The Myth of the New York Minute

Whenever I hear the term, "faster than a New York minute" I remember Kathy. Kathy my old friend from my former life in Australia. Kathy the young mother who phoned me one day in tears.

"Peter offered to cook Jamie's breakfast," she wailed. "He asked what he should cook and I said a three minute egg." "So???" I replied. "Well it took him 40 bloody minutes", she yelled down the phone.

After I explained - after all I'd had more experience of domestic bliss than this young mother - that men just can't throw a meal together, be it a three minute egg or beef olives; that they actually measure the ingredients and will even look up a recipe book for something as simple as a fruit salad - or come to it, for a three minute egg - she calmed down.

It was just one more wifely duty to be contended with. Before she hung up, I had the foresight to add - "Don't forget to thank him - or there'll be hell to pay. Whatever you do, never criticize an Australian male".

Yes I am reminded of Kathy often, here in New York where a "New York minute" takes about one hundred times as long as it takes an Australian male to cook a three minute egg.

What does 'a New York minute' mean I wonder? Most people outside of New York take it to mean that New Yorkers are zappy, rushing around, accomplishing a hundred things at once, working at the speed of light.

Only part of this is true. Sure they rush around. They are always rushing. But do they accomplish anything? And are they really efficient and zappy?

My theory is that they are constantly rushing in order to:

(1) make up for the time wasted on hold to the various customer service departments that a New Yorker is obliged to call daily.

(2) make up for the time standing in line waiting for service at the various places that still employ humans

(3) making up for the time spent in therapy recovering from the stress caused by (1) and (2).

Even Time Warner New York understands that a minute in New York is not a minute as defined by the Julian calendar.

I called Time Warner New York today. A robot woman told me that my 'hold time' would be one minute. Twenty minutes (measured on my French watch) passed before a human answered. I asked the human (well I THINK it was a human) why the hold message said hold time was one minute when in fact it was twenty. "I don't know", she answered. Being a smarty pants I replied, "Well who WOULD know?" My mistake. "I'll transfer your call", she answered. So I never did get to report that our cable line was out. No way was I going to stay on hold for another New York minute. I don't have the time for that sort of indulgence any more.

I think the New York Minute thing is a trick. A bit of hype put about by the tourist authority in order to give the impression that New York is a quirky place that is fun to visit. A bit like how Sydneysiders say that Sydney has good weather. Like Parisians being friendly or the Germans having trains that run on time.

I don't believe anything tourist authorities say anymore. When we went to Denmark I arrived with the mistaken belief that the Danes are so honest that you don't need to chain up your bike. Sure. I don't know about bikes but I DO know that Copenhagen is the only place in the world where I've been dumped in a far way place by a government-approved tourist bus. This experience was made even more annoying as 24 hours had been cut from our stay there - the result of the German train we had eventually boarded to get there, being three hours late ...

New York is more like what I used to think Mexico is like. Probably Mexico is a really efficient place and the Mexican tourist authority just puts about the maniana myth so that people needing a laid-back holiday will think of going there.

New York is very maniana. Don't expect to get anything done quickly here. And when it is done, it is done badly and needs replacing/repairing/returning. Whatever.

Paradoxically, it isn't laid-back either. It is a stressful sort of a maniana place. And there's heaps of Mexicans in New York. I used to think they came for a better life. But I now realise that they are just Mexican wanabes. Mexico was just too zappy and efficient for them so they came to New York where there's nothing that can't wait until maniana. Or the day after maniana.

I've lived in New York for almost nine years now (200 minutes in New York Time). I say "momentarily" instead of "moment" and can mispronounce "tomato" without a second thought. I'm even begininng to feel comfortable being late. Once a punctual person, I now have no hesitation in saying, "Oh, I can do that in a minute". And then promptly forgetting all about it. I've acclimated.

It won't be long before I can cook a three minute egg in forty minutes.

Kate Juliff
New York
August 2002