Tales of the City

The guy on the top floor of our building is renovating his apartment, as in gut renovation. So when we opened the door this morning to go out to start the day, the hallway and the stairs were covered in plastic, and the plastic was covered with plaster dust, and a row of silent Mexican men were sitting on the steps waiting for something to happen. I said, "Hey," and they said nothing. I said, "Demasiado trabajo!" and they said, "yes, good morning."

Later, at the gym, a guy working out next to the bench where I was doing a back exercise said to his trainer, "Very rich people always serve plain food because it makes them feel like common people. I hate it when I go to the Lauders and they have meatloaf."

Let's see: probably-illegal immigrants dusted with old plaster, sitting on the dim stairs, and meatloaf at the home of one of the richest men in the world?

And although it bears no clear relationship to economics, I can't resist reporting one more overheard line, from a construction worker out on the street below my window, who shouted to somebody, sort of affectionately, "Hey, my shadow's better looking than you."