A young professional’s take on the trials and tribulations of everyday life in New York City.

So, who got an emergency text message yesterday? And of those of you who did, how many forgot it was a test and momentarily freaked the funk out and bee-lined to the nearest bomb shelter? Be honest. No judgments.

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Now, who didn’t receive a test text yesterday?

This gal.

At first I figured it would come later in the day, since they were sending them out between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. I kept checking my phone thinking, oh well, I must be on the later shift. But when 3 p.m. rolled around and all I got was a text from my father about dinner plans, I realized I was not to be among the chosen. I felt rejected.It hurt.

I know some people were all, “what about my privacy grumble grumble!” And I hear you, I do. Grumble grumble right back at ya. But I, for one, want my number on this urgent emergency text message code red super crisis alert list for the following reasons:

1. I tend to think an organized, far-reaching and efficient system of government-to-citizen communication in a time of crisis is a good thing, and desirable. In other words, I wanna know when stuff is going down. I search Twitter for an answer every time I hear a loud noise outside my window, for gosh sakes. (As an aside: try this sometime. The results are astoundingly helpful).

2. I like to feel included.

3. I hate to feel left out.

So this round of testing has failed me. Perhaps it was a random selection of recipients. Perhaps I’m not on the shortlist for species repopulation efforts in the event of a zombie attack or devastating outbreak of some “I Am Legend” disease. Perhaps I accidentally opted out of this program in some fleeting “what about my privacy grumble grumble!” moment.

Whatever the reason, I feel so uncool right now.

I could call my phone provider or the city or the Mayor or whatever, but I doubt it would do any good. Apparently, in the event of an emergency, I won’t be saved. Best to prepare myself however I must now, and hope that I’m good friends with someone who is on the list. This is precisely why I hate going to clubs, by the way. Well, among other reasons.

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Anyway, for the record, I’m taking this personally. NYC, you owe me one.

*Ten imaginary and meaningless points to the first person to identify the movie quote in the headline.


Dear Readers: While I am rarely at a loss for words, I’m always grateful for column ideas. Please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions.

Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.

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