I once had a run-in with a shopkeeper in New York City so I wrote down his license number and began calling the consumer affairs hotline.
The line was busy.
I put the number on speed-dial.
The number was busy for months.
Since their office was only a few blocks away from mine, I decided to pop by. Four employees sat in a room with all the phones off the hook.
I decided to complain about them to their boss. Using a penname, I wrote the following letter:
—
August 14, 1989
Ed Koch, Mayor
Mayor’s Palace
City Hall, New York, 10007
Dear Ed,
Recently I have begun considering establishing a branch of my business within the New York City limits. I am writing to you to get your assurances that if re-elected, you will continue to provide the same positive environment for business growth that has persisted for the last few years.
A business like ours is sensitive to consumer perceptions. Frankly, our main concern about past expansions in your direction has been your reputation for tough consumer protection laws and a complaint enforcement system rigged in the consumer’s favor.
However, on the suggestion of a friend, four months ago I began calling your consumer complaint number (212-577-0111) three to five times a day. I got busy signals every time I called except for twice when the phone was picked up and then disconnected immediately.
During a business trip, I actually stopped by to observe the operation. I was told that there were 10 lines, but the room I was shown only had four people in it. One was on a telephone and the other three were reading magazines, filing nails, and chatting. I called the hot line number from a nearby desk and got a busy signal!
Excellent! This is the kind of environment in which I can thrive. I see the wisdom of your plan. Provide tough laws since this keeps the public off the law-makers’ backs. Establish a hot-line to appease the cranks and complainers. And then don’t answer the phone.
I tried calling your office to congratulate you and ask my question directly, but a secretary told me there was no one who could answer my call. (Of course! I should have thought of that myself!)
I anxiously await your assurances. We are ready to begin our business expansion immediately.
(signed)
P. S. I enclose $2.00 to help pay the return postage and to help with your campaign. If all is okay, there’s more where that came from.
—
Somehow, just by sending this letter to the mayor, I began to feel much better.
When complaining, your goal is to make yourself feel better, not to make the other person feel worse. Humor helps.
After sending the mayor the letter, I felt so much better. The consumer affairs hotline still didn’t pick up their phone but that no longer mattered. I had so much fun thinking up the letter and I was proud of myself.
A few months after I wrote the letter, Ed Koch lost his re-election bid. I hadn’t voted for him. I hadn’t voted for his opponent either. I went into the voting booth, pulled the curtain, and did nothing. I took the time to vote my abstention.
Unexpectedly, at the end of December I received a most lovely belated Christmas present in the form of a letter that I will cherish forever.
—
City of New York
Office of the Mayor
December 28, 1989
Your letter of August 18 was misplaced and only recently made its way to my desk. I was very troubled by what you had to say and apologize for the delay in responding to you.
The consumer hotline was not established as a public gesture with the intention that, in reality, it would not serve the public or investigate its complaints. Though my administration is about to end, I have asked Consumer Affairs Commissioner Angelo Aponte to look into the charges that you raise. I have asked him to take immediate action, where necessary, to make sure that the hotline is fully staffed and responds expeditiously to all complaints. Moreover, I have asked him to make sure that the next administration is aware of any problems with the hotline.
Further, I am returning the two dollars that you sent to me. I am disappointed by your insinuation that personal financial gain would be a motivation for helping you.
If you are sincere in your interest to establish a branch of your business in New York City, our Office of Economic Development (212-NY-MAGIC) and the Office for Business Development (212-513-6400) may be able to assist you, and I encourage you to contact them.
My administration has sought to create a climate in the City where businesses can flourish and at the same time one where the interests of the City’s consumers and residents will be safeguarded. Arbitrating these interests is no simple or enviable task — but I, and members of my staff, have done that on every day of our watch — and in as just and far-sighted a manner as possible.
All the best.
Sincerely,
Edward I. Koch
M A Y O R
—
Wow!
As soon as I received the letter, I called the hotline. They picked up on the first ring. I couldn’t remember what had been my complaint the prior summer so I said, “Just checking,” and hung up. From then on the line was answered immediately every time I called.
When responding to a complaint, think WWED.[1]
[1] “What Would Ed Do”. Ed Koch published a collection of his letters in a book called All the Best: Letters from a Feisty Mayor. The man could write.
You might be amazed to know that you have muscles that don’t get wired up to your brain unless you work at it.
