Life as a New Yorker

There is a well-known saying that, at any given time, every New Yorker is looking for either a job, an apartment or a partner. The lesser-known fact though is that the perfect version of each is as challenging to find as the other.

Three months ago I checked the first item off that list when I secured a marketing job with The Economist Group - a prestigious and popular world-wide brand that attracts a lot of attention when name-dropped in a room full of single men. But that's another story.

If getting the job wasn't surprise enough, the real eye-opener came on my first day when I was told that the hours are 9 to 5. Yes, you read right: Monday to Friday, 9am to 5pm. I came to New York City with a promise to myself that I would work 100 hours a week if that's what it took to keep a great job in this city. That said, for the first time in a decade, I have mastered the art of work:life balance. It's a rewarding challenge. I dare you to try it some time.

Job in place, my attention shifted recently to searching for an apartment. My current sublet arrangement - a furnished, too-good-to-be-true apartment in the Upper West Side - concludes at the end of May. The choices?

1) Rent an empty apartment and purchase furniture to fill it. Long term.
2) Sublet a furnished apartment. Short term.
3) Find a fabulous room-mate to rent with and hope they don't eventually reveal themselves as an axe-wielding, homicidal maniac. Short term or long term, depending on their state of mind.

It is a fact that the rental-vacancy rate in Manhattan is less than 1%, compared with a national average of around 9.7%. Compounded with the also interesting fact that two thirds of New York City residents are renters, this experience was stacking up to be more difficult than getting a visa to work in the USA. I put the word out to brokers, friends and colleagues to keep an eye out and an ear to the ground. And like most New Yorkers do, I got online and trawled through the endless postings on craigslist.com. I was determined to wrap up this little exercise in record time.

So I guess you're wondering what $2,000 a month will get you in Manhattan? Well, imagine cramming a combined bedroom/living space, kitchen and bathroom into your standard Australian master bedroom (sans ensuite) and THAT is your fabulous studio apartment. You might also have the priviledge of hearing a colourful story from the doorman when you inspect the building for the first time. Like this little corker: "I saw that construction guy fall from Trump's building and you know what? When he hit the ground, I'm not kidding, his head just popped off." The apartment didn't leave a good impression either.

My fortune came in the form of an email from one of my theatre friends. Word was out that a 32 year old composer/actor was looking for the perfect roomie to share his two-bedroom apartment in the theatre district of Midtown. Enter, me. We immediately hit it off and resolved to have the most wonderfully fun co-existence in history. I move in this weekend.

Which brings me to the third item on the list. True to my last blog about dating, I have accumulated a lot of male friends and have been spoilt on numerous occasions by doctors, lawyers, professors, finance guys... the usual repertoire of New York City men. Any sparks you ask? Well, checking that item off the list would mean defying that ol' New York saying. And we couldn't have that now, could we?

Until next time,

Kaylie

Dating: New York style

If you believe everything you see in the movies, you'll be expecting a flurry of excitement this Thursday night as hopeless romantics ascend to the top of New York City's Empire State Building. Not just because the views are spectacular. Oh no. It wlll be because in 1993, Tom Hanks as 'Sam' and Meg Ryan as 'Annie' brought us one helluva happy Valentine's Day ending to "Sleepless in Seattle". The movie single-handedly instigated a growing trend to get hitched at this most iconic of building icons, on the most love-saturated day of the year.

It would be fair for one to assume however, that these nubile lovebirds are tourists. From overseas. Now why would I make such a harsh accusation?

I recently discovered that marriages are on the decline in the USA. There are 97 million unmarried single people living in the USA. And a not-surprising 50% of adults living in New York fall into this singles category, the highest rate of any state in the US.

When I first learned this, I thought New York must be teaming with sad, lonely people, desperately searching for 'the one'. That was before I discovered the New York City phenomenon of DATING.

Now in case you missed every episode of Sex and The City, the general rule of dating in NYC is that you date many, and date often. The idea being that you hang out with a whole bunch of different individuals and get to know each one. Then, like a well-fed blowfly hovering over a plate of sizzling gourmet sausages at a summer barbeque, you eventually land on the one that is most to your liking (obviously hoping not to get shooed away before you do). What follows, apparently, is a discussion about "being exclusive". If you both agree that you are made for each other, then no other sausages gets a look in from that point on. Simple really.

