Tag: Non-fiction

The $10.125 Sandwich

JulianLeave a comment

The goal of the game is selling sandwiches. You sell sandwiches by making it fun. You make it fun by taking fun seriously. 

I bought a sandwich today. The sandwich shop offers a cute promotion: from 3 to 6 pm, if you call a coin flip correctly, you pay half price. 

It’s fun, it’s attractive, and they net 75% of the normal retail price. 

But the experience is broken. 

First, you don’t pay until after the flip. So I, who sees loopholes without trying, am instantly aware that I could order the sandwich, flip the coin, and walk if it lands the wrong way. How would they even develop a process to stop me? I pay full price and then the flip determines my refund?

Second, the coin. It’s some B.S. commemorative coin — one side is the restaurant name, the other the logo — where neither side is obviously heads or tails. So the cashier has to tell me, and presumably every patron between 3 and 6pm, “this side is heads.”

Third, the flip. Less a flip than a half-spin. He calls it whichever way it lands in his hand. Not even the catches-it-and-slaps-it-onto-the-back-of-his-other-hand move that’s standard on any schoolyard.

What happened to the good ol’ quarter?
Why are we making this more complicated than it needs to be?
Why can’t the customer flip the coin onto the counter, where it would be easily visible?
Why not call the sides “name” and “logo” instead of heads and tails? 

The sandwich was good. It satisfied my basic need – fuel after the gym so I’m not grumpy. It wasn’t $13.50 good. It’s definitely $6.75 good. It’s probably also $10.125 good (the expected cost). 

Here’s what bugs me. The promotion could have been theater. A customer walks in, gets drawn into a small moment of drama, calls it in the air, wins or loses, laughs either way, tells their friends. Instead it’s a transaction with a dice roll bolted on. The cashier is phoning it in. The coin is wrong. The flip is wrong. The ritual isn’t a ritual.

The fun version costs them nothing. Same margin, same coin-flip odds, same sandwich. Just a real coin, a real flip, and a cashier who understands he’s running a tiny game show for thirty seconds a day. 

And sure, if there are people in line behind me, by all means do the quick version. But the main reason they’re doing this promotion at all is because they don’t have many patrons between 3 and 6pm. 

If they fixed it, I’d come back. If they fixed it, I’d bring people. The half-time half-price is nice; the experience could also have value. 

Also, I called heads and it landed tails. 

Know what you’re hiring for (Apr 15 2026)

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As long as you do your job 🙂 

My contractor is excellent. Exquisite. Delightful. Perfect for the price point. 

His project manager is new.
Not in a bad way.
In a just-moved-to-the-U.S.-from-Pakistan-where-he-used-to-be-an-architect way.
In a living-with-eight-relatives-out-in-the-boonies way.
In a this-is-his-first-project-at-his-new-job-in-a-new-country way.
In a hungry way. 

Yesterday, he sent me a long email saying we need to stick to timeline.
I replied appreciating him for his work and telling him, respectfully, that the delays have all been on his side.
I also texted the contractor to follow up about a question he and I had discussed thrice, but that the project manager had a different conclusion on.
I received a reply that included both the answer I expected and a note that he was looking forward to seeing me tomorrow.
I replied: tomorrow? That works, but did we have a scheduled appointment? 

And at 8:36am, Partner prods me in my half-torporious slumber to say that project manager is en route.
I check my email. At 5am, the project manager emailed to say we were meeting at 9am. 

The amusing part is: this is actually fine. None of these minor hiccups have actually been problematic for the specific job I want him to do.
And also, if his timing is a bit slower because he’s green, we’ve signed a sufficiently solid contract to be okay in that eventuality. 

I’m still very sure that the project manager is a good fit, and that the contractor is excellent.
I’m also suspicious that the project manager might have been up all night working on my project. (He said he had sent the 5am email “last night” and I’m not sure when he slept before taking the metro north train in.)
And that he dresses differently depending on whether he is going to meet designers (black turtleneck on one occasion, stylish black t-shirt on another) or subcontractors (blue jeans and a baseball cap).
Lol.
Keep up the good work! 

