>     With my notebook under my arm, he thought I was a architect...
>
> Good work, Cuyler.  I learned -- or more precisely, observed-- long
> ago that acting like you belong will get you a long way.

One time my previous business partner got confused on what address of
building he was supposed to be looking at so he went into the wrong
building, asked the doorman the way to the roof so that he could look at
the water leaks etc. All buildings in NYC seem to have water leaks. He
then proceeded to spend an hour mapping out the roof for an estimate and
only on leaving the building did he realize that he was supposed to be
at a building several doors along the street. This was pre-9/11. I
suggested he send the wrong building the right proposal for their work,
but he was too embarassed to follow through.

I have had occasion to go to some rather unpleasant places in NYC in the
past, at times alone, and I have always found it important for me to
have a mind set that I belong where I am at... leastways enough to
reassure myself. It never pays to look like a tourist, or to look lost,
it is important to look deliberate. I remember in particular visiting
one building in the South Bronx, a tenement with more than a missing
roof problem. I was incredibly happy to get away from there, and I
priced the work accordingly. Then there was the time when I went to look
at work at Sing Sing and the guards would not let me into the place
because I had on a shirt the color of the inmates uniforms. I was lucky
to have another shirt in the trunk as I had driven up the night before
and slept in the car to be sure to be at the appointment on time. That
was a bit too much of looking as if I belonged.

Buildings under construction when unoccupied, and abandonded old
buildings have an attraction. There was a house in Brooktondale where an
old couple lived. They owned a purple Studebaker, and when we lived in
Brooktondale I would visit with them. The old man showed me a walking
stick on the side of an elm tree, and I was amazed. One day the couple
vanished, I assume that they died. Nobody that I knew to talk to seemed
to know them, or that they ever existed. I went to their house, that had
stood empty for years, and looking in the windows of the kitchen I saw
the table fully set as if for a next meal. I have never lost the sense
of wonder that they simply vanished. While we are here I suppose we
should act as if we belong

][<

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