Rules noted and confidence in tact, I decided to fast-track the waiting game and a couple of weeks ago I joined both a dating agency and an online dating site. I was determined to discover for myself how simple this concept really is so I lined up a week's worth of blind dates.

My first date came through the agency - brunch with James, shipping company owner. I was a little annoyed that he was 15 minutes late and that he had not called with an apology, but I reassured myself that an open mind is the key to any successful date. His excuse? His friend was in town for the weekend to attend the funeral of said friend's brother-in-law who, one day earlier that week had become a first-time father, then the next day fell out of a window and died. The remainder of the date mostly centred on exchanges of funeral stories. Only the funny ones of course.

Date number two was an online pick - Jonathan, owner of a commercial property company. We met for a cocktail followed by dinner. As usual, I offered to pay half the bill and placed cash on the table. That's when I discovered another American dating phenomenon: "American girls never offer to pay," Jonathan said. "And even if they offer, they certainly would never put money on the table." You mean I could eat out FREE every night of the week?(!)

My next online date was with Justin, a 31 year old personal trainer and property something-or-other. Note, he picked me. I'm not cradle-snatching. We met for a couple of drinks and quickly discovered that we are both fans of Elvis. I didn't think this was particularly unusual as he is Italian and every Italian guy I know dreams of pulling chicks like The King did.

Date number four was Andy, another set up from the agency. On paper, this guy would have looked like a great match. He writes music for television commercials. Advertising AND music? Yee haaah!! Sadly, it took me about 30 seconds to realise that Andy spends waaaay too much alone time in the studio and as a consequence, has a limited set of social skills. We agreed to wish one another well in our dating endeavors. (The upshot of the night was that I saw Chris Noth - 'Big' - from Sex and the City!)

My verdict on the concept of dating New York style? I have to admit, it was an exhausting but rewarding challenge. Having been out of the dating game for nine years, I had forgotten that first encounters are not like they are in the movies. Sparks don't necessarily ignite flames of passion within seconds of meeting, and it's unlikely you'll fall in love at first sight. But I did discover the answer as to why there are so many single people in New York City. Heck, they're just having a good time!

So what am I doing for Valentine's Day? You guessed it. The agency has organised a lunch date with a guy whom they described as: "oh my god Kaylie, he is GORGEOUS". Dinner will be spent with my newest, most fabulous friend - a 35-year-old single gal from Adelaide, Australia. Miss Adelaide moved to New York only a few weeks ago and together, we have already painted the town several devilish shades of red. It seems only appropriate to continue the tradition on Valentine's Day.

Until next time, if you're single, I know why you're smiling!

Kaylie

It's a small world, afterall.

If you have ever braved the flight from Perth, Australia, to New York City, USA, you'll know that the 18,700km journey keeps you in the air for about 24 hours. Plus stop over. And if you've spent even the shortest amount of time in both cities, you will have observed the many ways in wihch they contrast. Vastly.

Perth is a sunny, sprawling, coastal city with a population of 1.5 million people and is reputed nationwide as being "a great place to bring up kids". It also happens to be the most isolated metropolis in the world.

New York City, more specifically the island of Manhattan, also boasts a population of approximately 1.5 million people, only they're crammed into a land area of about 60km square. According to Wikipedia, Manhattan is the "commercial, financial and cultural center of the USA and, to varying extents, to the world." Yep. No kidding.

The two cities couldn't be further apart in distance, nor in daily culture. Yet, over the past week the two cities reached out to one another like nextdoor neighbours, to mourn a favourite resident - Heath Ledger. The media in both capitals continues to be consumed with inspiring stories about a talented actor who, at age 16, left his home in Perth to pursue his belief in himself and in his extraordinary abilities as a performer. It takes guts to leave your friends and family to follow a dream. It takes the guts of your friends and family to continue fueling your belief in the dream, even though at times, they'd probably rather you pack it in and head home. Ledger held a shining light for those with great asipirations of becoming better than they ever have been.

Of course, this sensational event occured during the week of Australia Day celebrations in New York City. The three functions that I attended were tinged with sentimental pride because in some way, the young actor was like the kid we all knew from next door.

I arrived back in NYC two weeks ago with a single resolution: "to get a job and to HAVE FUN". In my first week, I distributed my rewritten resume to every online job board across the USA. I contacted recruiters and potential employers. And I signed up for three Australia Day events the following week. (New York is all about the networking).

