I’ve come to accept that fact. Does anyone remember when I interviewed for Martha Stewart? I sat for thirty minutes in the frozen air, too early to go inside but too late to grab a coffee 4 blocks up. At least here I already have a desk…

Click click up the escalator. Clip clop up the stairs. Dodge a heavy woman in heels, two steps to the left to avoid the man with a bag. “Extra, extra” and we’re on the street. Beep beep; the orange hand says “stop.” A whistle tells me to go – but I’m already going.

One last buzz, and I’m in the building. With a polite “ding” I’m on the 10th floor. After two “hellos” I’m at my desk. And now it’s truly time to focus…
I want this.
I really want this.

The next two hours are a blur of questions and smiles. I had printed out my resume, updated my cover letter, and dragged the good ol’ portfolio from home. I explained my thesis and discussed iPad technology with some of the top editors at Parents Magazine.

An Editorial Assistant job was opening for a 6 to 7 month period. Sure it wasn’t stable – but everyone needs a little risk! Yes, I’ll be looking for the next job in about 5 months – and probably blogging about it too.

Let me explain why the job is so appealing:

First, I already work here. It would be a seamless transition, with a slight change in daily tasks. Second, it easier to look for the next EA job when you’re already an EA. Instead of saying “Oh I interned here...” I can confidently go to an interview and pronounce I worked at a national magazine.

And finally…

I would actually be getting paid to do what I love. No one has ever paid me to write or work within the literary and publishing worlds.

But now they will.
Because I got the job.


Big girl shoes for big girl interviews.

After work, I celebrated with my friend Maurene, who coincidentally just made Harvard Law Review. Dang! How she's that smart and still capable of holding regular conversation is beyond me. Let just say, July 18th was a fabulous day.

So we toasted Champagne in a fancy Soho hotel, decorated with breath-taking crystal chandeliers. And we both ordered the fish. And we both smiled.

Yes, we both smiled a lot.