When I was nine we moved to a new house that had a large field that had been used by a farmer to grow hay. Because we wanted to convert it to a lawn we had to remove many large rocks. We piled them behind the barn.
“Ah hah,” my dad said one day, “We can paint the stones white and use them to line the driveway.”
He gave me a can of white paint, a brush, and the mission.
I began by painting one stone behind the barn. Then I carried it to the edge of the driveway. I did this a few times. It was a cumbersome process because the stones were quite heavy. And, it was annoying because the paintbrush kept drying between each use. And, it was messy because I wanted to get done that day so I didn’t wait for the paint to dry before moving each stone. A good deal of paint made its way from the stones to my hands and clothes.
After observing my efforts, my dad took one stone and the can of paint from behind the barn. He placed the unpainted stone beside the driveway and place the can of paint next to it.
I hadn’t seen him do that and it took me quite a while to discover what he had done. Who asked him to do that? Sometimes my dad would play cruel tricks.
After bringing the can and the stone back to the barn I continued to paint the stones and carry them to the driveway Then, for no apparent reason, my dad took a wheelbarrow out of the barn and parked it squarely on the path between the stones to the driveway. Navigating my way around an obstacle placed in my way was even more annoying.
Finally he put the wheelbarrow, inverted, over my pile of stones. I became infuriated. I angrily grabbed it by both handles and flung it a few yards out to the side. What was he trying to do to me?
It was back breaking work and I was exhausted by the time I was finished.
That afternoon my parents had a guest who stayed for dinner. The guest congratulated me on how hard he saw me work. He said I must be very strong.
My dad said, “He was working a lot harder than he needed to. He’s got to learn to use the muscle between his ears.”
That angered me. I wouldn’t have had to do any of it if he hadn’t made me do it.
As I went to sleep I thought about his comment about the muscle between my ears. I knew some of the kids in the school could wiggle their ears. Perhaps that is the muscle he was talking about. It took me a very long time to find that muscle, but eventually I did.
I was so excited and could hardly wait till morning when I would wiggle my ears and tell my dad that I finally figured out what he was talking about.
We had been dating for a year when I began to wonder to myself, “Is this the woman I should marry?”
I started asking everyone I came across, “How does one tell if someone is ‘the right one?’”
A young female squealed, “When you speak baby talk to each other. Isn’t that right daadeee?”
“Goo goo.” He replied.
Yuck.
“When your hearts join as one,” was the simultaneous reply of an old couple on a bus. I was enthralled… until a fight broke out between them. “I was speaking.” “You always interrupt me.” “Oh, shut-up.”
“You’ll just know.” A common but useless answer.
“Chemistry.” Another.
“When you can picture yourselves doing absolutely everything together.” I thought about that. I could even picture it. It wasn’t attractive… surely not everything?
“When you don’t have eyes for any other woman.” Not me. I have eyes for every other woman.
“When you think she is the most beautiful woman in the world.” Nope. I’d rank her an 8.
I asked the most beautiful woman I’d ever met, “Gina, I’m thinking of getting married. How do I know it is the right thing to do?”
She said, “I wish it were me.”
“I didn’t realize marrying you was one of my options.”
“That’s not what I mean. I wish I were the one getting married. I can picture it perfectly… the house… the children… I even know what my kitchen will look like.”
She seemed to be in the advanced stages of something. I asked, “Does your boyfriend share your vision?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
I talked about this to Jack, a friend at work. He said, “It is a mistake to imagine your future with someone.”
“Why?”
“You’ll be disappointed. Besides, you’ll close off the opportunity for lots of adventure.”
I asked, “How did you know your wife was the right one?”
“Lack of imagination. I couldn’t imagine a future without her. That is why I had to marry her.”
On our wedding day I could not have imagined the children we’ve raised, the things we’ve done or the places we’ve been.
But it would have all been unimaginable without Eve.
I have no idea what the future will bring, but I still can’t imagine it without Eve.
Jack was right.
When you can’t imagine a future without a certain person, you have to ensure you have that person in it.
You can leave everything else to chance.
Update: My wife, Eve, and I amicably divorced on May 2, 2024. As I write this, we are both healthy, unattached, and care for each other, but we no longer live under the same roof or have joint property.