So here's some of what I've been up to over the past seven days:

• Lunch at a restaurant in Grand Central Station with a group called Australian Women in New York. Made a couple of great new friends.
• Lunch with an Aussie performer who is now working in NYC theatre administration. Another great new friend.
• Drinks with fellow Australians at the New York Magpies Footy Club event. Yeh, I can't believe I went either, but they said they'd be selling pies.
• Helped out on the Commercial Theater Institute stand at the Entertainment Industry Expo. Not an Aussie event, but what the hey.

The piece de resistance was attending the Australia Day Ball at the famous Waldorf Astoria. I tagged along with a friend who works at the New York Post and felt extremely priviledged to sit at one of the two NewsCorp tables. The night's guest list included Jessica Alba, Julian McMahon, Jack Thompson, Eskimo Joe, Shannon Noll and several Australian Federal politicians (your tax money was well spent). I even managed to snap a couple of shots of me with Eskimo Joe and Jack Thompson! Couldn't resist.

It gets better...

On Wednesday of last week, I emailed my resume to a recruiter at one of the major agencies in Manhattan. I had spoken with this guy in late December and he asked whether I had authorisation to work in the USA. I told him that I don't, but that I meet the criteria for the E3 visa (which, incidentally, no one here knows anything about). He said that there would be no way that an employer would even consider me if they had to go through the visa application process unless I had something amazing to offer them. Point taken.

While I was away over the holiday season, I engaged a professional resume writer to rewrite my CV to American standards. You see, I decided that life is too short and that I should take a much wider approach to my job search. And although it cost a bit, I figured it would be worth the investment. It was this document that I emailed to said recruiter last week.

The recruiter returned an email almost immediately with details of a job he thought may interest me. I asked him to put my name forward and the next day he phoned me with an appointment time for Friday with the prospective employer. He also told me that the position had been open for "a while" and that they hadn't yet met the person whom they felt had the right skill set and personality to fit with the company.

The interview was two hours long. I met with four different people over that time and had a strong sense that they had decided to combine both the first and second interviews - on the hop. I was so frazzled at the end of it, I took a cab across town to Bloomingdales for a bit of retail therapy. I paid the taxi driver and as I crossed the street I thought I heard someone yelling my name. It turns out it wasn't "Kaylie" this guy was yelling, it was "lady!". I had left my folio of work in the cab and the next passenger waved me down. Phew.

First thing this morning (Monday), I got a call from the recruiter to tell me that I was "at the top of the list" and that "the company has one more person to meet with before they make a decision at the end of this week". At lunchtime today, he called again to congratulate me for landing my first job in New York City! I am pleased to tell you that once my E3 visa is approved, I will be working with the team at The Economist Group, marketing their conferences throughout the USA as part of Economist Intelligence Unit.

You see kids, never take "no" for an answer. Just keep searching for a way to hear "yes". I admit, landing this job was good timing all round, but I would never had found it if I had have believed for one second that I shouldn't send my resume to this particular recruiter.

So I've had a pretty amazing week making things happen. I've made some fabulous new friends and I am about to start my career in my favourite city and only because I had the guts to move half way around the world to realise a dream. And because you had the guts to stick it out with me.

It will take another couple of weeks to process the visa application and poor me, I'll have to fly to the Bahamas to get it. Needless to say, there are more stories to come. I promise.

Oh! Before I forget. When I arrived at the Entertainment Industry Expo on Sunday, a guy tapped me on the shoulder and said: "Excuse me. On Friday afternoon, at approximately 4.30pm, on the corner of 59th and Lexington, you got out of a cab...". Can you believe it? On an island of 1.5 million people, I again met the guy who, two days earlier, had rescued my folio from the taxi. Sadly, he wasn't a hottie. But I did manage to squeeze in three dates last week with three different guys who were kinda OK. But more on that next week.

Until then, remember, the world is a small place. The people in one city are no different to the people in the next. We all have dreams. We all have talents. The only thing that stops us from achieving the things in life that we want most, is ourselves.

Kaylie

It's official. Elvis Loves Me.

Happy New Year, from New York City. Yes, I'm back in the city I love most with tales from a colourful three-week interlude at places elsewhere, while I accommodated the expiry of my first 90-day visa.

