New York Moment: Odd Jobs

New York City is home to the greatest eclectic array of people in the world. I feel comfortable stating that as fact. It’s more than the size of New York—the city of 8 million people. After all, you never hear anyone ramble on about how much they love Shanghai even though it holds the largest population in the world—clocking in at over 23 million.  

It's more than the skyline, or even the food.

There is a reason why everyone comes here and immediately considers which I <3 NY shirt to buy. 

I’m convinced that it has something to do with the crazy spectrum of person New Yorkers lie on. There are bums buried beneath bags of Coke cans; actors working three jobs (sometimes none of which are acting); recent college grads wandering the streets trying to find purpose; high-power executives jabbering to themselves on their Bluetooths; random celebrities blending in. We all use the same subway. We all walk the same streets. It’s insane how such different people exist in the same environment.

Thanks to the these harrowing gaps in New York society, there is a strange surplus of odd jobs and a city's population of people to fill them. It’s not that there aren’t odd jobs in other cities. What feels different about New York is the variation in the type of task and the elevated demand for people to fill these stints. My grandpa used to joke that I would never be poor, because I could always find a random way to make a buck. 

But this isn't just about the extra dough. The unique aspect of a New York odd job is the opportunity to make connections.  After all, I do know someone who ended up as a runway model in Isaac Mizrahi's Fashion Week 2011 show just because he tended bar at the right person's swank apartment.

Well last week, I achieved a new high of fitting odd jobs into spare time. While working my daily 9-5ish awesome day-gig, after work I filled my week waitressing a private dinner party, a freelance writing project, and babysitting.

I never worked for a caterer. I never held a job at a bar or in a restaurant. But the colleague of a friend of mine was hosting a Tuesday night dinner party at her schmancy apartment and needed some young blood to do the heavy lifting (or in this case the light lifting of wine bottles and the heavy washing of a seemingly endless parade of dishes). While some extra cash is always handy, I actually signed up to be cocktail-waitress-for-a-night because there were bound to be some pretty important media moguls in the room and I wanted to meet them.

The guest list is what made this party so New York. You might get asked to bartend some couple’s 50th wedding anniversary in Massachusetts, but I highly doubt that one dozen CEOs of notable companies like HBO and the like will be in attendance. So, as the upper echelon discussed the upcoming election and the fate of our nation, I served gazpacho and refilled their wine. 

I didn’t get a formal introduction, as the hostess had intended, but at least I tried (and I hope I made a positive impression on the hostess herself).

After that night, I definitely needed to recuperate. Warning: if you spend five hours on your feet serving food, worrying about spilling said food, and then drying dishes that held that food you will be absolutely exhausted. Don’t make big plans afterwards.

Wednesday evening (post cocktail-waitressing) I had packed with two events, both work-related, though not work. I attended a Campbell's event at the Met on behalf of Parents. There is a special Andy Warhol exhibition that just opened and I was invited to preview the art and taste new Campbell’s products. What goes better with Andy Warhol than tomato soup? 

My makeshift dinner-by-tasting was the precursor to my make-up’s night out at Fresh for an Urban Girl Squad event—the organization I blog for. I dabbled in face creams and lip gloss before spending my hard-earned cash (and more) at Loehmann's! With the Jewish holidays in full swing, I needed a wardrobe to match. And therein lies of the beauty of making extra money: no extra guilt.

Before heading home for Rosh Hashannah on Friday, I squeezed in another odd job Thursday night by visiting my second family. By visited, I mean babysat. I’ve been babysitting for the same family since my freshman year of college and they truly are family at this point. I hadn’t seen them in four months and I think I squeezed little Ellington for five minutes before I let go. 

The beauty of New York is that there are odd jobs galore. In fact, you could make a career of odd jobs and live a surprising, spontaneous life if you wanted. But more important than the money, are the opportunities and the people you meet. You never know if the woman whose child you tuck in at night will turn out to be your second mom and confidante. You never know if that woman you poured wine for will want you to star in her upcoming television series (I can dream, right?). 

You just never know.