Vandals & Volition (Apr 14 2026)

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Why can’t we all want the same things? 

Just outside our apartment, walking to The Park, Partner & I spotted a man kick a trash can. The can fell on its side, languishing in the street. 

Despite having an appointment in 40 minutes and Google Maps informing me the walk would take 38 minutes, I stopped to right the can. I lifted first its outer shell, plopping it back in its rightful place on the sidewalk, then its inner catching chamber, inserting this chamber into the shell. 

Walking away, I felt both smug and nervous. I caught myself sneaking glances at the vandal who had tipped it over. Will he notice? Come after me? Have I regressed the impact of his righteous fury, thereby inspiring it against myself? 

Just as I entered the park, he looked back toward the can, object of his anger. Noticing it was tipped, he crossed back across 7th avenue, re-set himself in the same position, and kicked it over again. 

And I, already too far and with other things to do, continued on with my day. 

Three hours later, I returned to find the can replaced in its proper location, save for the lid slightly open. Some other Good Samaritan must have contributed to the fight against entropy. 

But I’ll always remember the kicker’s determination. How inspiring it must be to have a clear, defined purpose. 

—

I found it: the best article ever written in America. I laughed. I cried. I hungered. I grew. Deeply worth the experience, especially for those of us who care about the journey of food and the food of journeying.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/2026/05/best-free-restaurant-bread-america/686582/

—

And a quote from April 8th: 

“How come you’re incredibly detail-oriented when reading a contract?” – Partner, fishing out an egg from the pot of eggs I sous vided last night and clearly just missed one when I put them away.

Selections & Sewage (Apr 13 2026)

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In which Our hero explores options. 

Click here for the accompanying video. 

Today, Partner and I visited an appliance showroom. Here’s what we learned: 

  • Shower heads come with flow rate limiters. The national legal maximum is 2.5 gallons per minute. You can remove your flow rate limiter, as the salesman at the showroom once did. His shower subsequently shot water with such force that it knocked the shower door clean off and flooded his bathroom. 
  • If you buy a thermostatic shower handle, you can have infinite separate shower heads all pointing at you. The shower heads are each limited at 2.5 gallons per minute. The thermostatic valve caps out at 14 gallons per minute. So even with three shower heads you won’t lose water pressure! All you have to do is ensure you’re shipping the showerhead to a state that does not have more restrictive requirements (California and New York both cap showerheads at 1.8 gallons per minute)
  • Some faucets cost $150. Some cost $800. Some cost $2400. They all dispense water. The $800 vs $2400 is cosmetic. The $150 vs $800 can be functional. 
  • The cheapest toilets and the expensive toilets both will ultimately contain sewage. The cheapest toilets don’t have glazed piping, so over time the sewage will accumulate in the pipe. The mid-range vs expensive toilets are functionally equivalent, just with different aesthetics and different ease of cleaning the part that doesn’t touch sewage. 
  • No one makes a bidet seat in black. 
  • Everyone likes a toto toilet, especially if you’re getting one with a bidet. I’m not convinced. I enjoy a vigorous stream when shooting water around my anus. The toto toilets I have used are disappointing in this context. 
  • Linear drains (long, thin rectangular ones) in New York City are much more expensive than normal, square drains since they must legally be made of more expensive materials. 
  • Steam showers cost $5k, minimum. 
  • Neither Partner nor I like rain head showers. Our dislike, according to the showroom attendant, is a common perspective. 
  • I will likely be able to realize my dream of three showerheads all at once. Bully for me! 
  • One model of toilet costs just over $26,000. It is not made of gold. I did get to sit on it.

The empty longing of a holding pattern. (Apr 12 2026)

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In which Our Hero yearns. 

When a plane doesn’t yet have a safe runway available, the control tower tells the captain to “go around again”. The captain circles and circles, awaiting the change in this external event that will enable the hundreds of passengers to continue on with their lives. No one enjoys a holding pattern. Quite the opposite: it is during these unenjoyable intervals that we find ourselves “killing time”. 