The holiday season was spent with my 'little' sister Natasha at her home in Glasgow, Scotland. Tash has lived there for about seven years and in that time I have visited her twice. From the moment I arrived this third time though, I started planning my 'escape'. Oh don't get me wrong, the little sis' is lovely. It's just gloomy Glasgow that gets to me. Having said that though, we did have a fun time during an afternoon trip to what I regard as Scotland's prettiest city, Edinburgh. We visited my favourite t-shirt shop, Fabrick, to stock up on personalised slogan numbers. That's right, you think of it and they'll print it. Last time I was there, I had a tee printed with "Elvis Loves Me". It has always gotten a great reaction, so I was keen to outdo myself this time with these three new additions to my wardrobe:

• IT'S NOT ME. IT'S YOU.


• I ROCK


• TODAY IS CASUAL SEX DAY

Not sure when I'll wear the third one, but it did seem like a great idea after a couple of drinks over lunch.

Continuing in the Scottish tradition of drinking for any or no reason, Christmas day was spent with dear friends of Natasha's playing board games, eating turkey and consuming copious amounts of wine. I had New Year's Eve to myself for the first time ever, which was a real treat . Typcially, NYE for me is spent performing somewhere. Or during my married years, it was also spent celebrating my wedding anniversary. So with a glass of wine in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other, I toasted my achievements of 2007, acknowledged the day nine years ago that I became a 'Stansfield', and continued working on my escape plan.

My craving for Vitamin D had finally climaxed and I spent my days in Glasgow fantasizing about sunnier shores. Literally. 'Plan A' was to try and get a direct flight to the Cayman Islands in the Caribbean, followed by a direct flight to New York City. 'Plan B' was to book a direct flight to Miami, Florida. Flight availabilites and finances overruled my first choice, so on Sunday January 6, I arrived back in the USA on a nine-hour direct flight from London to Miami.

I had flown into London the night before and managed to get about five hours sleep at an airport hotel before heading back to catch my next flight. By the time I arrived in Miami and waited more than an hour in line at immigration, I was exhausted. I knew I'd be relying on divine intervention to convince the customs guys that my request for a 90-day visa was for vacation purposes only.

Before leaving New York in December, I spoke with a lot of Australian travellers who had visited the USA on back-to-back 90-day visa waivers. The short version of this very long story is that if the folks at immigration suspect that you're trying to live and work in the USA illegally, they can and may refuse entry. I had given this a lot of thought and was convinced I had all bases covered. Even down to the clothes I would wear upon my re-entry.

When I finally made it to the front of the queue, I noticed there were just three officers processing the visas from our flight. The closest to me was about five metres away and he was attending to a young couple. It didn't take long for him to notice me in the line. Not because I look fabulous on no-sleep and after a long flight, but because he liked my t-shirt. We then had a conversation across the five metre stretch of the room that went something like this (remember, he's still serving the young couple):

Him: "Oh wow, I love your t-shirt."

Me: "Gee thanks."

Him: "That's so funny. Elvis Loves Me. That's so cool because usually it's: I Love Elvis."

Me: "Yeh. The sad thing is, I had this made."

Him: "Oh, you're fan?"

Me: "Yes. It's his birthday in two days so this is my tribute."

"NEXT!" It was my turn to step up to the immigration desk. Fortunately it was to the guy sitting next to my newly acquired t-shirt fan.

Him again: "Hey man, look at her t-shirt. It's so cool."

Me: (Stick my boobs out. Say nothing).

The second immigration guy was lovely, but wasn't so charmed by my slogan. (thank god I didn't wear the "today is casual sex day" t-shirt). Guy number one however said he'd like to go to Graceland with me. Guy number two gave me a grilling but, well, here I am. You see, there is a God. His name is Elvis. And like the t-shirt says, he really does love me.

I stayed in South Beach Miami for almost a week, lapping up the sunshine and taking private scuba diving lessons with a super-hot Cuban. I consumed almost a full box of sea sick pills to cope with the 3ft to 4ft swells and churning currents and can now proudly say that I am a certified PADI Open Water Diver. It was just the achievement I needed to get the adrenaline pumping for my next series of exciting adventures in the USA. Whatever they might be.

Until next week friends, may The King be with you.

Kaylie