Perhaps someday I’ll write a piece called “Time to Get Divorced” but for now let me say that it is unwise to serve someone divorce papers in order to win an argument. Do it only if what you want is a divorce.
My Grandma Anne was a southern belle born and raised in Dallas. Granddad Tom was raised in Chicago and sent from home at 14 to earn has way as a man. They met in New York City.
Anne had entered a beauty contest. In those days (before the bikini) young ladies were judged on poise, grace and intelligence. She won.
First prize: a week in New York. All expenses paid.
At first she was excited. Then it occurred to her that she didn’t know a soul in that Yankee city.
A friend set up a blind date for her first day in the Big Apple. She was to meet him under the big clock above the 42nd street entrance to Grand Central Station.
She leaned against the western wall as she inspected the young man standing across from her.
“Gawd,” she thought to herself, “let it not be him.”
It was.
At first they weren’t attracted to each other but they were both desperately lonely, for Tom had no friends in the city either. What’s more, on Sunday he was to be shipped out to Cuba by the United Press International, his employer.
They spent all of that week together and on Saturday Anne decided not to return to her life in Dallas.
That is how it came to be that my father was born in Havana.
They had picked the path that promised the most adventure.
I began trading in May of 1988. By the summer of 1990 I felt like I was ready for a change. My days were spent in the most exciting, least interesting work imaginable. At least we had some money in the bank.
Your mother and I made a decision. We would change careers.
Eve was accepted into a Ph. D. program in Marketing. I would take a Masters in education so that I might become a sixth grade teacher.
Then something happened…
One afternoon in mid-August at 2:00 PM, my boss swiveled in his chair to face me,
“Brooke, would you like to go to Japan?”
“Do you mean for a business trip?”
“No. I mean to do some work.”
“For a few weeks?”
“Nope,” he smiled, “For a few years.”
I was stunned. “That is a big decision. I have a family now and I wouldn’t spend that much time away from them. We could all move but my wife is starting graduate school.”
My boss nodded, “It is a huge decision. You must think about where the kids will go to school, what you wife will do, where you will live. I’ll tell you another thing; when you return from an overseas assignment you’ll probably have to start your career over again. Be thorough in your deliberations and consider all the alternatives. I’ll respect your decision whatever it might be. No pressure.”
“How soon do you need to know?”
“Oh… Just tell me by five.”
Wow! Three hours to decide.
So I called Eve on the telephone.
“Do you want to go to Japan?”
“Are you inviting me along on a business trip?”
“No. He wants me to go do some work.”
“For a few weeks?”
“No. A couple of years. We would all move to Tokyo.”
She was silent for a few seconds, “Gee. When does he want to know?”
“By five.”
“Well then, I guess we’d better discuss it now.”
We told him we would go within the hour.
If you’re going to pick the path that promises the most adventure, it helps to be married to the right woman.
In 1966 my sister, Ruth, and I spent eight summer weeks in St. Mawes, Cornwall, a sleepy fishing village with a population of perhaps 200 souls. My grandmother had fallen in love with a two bedroom thatched cottage that had been built in 1450 as sleeping quarters for the guards at St. Mawes Castle.
During that summer we had no television, no VCR, no CD player, no iPod, no Internet and no computer games. We didn’t even have a telephone; we used the payphone at the village square. (Eventually they did get a telephone and were assigned the number 414. In the USA we use 414 as the area code for the entire eastern half of Wisconsin.)
My sister and I did find a few books, but mostly we had our grandparents as entertainment.
We spent our days listening to their stories. I’d estimate: 4 hours/day, 5 days/week (assume weekends off), 8 weeks total. That comes to 160 hours of storytelling.
My sister and I were fascinated by their stories, however we were somewhat annoyed. In their presence we felt we had so few interesting things to say.
In that sleepy village, in that ancient house, we heard of how they: had survived three revolutions in Latin America, how they crossed the Andes on mules carrying short-wave radio equipment, and how they were in the Caribbean on a German tramp steamer headed for the Netherlands Antilles on the day the US entered World War II.
I’m scratching the surface here…
At the end of that summer I asked my grandmother, “How do we ever get to have so many stories of our own?”
She said, “Live an interesting life and collect your stories. Do that and when you are our age you will have plenty to say to your grandchildren.”
“But, what do I have to do to have as exciting a life as yours?”