The last few weeks have been versions of this activity. I’ve forwarded key aspects of incredible importance (my eye surgery; Partner’s jaw surgery complications fixing; Partner’s medical malpractice case; apartment renovations; my work). Yet we – Partner and I – are not living the lives we wish. 

We lift weights more days than not. We amble through the most beautiful park in the greatest city in the world. We cook and eat food that we enjoy. We watch Jeopardy over lunch or dinner, shouting out the answers we know (and a roughly equal number that we don’t). 

But still, we wish for more community. 

We moved into this apartment with the intent of living with others. Now, 2.5 months in, renovations have not started. They might not for another month. Then add 4 months for the renovations themselves. And it could be – probably will be – over half a year before we live with roommates we like, hosting weekly dinners and playing board games and shouting out Jeopardy answers with more than just ourselves. 

This period – this holding pattern – weighs on me. 

There’s no point establishing clear patterns and habits and routines when they will all change in a month. No point improving the infrastructure or systems in a home that will literally have different walls. No reason to stabilize on processes of engagement with my roommate (Partner) when we’ll need to live elsewhere for a while and then return to a different home. 

So we set ourselves on a month-long horizon. We establish temporary patterns. We work, and lift weights, and reach out to friends. We enjoy what we can. 

But still, each day, I want more. 

I want what we’re building. I want at least 5 people living here. I want to cook meals with others, to establish a weekly “Come over for dinner on Tuesday!” that invites a half-dozen people. A board game group and a poker group. I miss those activities. I miss them, though I’ve never had them. 

And that weight – the weight of wanting what I don’t have – is a heavy burden

for at least the next month. Or two. Or four. Or six. Or….

A Small Change’s Gonna Come (Apr 10 2026)

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You can’t always get what you already don’t like having

Steven Jobbers (the famous fruit vendor) once said (or at least I remember hearing of him saying it) that he tracks whether his days are good and if he ever has too many not-good days in a row, he makes a change. 

Yesterday, I made a change. 

This change: 

Walking up 7th avenue, roundabouts 26th street, I saw all the negatives. Everything sucked. So I switched it. I saw that woman’s hat. That’s a good hat. Then the windowpane. That’s some straight-up magic. Then the fact that Partner enjoys hanging out with me, even when I’m a grumptastic grumplestiltskin. That’s nice. 

I did this over and over – saw the positive, the good, the bright thing. 

Often that’s how I get dragged into the doldrums: seeing the problem, the issue, why it wouldn’t work. I avoid that, resist it, run from it. 

That’s how Partner engineers. She sees the problem, the issue, the way it won’t work. I find that demotivating. She finds it comforting. 

Today, Partner worked from a coffeeshop. I worked from home, leaving three hours before I woke up. A good day is one where you sing to yourself in the morning, then only put on pants around noon. I completed around 7 administrative tasks, only one actually for me. Then, at 1pm, Partner came back. How nice it was to see her after a few hours away! 

I like working alone. I like the emptiness. The lack of seen-ness. The feeling and knowledge that no one’s paying attention to whatever-the-hell I’m doing. Writing with a witness is a nightmare. 

She likes coffeeshops.
I can’t stand them.
Two nice

tiny

significant

shifts. 

Ahhh. 😌

Alums, Assembled. (Apr 9 2026)

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If you can’t return to the school, the school will return to you. 

“I was just talking about you. I was telling him about your underground gambling ring in highschool.” 

My reputation left an impression. 

“If the administration found you, they would have expelled you!” 

Oh, come on. Do you know how hard it was to get expelled from that school? Dealing drugs to other students or cheating on an exam, sure. Or, like, punching someone. But gambling? 

–

“Julian Wise! I know that name.” –two women from the grade below me. They recognized my name. I sure didn’t recognize them. 

–

My highschool had an alumni gathering in New York City earlier tonight. I ran into some old friends and met some new friends. This is why I live in New York: the serendipitous activities; the always-on; the my-highschool-was-on-the-west-coast-but-of-course-there-are-enough-people-in-New-York-for-an-alumni-gathering. 

I feel sad. Sad that it’s over. Sad that I can’t ride that social high. Missing it already. 

I miss that event more than I miss most of the activities I did in highschool. 

