200 New Yorkers Reveal: Their Worst Enemy!
Time! Satan!! Fruit desserts!!!
Hello everyone,
Welcome to Issue #200 of CAFÉ ANNE!
Wait, did I really say ISSUE 200? I did I did! And I’m not letting this slip by unrecognized. We’ve got a special 200-New Yorker story to celebrate.
But first, looking back at Issue #199, the most common response I got to the profile of Andy Yeung and his new Chinatown shop selling shrimp as pets came in the form of a question: “Are they edible?”
I texted Andy to ask if he ever tried eating the merchandise. The answer: no.
But could you? A quick search unearthed an exchange in the r/aquariums forum on Reddit dedicated to this very topic. The answer, it turns out, is that yes, you can definitely eat these tiny shrimp! But you really wouldn’t want to. They are mostly shell, and at $4-$8 for a half-inch crustacean, this is very expensive protein. Pound-per-pound, dogs or even cats are a much better bargain.
In other news, my pestering continues to pay off! A slew of new paid subscriptions came in last week. Huge pet-protein shoutouts to Larry O (who bought a gift subscription for a pal), Karina, Rebecca G., Jane B., Emily B., Will B., Zack, founding subscriber Josh V., Cat, Anne-Marie and Colin M. That’s enough $$$ for eight weeks of normal food from the supermarket!
I am very excited for this week’s issue, of course. We have a street survey of 200 New Yorkers asking them to name their worst enemy. Please enjoy.
Regards!
Anne
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200 New Yorkers Reveal: Their Worst Enemy!
Two years ago, for the 100th issue of CAFÉ ANNE, I surveyed 100 New Yorkers and asked them to share their words of wisdom. For the 200th issue this week, I thought it’d be fun to do another street survey—and double the number! But what to ask? I turned to my “friend” Aharon for ideas. He had just one suggestion, but it was a good one. “Ask them to name their worst enemy,” he advised.
Of course I asked him to reveal his own enemy number one.
“You,” he declared.
Last week, I set out to interview 200 New Yorkers on the street, asking them all the same question: “Who—or what—is your worst enemy?” I started in Downtown Brooklyn’s Cadman Plaza, notebook in hand, approaching anyone who looked like they might enjoy a spicy question from a stranger.
Though I cheated a bit and got 35 responses from NYC friends, it still took me the larger part of three days to get answers from 200 New Yorkers. You can’t just approach a stranger on the street, ask them to reveal their worst enemy, thank them and walk away. They will want to explain, or perhaps relate their life story. One person started to cry.
Fortunately I mostly had great weather. Everyone was out in the parks and in a good mood. A lot of people burst out laughing when they heard the question. I even met one city bus driver who, after spotting me walking by with my notepad, invited me aboard and asked his passengers to help me with my survey.
Okay, enough wind-up! Here are the results!
“The worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche
I was surprised when one of the first people I interviewed in Cadman Plaza Monday afternoon—a young Flatbush fellow who works in retail—said I was staring his worst enemy in the face. “Myself!” he said. “I’m a procrastinator. I’m not very disciplined. I’d like to have a routine.”
But this wasn’t a fluke. That exact response came up over and over. Of the 200 New Yorkers I interviewed, 35% identified their own self as their biggest foe. Even the Naked Cowboy!
“My worst enemy is myself, I am ambitious beyond belief,” he responded when I texted my question. “I am never satisfied. I push myself beyond any rational set of expectations. Simply put, I get what I want or someone, usually myself, has hell to pay.”
Many cited inner conflict or a lack of discipline. “When the alarm goes off, not getting up, snoozing it,” said a Kipps Bay day trader I met in Union Square.
“I try to do things and then sabotage them,” said a Manhattan photographer. “Like, I’m going to lose weight and then I eat chocolate-covered almonds. I lie in bed at night and think about all the things I’ll accomplish the next day, and now I’m sitting here in the park.”
A Downtown Brooklyn tennis instructor: “My apartment is still not organized. Whose fault is that?”
A Flatbush property manager: “I’m going through an issue with my wife. But I’m prolonging the situation, putting off the things I should be doing, making excuses.”
An Astoria consultant: “I go home knowing I should have worked out, or I go for a drink or a smoke instead of going for a walk.”
