does making a lot of money make you behave badly?

"as a person's levels of wealth increase, their feelings of compassion and empathy go down, and their feelings of deservingness, entitlement and their ideology of self-interest increase."

paul piff at berkeley did a TEDtalk called, "does money make you mean?" (watch the video of the monopoly game, it's hilarious). the video came out in december of last year, but on february 2, there was an op-ed in the ny times called, "how inequality hollows out the soul."

what does that mean in real life? (a picture on zach vella's instagram feed shows a naked girl - or is that me - tortured and bound to a mercedes symbol. her hands and feet appear to be bleeding.

a reporter from a major news source called me and asked what was going on with

zach vella (my next door neighbor and the developer) and the condo project beside me, 11 north moore, which is getting quite a lot of attention with its $40 million penthouse apartment. the real estate agent representing it is fredrik eklund, whose second claim to fame is the reality show, the real deal. leo dicaprio, amongst others, famously toured the sales office.

paul piff found that more wealthy people were "able to moralize greed being good and the pursuit of self-interest being favorable and moral..."

the video came out in december of last year, but on february 2, there was an op-ed in the ny times called, "how inequality hollows out the soul."

"Paul Piff, also a psychologist at Berkeley, has shown that higher status is indeed associated with more unethical and narcissistic behavior. Mr. Piff found that drivers of more expensive cars were less likely to give way to pedestrians or to other cars. Higher status people were also more likely to help themselves to candies that they had been told were intended for children. He found that they also had a greater sense of entitlement and were less generous."

my youngest daughter is a serious student. she is always responsible, shockingly bright and very hardworking. getting into a great college is what keeps her up at night and she just turned 15. 

friday morning, i woke with a jolt thinking her alarm hadn't gone off. i jumped, but then realized that the light had changed and i was mistaken. so i said, "don't worry, you can still sleep for ten minutes."

she answered, "it's 6:58 and i've told you over and over that i wake up at 7:15! it is 6:58 so i still have 17 minutes to sleep - not TEN minutes!"

me: "what difference does it make if it is 17 or 10 minutes? in the end, it doesn't matter how smart you are or what college you get into if you are making other people feel small or stupid or taken advantage of."

i told her (like i tell all my kids) that the most important thing they can be is considerate to other people.

then the construction workers started shouting and banging in front of my bedroom window and it occurred to me that, in today's world, it's simply not true. 

many successful, wealthy people are quite comfortable taking advantage of or hurting the people who seem "unimportant" to them from the doorman to their less fortunate neighbors.

that ability to believe yourself "above" ethical or compassionate behavior - or even traffic rules - is now standard amongst the american wealthy. look at lisa demack who drove her mercedes through a stop sign and hit an ambulance. or the wealthy texas boy who killed four people and was acquitted because he suffered "affluenza."  (his parents could probably afford a very good lawyer).

the idea that there is opportunity (or even justice) for an ordinary person - wait, middle-class, college-educated, living in expensive real estate - is a lie. clearly, i am not a poor person, but i am disempowered.

the u.s. today is more like a developing country. anyone who has lived in asia or latin america or africa knows that the only life that is really valuable is the life of an upperclass person.

so, after offering to clean up the flood, rent my apartment and fix it up, give me the money for the repairs or even talk to me - what happened? um, nothing. zach vella went on holiday in the caribbean. AFTER hanging an enormous sign for his project on the scaffolding outside my building.

my lawyer asked for them to pay for the repairs or at, the very least, follow up on all their offers. they simply ignored him. without a lot more money to pay for legal fees, they knew i wasn't going to do more than make demands. 

oh, and zach put his OWN apartment on the market. (been wondering what all guys carrying marble in and out were doing. it would be $20-40,000 to return my apartment to its previous state - how hard would it have been to do it at the same time?

the end of the TEDtalk cheered me up. it IS possible for the 1% to feel compassion, as long as they faced it.

did i mention i briefly saw zach on the street two weeks' ago? he avoided me and rushed across the street to his big black SUV. (however, i do have plenty of friends who prove that the 1% are capable of kindness and compassion)

the truth is, none of us are perfect. we've all made mistakes or been inconsiderate, but taking responsibility for your actions, with compassion and empathy should not be restricted to the 99%.