She said:
When you are faced with choices that are the same in all other aspects, choose the path that offers the greatest adventure.
Must we be treated like shareholders in a proxy battle for the management of the largest enterprise on the face of the earth?
Do none of us want our passions stirred for our own good?Is there no leader here who might motivate us with their thoughts on how we might collectively be a nation?
If I were running, I would say:
My fellow Americans,
We once had terrorists and their sympathizers in our midst, yet we did not hire a foreign force to invade Chicago to find the Chicago Seven. We did not inspect every black looking for Black Panthers. And we were able to forgive Patty Hearst for taking up with the wrong crowd. We did pursue those terrorists and we made them ineffective and marginal. When aging 60’s radicals finally came out of hiding they were more the subjects of our pity than our scorn.
Japanese prisoners of war thanked us for saving their lives for they had been the products of an evil indoctrination that advocated suicide over a change of heart. Our goal is for middle aged Muslims to thank us one day for saving them from the evil indoctrination of their youth. Our goal should not be to hunt down and kill every last one of them. I doubt that they will ever thank us for bombing their villages as we looked for evil doers among them. We can deal with terrorists for we have done it before, and hopefully war never need be used to that end.
A nation should not take the decision to go to war lightly, and it is not the equivalent to hiring some professional police to maintain the peace. A nation at war requires complicity from all its citizens in the violation of the Golden Rule as it makes it a national mission to kill other people’s loved ones. If the day ever comes when we need go to war, I shall hold hands with you, kneel, and beg forgiveness for our own failure to find an alternative. In the meantime, I solicit help from every one of you in seeking a better path, and I shall never say that, just because I personally can not think of an alternative, then there are none.
Many of you wish to import American made drugs from Canada because our drug companies sell our drugs cheaper there. As chief executive I intend to vigorously enforce the unjust law that prohibits such importation, and as you leader I encourage all of you to violate that law as an act of civil disobedience. Then collectively we will present ourselves to those drug companies, millions strong, as their own customers who have been criminalized in support of their greed and we will stop them from perpetrating the biggest injustice of all by charging what the market can bear, rather than working for our best health. When we are victorious, I promise to pardon all of you of your crimes. My approach does not require the consent of Congress and the drug lobbyists will be powerless against us.
Our desire to litigate is out of hand, and we all must reassess our relationship with responsibility and risk. A life may be of incalculable value, yet accidents do happen. We do want our doctors to have insurance in case their negligence causes us harm, yet we want them to be able to afford that insurance. The solution to these problems may involve capping awards but it also involves us capping our own expectations and behaviors. If you wish to be reflective, I suggest that you decide if you personally have enough insurance to fairly compensate someone if you cause them harm. I also suggest that if you hate ambulance-chasing lawyers who advertise on TV then you tie up their toll free numbers with your opinions of them.
We do have a health care crisis in this country, and part of the problem is that we are becoming increasingly unhealthy because of the choices we are making. As your President, I intend to protect your investment in me by exercising every day. I ask C-SPAN to cover it live. If your President can find time to keep fit, so can you. Won’t you join me?
I am pro business, and it has been said that the business of America is business. But when it comes to your relationship with your government I do not want you to think of yourselves as shareholders of a corporation entitled to benefits without liability, and voters in an occasional proxy fight for a change in management. I want you to think of yourselves as partners in an endeavor sharing not only the benefits but also the effort and the responsibilities. I want you to wisely identify leaders in your midst.
God has blessed America and I hope we can act in a way to justify his continued blessing. Like many of you, I am not even sure I believe in God, but I say these words because they best express a feeling in my heart.
As I write these words, I cannot help but cry. As I listen to our presidential candidates, I cannot help but cry out.
Note: This was originally posted on October 9, 2004 under the title A Friend Writes on Baristanet.com.
What appears below are the comments as they appeared following the original piece.
This offer was superseded by another offering a more reflective quieter one. I have kept this post and moved it way down in date order merely as a matter of record.
Can you survive seven days with only slow-speed internet access? Do you like hearing people’s stories? Are you up for adventure?
If so, then perhaps you’d care to join me on crossing the Atlantic from NY to the UK on July 21-28, 2023. Alternatively, you might join me returning from the UK to NY on September 4-11, 2023.
