Spending a rather large portion of my work time at the Brooklyn office as of late. By the way; time that I am thoroughly NOT enjoying. It's not that I don't love Brooklyn. I do. Certain parts.
Parts that I appreciate: My Dad's neighborhood in Sheepshead Bay, Coney Island and the rickety wooden roller coasters that give you whiplash, L&B spumoni Gardens, Rollin Roaster, Marine Park, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge and actually READING all the plaques and signs, the little old Italian dive coffees shops where little old Italians drink coffee and argue, All the songs from Really Rosie that pop into my head when I am in Brooklyn, and last but not least being a little kid at my Grandmother's kitchen table and being reminded of what Brooklyn really is served with homemade ziti with LOTS and LOTS of sauce.
But the part they have me working in, is the part that I loathe. In less than one week's time I have witnessed a crack deal less then a foot from me, got heckled by a Spanish women who said something nasty about my pants, and watched a cop in the subway end an argument with a man and his obviously high-as-a-kite wife by cuffing and hog-tying him in less than 2 seconds flat.
My company, my BAG-A-ZILLION dollar company, bought property and space or rented or what ever in the WORST freaking neighborhood in this area of Brooklyn. Don't even try to tell me that I am safe or that I should feel safe because you've posted a company security guard every 1/2 a block around the perimeter of the office. Please, I saw that girl security guard yesterday, are you kidding! I COULD TAKE HER! Like this chick is going to stop a crime against me. Ah, no.
How I long for an office in Midtown.