Improv, some theater, bumming around with friends. ..
I don’t miss having been there.
New York seems to have been in hibernation mode.
And now, finally, it opens. 

On Occupation (April 8 2026)

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Not the military type. 

My recent activity has all but concluded.
Six months of hiring.
An important job.
Hiring, negotiating, structuring, whittling.
And now I have a contractor. 

My plans are submitted.
So, may god’s love be with me! 

Now,
I want a job. 

Sure, I spent 6 months working on key life projects (purchasing an apartment; hiring contractors).
Now I’d like to return to work.
It’s a weird experience for someone who
has only ever run his own business.
(Sure, there was a year-long stint as chief of staff to the ceo of a tech company.) 

I’ve only ever gotten jobs from referrals.
And most of those are self-directed. 

Now,
I seek something stable.
I’d love a remote job with clear deliverables.
What are my skills? 

  1. Writing. Blog posts, website copy. I’ve done lots of reliable work here. (Earlier this decade, I was the most sought-after ghostwriter in the Bay Area tech scene!)  
  2. Fundraising pitches. I’ve raised $1.5M for one startup and $800k for another, both by rewriting and workshopping their pitches (and the former by actually doing the pitching). 
  3. CEO whispering. I navigated one company through a cofounder split-up, served as chief of staff to the ceo of another, and helped a third rewrite her sales contracts and sales calls, tripling her ARR in 2 months. 

What else? 

  • I do good work, turn it in on time, and my coworkers generally like me. That’s worth something too. 

I feel this odd sense of loss. Of distance from myself. As though I wish for this situation – this need for occupation – to be solved. But also, a reticence to exist in a box where it is solved. 

I’d enjoy this occupation because the rest of my activity is more lax.
The books I’ve written; the apartment I’m remodeling; the weird medical and legal systems I’m working through: all would be improved if my head were also often somewhere else. 

And also, it would be nice if that somewhere else also gave me money. 

Sleeping Uneasy (April 7 2026)

JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero becomes crochety about costs. 

When did pillows get to be $100?
Is this a technological thing?
Are they actually that much better than cheaper pillows?
One recommendation aggregator literally asked the question, “Is it worthwhile buying a pillow under $50?”
There’s no way the cost of production is this high.
Is it? 

Pillows are very important. Shoes, pillows, mattresses, tires. If it goes between you and the ground, get a good one. Gravity is pulling us down all day. It’s worth it to spend for quality. 

And sleep is super important, too. How much would you pay for the difference between a good night’s sleep and a meh night’s sleep? $1? More? Now multiply that times the lifetime of a pillow. $50 is a steal! $100, too! 

Still, a large part of me is recalling the pillows I had in France. $14 per pillow and super high quality.
Maybe we don’t have better pillows here.
We just have more money

and therefore more willingness to pay. 

This whole thing keeps me up at night. 

Deleted Scenes from Resurrection Sunday (Apr 6 2026)

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In this happenstance order

  1. The pastor only ever referred to Easter as “Resurrection Sunday”. I’ve no idea why. 
  2. About 110 minutes into the 125-minute service, a banner appeared on the projection screen: “Will the owner of a GREEN CHEVY license plate [number] parked on 116 between 7th and 8th, please attend to your vehicle” 
  3. The women beside me debated the age of the star soloist in the church choir. Their final guess: 51 years old. They also think it’s obvious she dyes her hair. I’m surprised, as I’ve never seen someone with dyed hair that short. (I would have assumed that shortness gets too much bleach & dye on the scalp.)  
  4. The pastor opened his speech with, “I feel like doing a comedy set.” Then, a few beats later, he commented about latecomers seeking seats. “You mad you can’t find a seat? It’s eleven-o’-five on Resurrection Sunday. Services started at ten!” This line killed. 
  5. The head pastor and the youth pastor share a last name. The youth pastor’s first name is “Tre”. I wonder if it’s short for “the third”.
    1. My fact-checker investigated this question. She says, “Tre is, in fact, his father’s son.”
      1. She finds this hilarious. 
      2. And yes, Tre is the third.