Ruthless Advice for Upper West Siders: All of the Answers With None of the Expertise

By Cynthia Kaplan & Karen Bergreen

By the time you read this, we’ll be less than one Scaramucci from the election. Do you have a voting plan? Do you have any plans at all? Make some plans! Go to your favorite Upper West Side restaurant! Shop until you drop! Spend like there’s no tomorrow, just in case there isn’t one! And send us your questions. Just because we’re at the brink, country-wise, doesn’t mean your petty concerns don’t interest us!

Dear Ruthless,

If I’m in a food takeout/pickup place and I have actually come into the store to order, is it OK to speak up if they are making me wait a long time because they are too busy fulfilling online orders?  I mean, I actually bothered to come to the store, shouldn’t my order be the priority?

Signed,

First in Line

Dear First in Line,

KAREN: While I applaud you for showing up at the restaurant, I can assure you they don’t care.  I suggest you order online or you bring a good book.

CINDY: My mother-in-law, the one who gave me the sparkly white beret, always says, “Don’t ask, don’t get.” I think you can politely mention your place in the order of things at the restaurant. And in life.

Dear Ruthless,

As director of a relatively new independent choir designed to be accessible to everyone (it’s called Everybody Sing), it is incumbent upon me to equalize the forces between treble voices, namely women, and lower voices, sung usually by men. My only tenor happens to be female; and some males, you know, sing soprano, but never mind about that. At the moment I have about 14 women and two men. Do you have any advice about where I might find a couple of additional gentlemen?

Searchingly Yours,

Rick Whitaker, Director

everybodysingnyc.com

Dear Director Rick,

CINDY: Hopefully your letter to us will inspire local singers of the male or deep-voiced variety to come forward! I would also consider stopping by a mix of Upper West Side sports bars, gay bars, and retirement communities. Oh, and fire stations, where I’d be happy to assist with recruitment.

KAREN: There’s a shortage of men in NYC, that’s just a fact. Ask any middle-aged divorcee.

Dear Ruthless,

Why do I always feel slightly guilty when I don’t buy snacks from the ladies in the subway wearing babies? Should I?

Signed,

Guilty Non-Snacker

Dear Guilty,

KAREN:  It’s easy to feel guilt in this city at every turn. And unless you have endless money, you can’t give to every single person or organization. I try to donate to charities that mean something to me and every now and then I will give to a person or a family on the street or train that tugs at my heartstrings.

CINDY: I think if you can get some peanut butter M&M’s or a Milky Way and help a baby at the same time, you should do it.

Dear Ruthless,

My brother’s wife is a major hypochondriac. We have to accommodate her every “illness” at family get-togethers, including some kind of “must eat early” thing.  Some years ago, she suddenly proclaimed she was allergic to pepper. Not peppers, PEPPER. And not just allergic: “deathly” allergic. Now, every family celebration is organized around her many restrictions. Please know that if I thought her allergy was a real thing, I would be very sympathetic. But she conveniently forgets about it when she eats a slice of pizza or generously helps herself to bottled salad dressing. This year I’m in charge of Thanksgiving. Do I have to keep up the charade?

Signed,

Deeply Annoyed

Dear Annoyed,

KAREN: I’m going to assume that your assessment of your sister-in-law’s manufactured allergy is spot on and that you are well aware of the breadth of deadly and scary allergies in today’s population. That said, there are people out there who confuse the term “allergic to” with “distaste for.” We all have this person in our lives and I am so sorry that you have to have one at your Thanksgiving table. I suggest you cook the Thanksgiving you want to cook. If her allergy is real, you can eat as late as you like going forward.

CINDY: Do you remember the children’s book, Bread and Jam for Frances? It is about a hedgehog named Frances who decides she will only eat bread and jam. So her mother gives it to her at every meal, in her lunchbox, and at snack time. Eventually, Frances gets very tired of missing out on yummy spaghetti and meatballs, pickles and poached eggs and such. I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I think there is something here for you to work with.

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