Tuesday, May 13, 2008
"I volunteered downtown for a few weeks right afterwards with a group of actors. They put me in a coffee shop. Most of the people were doing it as a social outing, a way to get publicity, a way to make themselves important. There was a lot of talking on the cell phone. There were a lot of propositions. A 21-year-old national guardsman proposed to me.
"It was there where I started to hate cops and firemen. The cops in the middle of the night were kind and friendly and appreciated the coffee and the food and the company. We all shared being freaked out together. But come daybreak? A bunch of fat cops throwing our food around because it wasn't good enough -- we didn't have skim milk for coffee, or it wasn't the right kind of bread.
"I'm sure some people treat service people that way, but it was beyond my comprehension -- especially while they talked, not quietly, about retiring because they were making so much overtime and their pensions were based on their previous year's earnings. All while we stood out there all night for free making them hot coffee and soup.
"And really, what's all this shit about the fireman being heroes? That's their job, to be heroes. That's why they signed up. Once a month you go run into a burning building and grab a cat and the rest of the time you sit in the firehouse and play cards.
"I used to think all firemen were hot. I now think they are slimy. At least four times last October I was in a bar where a fireman was so forward and sleazy, saying things like 'It's been so hard. You can't believe it' while pawing me. I'm sure his buddy who died running into a building on fire would feel vindicated by this slimeball getting laid, but I'm not going to participate." -- Anne, 31, an advertising sales manager in New York
"I hated the New York Times profiles of all the deceased. It's just that everyone they wrote about -- all 2,000 people -- were depicted as really nice, really devoted parents who came home every night at 5 p.m. to make dinner, play with the kids, never missed a soccer game, and proposed to their girlfriend in a really sweet, creative way. I would read these profiles every day and think, yeah right. Was everyone in the WTC a super amazing person? Someone who worked there must have been an asshole." -- Female reporter at a major business magazine
"'Throw him/her in the rubble,' became the standard response to annoying people for months to follow. Easily the worst [reaction], though, was the dramatic reenactment performed by me and two of my friends a couple of days after the attacks, but you'd kinda have to see it to believe it. Suffice it to say, when my two friends, playing the towers, were hit and collapsed, I stayed on my knees flapping my arms: Yep, Building 7 on fire. Pretty shameful." -- New York book editor, 29
"Since I tend to be self-referential, I read [the New York Times'] 'Portraits of Grief' -- at least the early ones, the ones in September and October, when there were more details about the deaths -- as object lessons in why one should never aspire to be a model employee. So here's what I learned and took to heart:
"* Come in late -- and never come in early just to make up the time if you have to leave early. (Several people died this way.)
"* Run errands on company time -- preferably in the morning. (See above: That's what saved some workers.)
"* Never come back a day early from vacation so you can take a day off in the future. (The way one mom did: She came back so she could be off for Halloween. It would have been better for her to call in sick on the 31st.)
"* After you give notice, never tell your boss you'll stick around until they find someone (as the pastry chef for Windows on the World did). -- A 46-year-old magazine editor in New York
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