“I just finished a statistics test and saw someone sitting next me cheating,” said an NYU student. “I didn’t cheat, but now I regret it. If I’d cheated, I’d regret that too. I’d regret it either way.”
Awww! I was touched that so many people—from musicians and sales reps to a hospice nurse and a scientist—were walking around the city feeling so frustrated with themselves. I wanted to give each one a hug and tell them that they were already wonderful people—even if they ate too many chocolate-covered almonds.
But I have to admit, in some cases, the “myself” response struck me as a bit of a humble-brag—a way to signal maturity and self-awareness. Sort of like admitting that your worst flaw is perfectionism.
And then there were all the folks who said their main problem was that they were too critical of themselves. I think I first heard the term “inner critic” ten years ago. Now everyone’s got one, especially the Gen-Zs!
An interesting aside: folks in their 20s and 30s—especially students and early career professionals—were far more likely to name themselves as their worst enemy. Women and creative workers also skewed toward psychological answers such as self-doubt, while men and workers in trades or service jobs more often named external enemies or practical problems such as specific people, finances, work and not getting enough sleep.
And folks citing minor annoyances such as rats and noisy neighbors tended to be older professionals and retirees. Isn’t it great when the stereotypes hold true?
“If you have no enemies, you have no character.”
— Paul Newman
The second most common response? Twelve percent said they had no enemy, an answer often accompanied with a self-satisfied smile. “I try to keep my circle peaceful,” sniffed one Brooklyn artist in her 30s.
Having an enemy, it seems, is out of style these days. Much like smoking, everyone knows it’s bad for you, and no one wants to admit to it.
Hello! You know who my worst enemy is? Anyone who won’t confess to having an enemy. If you have no nemesis, you should invent one just for fun!
So here’s mine. While I’ve never met them in person, it’s a certain “influencer” who goes around NYC tagging the sidewalks with lines of encouragement and affirmation:
“You aren’t behind, you’re human”
“Trust your instinct, train your habits”
“Become the person you can rely on”
While I agree with these sentiments, I can’t stand having them imposed on me like a hamburger ad, especially when it’s done to promote someone’s Instagram page.
Additional enemies: Shredded coconut. All cats. People who ask me to remove my shoes in their apartment. Patchouli. Anyone who uses the word “curated” outside the context of an actual art gallery or museum.
And I wholeheartedly echo this response I received from a fellow Brooklyn journalist: “I really really really hate the color purple. Such a tacky color, the diva of colors, the Celine Dion of colors. There’s a damn good reason we rarely see a purple car or a purple house. Now if we could just get rid of purple clothing, too.”
“Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.”
— Oscar Wilde
The third most common response was to cite a specific person or group of people. Now we’re talking!
Thirteen people named our man in the White House. I did not ask them to elaborate because once people start going on about the president, they often can’t stop, and sometimes they turn weird colors.
The only other figure whose name came up more than once was Satan, who got five mentions.
Other famous names mentioned: Milton Friedman, Benjamin Netanyahu, Ronald Reagan, Barack Obama, novelist Jonathan Safran Foer and comedian Kumail Nanjiani.
And then there was Adam, a Lower East Side filmmaker I met in Washington Square Park who did not hesitate to name someone he knew personally.
“Sherry!” He said. “My worst enemy! My nemesis!”
Sherry, it seems, was the door girl at a certain club.
“She was very attitude, bougie, talking about your clothing and how you dress,” said Adam. Even worse, Sherry was mean to the other ladies in Adam’s social circle, which scared them away. He finally told her off, and they haven’t spoken since.
“You’re the first person to name someone you know personally,” I told Adam.
“Most people won’t admit they have an enemy,” Adam said. “It’s ‘Oh, I love everyone and everything!’ Not me!”
A Cobble Hill artist, meanwhile cited a fellow swimmer at the local YMCA whom she refers to as “The Tsunami.”
“This swimmer does not simply move through water; they appear to be engaged in a personal vendetta against it,” she said. “Each stroke detonates a splash large enough to irrigate a small farm and suddenly my peaceful laps become a tactical exercise in survival.”
