It’s time to lower the minimum wage.
Why not, when many workers in stores, restaurants, dry cleaners — you name it — have turned hopelessly stunad, as the Italian people say.
The word means dumb, but sounds eerily similar to so many service employees’ doped-up conditions.
They’re stoned up the wazoo, hollow-eyed, disengaged from their tasks, their breath reeking of weed.
Did GrubHub bring you General Tso’s chicken when you ordered chicken burritos?
Blame the delivery guys’ favorite hangouts — e.g., the “Smoke & Draft” shop across from my building on First Avenue at East 75th Street, where a sidewalk knife fight recently sent two of them to the hospital.
I gave a guy at Pret a Manger a $20 bill for an $8 cup of soup. I asked for a bag.
He took the $20 and promptly forgot the soup, my change, the bag — and me. He wandered off, inexplicably waving my Andrew Jackson like a flag, until I appealed to his colleagues.
I haven’t seen so much pot-induced lethargy since my Vietnam-era college days, when so many fellow students were high that their panicked weed-flushing during a rumored police raid overwhelmed the campus pipes.
Now, our whole pot-pickled city is that campus.
Why not, when many workers in stores, restaurants, dry cleaners — you name it — have turned hopelessly stunad, as the Italian people say.
The word means dumb, but sounds eerily similar to so many service employees’ doped-up conditions.
They’re stoned up the wazoo, hollow-eyed, disengaged from their tasks, their breath reeking of weed.
Did GrubHub bring you General Tso’s chicken when you ordered chicken burritos?
Blame the delivery guys’ favorite hangouts — e.g., the “Smoke & Draft” shop across from my building on First Avenue at East 75th Street, where a sidewalk knife fight recently sent two of them to the hospital.
I gave a guy at Pret a Manger a $20 bill for an $8 cup of soup. I asked for a bag.
He took the $20 and promptly forgot the soup, my change, the bag — and me. He wandered off, inexplicably waving my Andrew Jackson like a flag, until I appealed to his colleagues.
I haven’t seen so much pot-induced lethargy since my Vietnam-era college days, when so many fellow students were high that their panicked weed-flushing during a rumored police raid overwhelmed the campus pipes.
Now, our whole pot-pickled city is that campus.