An interesting thing happened today. In my prelunch carb crave, I was reading an article in Buisinessweek about young American entrepreneurs. Most had very interesting stories, and more importantly interesting ideas. following my five minute info fix, I put on my coat and made my way for lunch. I work near Columbus circle, so there is a large selection of mediocre food at my disposal. I usually fire up a smoke, pick a direction, and head into the first place I see as my smoke nears its end. With only four directions to choose from on this marvelous grid we call New York, I inevitably frequent the same four establishments. My trek today led me west landing upon good ole Subway, “made pretty fresh.” As I walked in I was confronted with a big smile and an offer for a FREE COOKIE! My lucky day. Though the company sponsoring this program was none other than Mobo and their GoMobo guerrilla marketing team. Now if you don’t know, Mobo is a place where you can “order food on the go.” You sign up, save your favorite orders, text in your order, and skip the line to get your chow quick. Genius. You still get yourself out of the office, fresh air, and exercise without having to stand behind “annoying cell phone talker” who has to ask the person on the other end what kind of bread she should get. Here’s to the future. Well done Noah.

As she sleekly glides towards you with an apathetic glare, cheeks painstakingly sucked in and hair tussled in a way that still preserves a sense of elegance, the tray of drinks held in her left hand reminds you that this indeed is one of New York’s most fabulous conundrums: The Humble Waitress is a Dying Breed. You thank her most politely, and she, in turn…smirks.

You shan’t be defeated. You’re enjoying your meal, enjoying your company, and enjoying your life as a 20-something year old girl in New York, so you try to share your buoyant, yet appropriately restrained, exuberance with your waitress. Perhaps she is simply having a difficult night. Being that your silliness is generally contagious and thus appreciated, so comes forth the second attempt, “Might you leave the water bottle on the table? I’ll suffer more being that I’ll have to wake up to pee roughly 4 times tonight, but it’ll save you the pain of having to refill my glass like every 15 minutes… unless, of course you especially enjoy our company, in which case, you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner!”. It wasn’t meant to be the most amusing comment ever, but said merely to get what I wanted while also being empathetic to her situation. I was once a waitress myself, after all!

You guessed it…no smirk this time around. “Do you know what you would like from the menu” is about all I got, alongside a look that seemed 50% perplexed and 50% disgusted by the comment which referenced my bladder. Oh well. You can’t win them all, and I’m not saying that waitressing is a less reputable job than any other random job, but people, please have some perspective.

Well, I prefer people with a sense of humor about themselves, but I still left a 20% tip. – K.B. (contributing editor)

The Upper East side destination for many a hungry retiree has decided to freshen its clientele. A hot spot among Tommy Bahama and Old English crowd, the Park Avenue Cafe, has recently launched a genius ploy to target gen X’ers by initiating a 3 course Prix Fixe menu selection that costs less than the cab ride from the East Villiage. Aside from the food being top notch (I brought my girlfriend for a “classy” meal) the only draw back is after you place your order and the waiter asks to see your ID. We were seated in the back of the restaurant last Saturday night with the rest of the bargain hunters. The entrance of couple after couple, whom nervously gazed around at the rest of us “dining” wondering if the deal they heard about was actually true, all the while acting as if they aren’t as cheap as the rest of us.