We’ll share a cabin and I’ll cover the cost of your ticket, port charges, taxes, and tips. Since the crossing by ship is only one direction, I’ll also give you a stipend to cover your airfare for the trip in the other direction along with a hotel the night before sailing.*
In return, I ask you to help me collect stories from other passengers.
How to have an adventure
At age 13, I spent an entire summer with my grandparents listening to their stories of adventure from all over the world.
“How do I live a life of adventure,” I asked my grandparents at the end of our time together.
“It’s easy,” she replied. “When you have a choice, choose adventure. The problem is that most people have no idea what adventure is. They think it is the thing that promises the most excitement, like an amusement park. That’s wrong. Adventure is where you have no idea what is going to happen next.”
My son, Davis, and my grandmother, Ann.
“Your job,” she continued, “is to have stories for your grandchildren. And remember: the worse it gets, the better the story.”
With those few words, my grandmother gave my a goal for my life, a formula for success, and she inoculated me against despair. Whenever I wander down an unfamiliar road and something unexpected comes at me, I ask myself, “Now what?” And, when things go to hell, while my peers were freaking out, I say to myself, “This will make for an awesome story someday.”
Collecting stories on the QM2
The Queen Mary 2 is an ocean liner unlike any cruise ship in that it is built for long sea voyages. Among other things, it has a library with 10,000 books, it offers interesting lectures by experts, and it boasts a fully functioning planetarium.
I’ve crossed the Atlantic on the QM2 twice and I can tell you that the passengers on board are unlike most on normal cruises. All of them have interesting stories and some are even famous. During seven days at sea together, and without life’s normal distractions, it is very easy to meet people and collect their stories.
For example, I was working out in the gym when I spotted a guy covered in tattoos. I asked if any of his tats had stories and he said they all did. For about 15 minutes he explained each one. When he was done, he said he had to get ready for dinner.
A middle-aged man had been watching us and he approached me afterward.
“I am the drummer in the ship’s band,” the man said to me, “and that fellow is in my opinion the best drummer who has ever lived. I have been stalking him since he boarded trying trying up the courage to introduce myself. I can’t believe you just walked up to him and asked him about his tats.”
If you join me, we will wear T Shirts inviting fellow cruisers to tell us stories of the kind you’d tell a child, a grandchild, or a student of life.
We’ll record these stories and we will publish the best either anonymously, or – if we are granted permission – we will identify the storyteller by name or with a photograph.
Some of the stories will go on my website HumansOnCruises.com. Others might go into a book I’m developing called Stories for Grandchildren. You will get credit for your participation.
The best stories answer a question
The best way to answer a question is with a story. Consider my story about asking my grandmother, “How can I live a life of adventure?”
Over the last decade I’ve been working on a tool to help create a robust philosophy of life so you can live by design rather than by default. It consists of a deck of playing cards with questions you ask yourself, and for any group of people to ask themselves.
On the ship I’ll give you a deck of the cards that you can use to help the people you meet think of stories.
Here are some examples of the cards.
The Aces introduce the four major areas of exploration: The Self, Other People, The Word, and Work. The Kings concern the virtues: Honesty, Accountability, Growth, and Integrity. The Jokers deal with Mortality and Purpose.
The other cards explore important topics, such as: Gratitude, Generosity, Fairness, Wealth, Motivation, Family, Friends, Community, Love, Judgment, Leadership, Followership, Personal Narrative, and so on.
Do you want to join me?
If you would like to join me on one of these crossings, please tell me about yourself and why you’d like to help.
* SOME THOUGHTS: You’ll need to arrive at the departure city at least one day before sailing, i.e. July 20th in NYC and September 3rd in Southampton. I will cover the cost of a hotel room the night before the sailing. I will also give you $500 to cover the cost of return airfare. You will be responsible for booking your own airfare and you are welcome to extend the trip to include additional travel if you want. On the QM2, your fare will cover all the included food but not soda, alcoholic drinks, premium restaurants or anything else that incurs additional charges. You will need to give Cunard a credit card on check-in and I will reimburse you for tips that will be charged to your card but you will be responsible for any additional purchases you make on board. There is slow-speed internet access on the QM2 which is sufficient for checking email and light social media but not for streaming. You must be at least 21 to travel with us.
My Grandma Anne was a southern belle born and raised in Dallas. Granddad Tom was raised in Chicago and sent from home at 14 to earn has way as a man. They met in New York City.
Brooke Allen 