“That F—ing Guy at Work,” was how one Manhattan professor referred to his worst enemy. “Theoretically a ‘friend’ who I find myself ruminating about. He is effective and smart and self-serving, good at amassing social power. Every meeting becomes a platform for his moral grandstanding and an exhausting filibuster. How can everyone not see this?”
Other antagonists mentioned: e-bikers invading the sidewalk, the boss, the landlord.
“Men!” said one schoolteacher relaxing in Bryant Park.
“How long have you felt that way?” I asked.
“Since I turned gay!” she said.
“For the black man in America, it’s the black man in America,” said one black man in Union Square.
“As a black man, I’d say the police,” said another.
“The system!” said an aging East Village drummer.
“Why not ‘the man?’” I wondered.
“That too!” he said.
And in a town where people are packed in tight, it’s no surprise that several respondents cited their neighbors. “I feel this primal antagonism toward the children who run and bike—yes, bike!—in our building’s admittedly boulevard-wide hallways,” one novelist friend told me. “I know this just makes me the equivalent of the guy who shouts, ‘Get off my lawn!’ But, on the plus side, I get to direct my ire to the younger generation without having to spend any of my crotchety middle age tending to an actual lawn.”
“The restaurant across the street,” said a Williamsburg dad who works in tech sales. “They make noise every weekend. They’re ruining sleep for myself and wife and our baby. I’ve gone to war with them!”
‘Whoever is in my way on a given day,” said Sydney, a West Harlem restaurant manager. “People walking too slowly on the sidewalk. The worst neighborhood is Soho, easily. But it’s the most frustrating when it’s in your own neighborhood. You’re accustomed to doing your daily routine and when someone gets in your way it’s very frustrating. It’s like, ‘I make this walk every day. I have a certain pace to maintain!’’
“Time is the enemy of the beautiful.”
— William Carlos Williams
The remaining respondents all named a non-person as their worst enemy. The most often cited? Time.
“Just the inexorable march of time toward death!” was how one West Village data analyst put it.
Folks in occupations ranging from pianist to medical editor said they didn’t have enough time or feared how quickly life is flying by.
“It’s like robbery almost,” said a Canarsie project coordinator.
“I always feel it’s working against me,” said a friend who works in finance. “I spend too much time worrying about the future or regretting the past.”
Another common theme: regret.
A 95-year-old retired schoolteacher said she wished she’d had kids. A Crown Heights woman in her 50s said she regrets staying in the same dead-end job for ten years out of fear. “If I’d pursued the job I have now earlier, I’d be further ahead in my career, more financially secure, better off emotionally,” she said.
Ignorance came up three times. Others mentioned finances, the internet, bad weather, health problems, bodily decay, climate change and, of course, death.
My favorites, however, were the folks who named the most picayune annoyance as their enemy number one.
“The food in the sink when you do dishes,” declared Anna, a Williamsburg chef. “It’s the grossest texture, when you have to handle it, take it out. Sometimes I make my roommate do it, and then I do something she doesn’t want to do, like clean the bathroom.”
“When you go to a restaurant and all the desserts are fruit,” said a Lower East Side student. “There should be a chocolate dessert.”
“Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?”
— Abraham Lincoln
So how did I feel after three days chatting with 200 people about their worst enemy?
Surprisingly great.
Hardly anyone, it seemed, sincerely had it in for anyone else—at least not that they’d admit. Most were simply trying to navigate their life and relationships as best they could, often with self-effacing humor.
And then there was Aharon, who, as you’ll recall, had named me as his worst enemy. At the time I assumed he was joking.
But after hearing about procrastination, regret, inner critics, noisy neighbors, purple clothing and the inexorable march toward death, I’m starting to think he may have simply been saving us both a lot of time.
Who—or what—is your worst enemy? Share your enmity in the comments!
CAFÉ ANNE, a free weekly newsletter about NYC, is created by Brooklyn journalist Anne Kadet. Subscribe to get the latest issue every Monday.
looove reading these responses! My worst enemy is anyone who plays their music (or even worse, their TikToks or game) out loud on public transit (including when they have headphones that don't really work so I can still hear it)
Loved this! I hate people who put their dog’s poop in the plastic poop bag and then LEAVE THE BAG on the sidewalk for someone else to dispose of! The nerve!