 

The Crying Game: 9 North Moore vs Zach Vella (and Saif Sumaida)

"nothing is what it seems to be."  never play the crying game with a blogger.

talk about constantly shifting identities - the personality-types involved in multimillion dollar deals are the most bizarre in nyc.

admittedly, i'm one of the 99%. don't know lots of those people. except zach vella. 

last summer, zach's a friendly new neighbor i meet on the sidewalk. here's the email he sent me.

From: Zach Vella
Date: June 8, 2012 7:57:44 PM EDT
To: "'ameenameer@gmail.com'"

Good meeting you. If you are interested in speaking about your ground floor space please let me know.

Best,

Zach Vella
212 686 2500

after sandy, after his development floods my apartment, he's the invisible man. not returning my phone calls, emails, not even the notes i leave with his doorman when i see him encased in black spandex, heading off for a run.

a freezing winter morning, after i write a blogpost about what a nightmare my life is - he's bristling mad that i had dared to write about him.  i figure, he's on the million dollar listing on bravo, he isn't publicity-shy. (on the street, he keeps murmuring about a woman whose wall he put a nail through. he offered to repair the wall but she sued him for all this money and, of course, she lost everything. he looks at me pointedly as he says this, though i miss the implication.)

a month later, i get a phone call, "hey, it's zach!" like we are best friends and i've been expecting his call all day. "are you still interested in renting your place? i just wanted to let you know i spoke to the partners and we are serious."

april 2 (day AFTER april fool's day, when i should have been wiser), zach came to the storefront to talk about how bad he felt about everything that happened. he was so sorry, he really just wanted to help me. the chain of command being what it was, he couldn't pay me himself, but he would be willing to give me a personal loan, out of his own pocket, until the insurance paid for the repairs. (i had actually emailed him the claim denials of all three insurance companies already.)

then, he said he had an idea that would be great for both of us. the development company would rent the entire space for a year, do a renovation that would repair all the apartment damage and pay me upfront for the stuff i lost. then they could use my space as a sales office and model apartment for their new development.

i am blown away. a perfect solution. "that is so kind of you, i would happy to do that," i said. "just so i can figure out my kids and my adjust my schedule - what's your time frame for that?"

zach said, "a month, a month-and-a-half at most."

i changed my mind about him. he was trying to do his best in a difficult situation.

a couple of artists planned a show of paintings and sculptures in the storefront in may. we'd been discussing it since last year. i cancelled the show.

out of courtesy, i didn't write any more blogposts because i knew it made him uncomfortable. i would wait til it was resolved and write something kind. (though the one about zach got over 1500 hits).

our emails:
  
From: Ameena Meer [mailto:ameenameer@gmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, April 02, 2013 08:20 PM
To: Zach Vella
Subject: thank you

it was great talking to you tonight.

i really appreciate your taking the time to address the issue.

i'm looking at the options - can you give me an idea of what you think the rent would be for a space like this?

thanks again,
ameena

On Apr 3, 2013, at 8:51 AM, Zach Vella wrote:

I will ask our broker but I think you should ask a couple yourself so we you are comfortable with the number

april 17: i put my apartment on the market to give him a number to work with.

ok weird.

may: he finally contacted my broker. he was traveling in africa. obviously doing good works in the developing world, he just wanted to be sure i wasn't going to write anything about him. in the meantime, no further offer of the loan either.

june 6, i'm fed up. nice and patient isn't working. send him a text saying that if he doesn't want me to write about his presence in my life, he needs to get this over with. (don't want to talk because obviously he's only good for what he puts in writing - plus my life is insane.)

he accuses me of extortion.

at this point, i don't care what he thinks. also, i cannot remove my blog as it provides important information for people with cancer.

he says: send me the damages.

for the 10th time, i send him the list - it consists of the destroyed stuff, the plumbing and electrical repairs, and last year's bills for the mold clean-up (subtracting the cost of the upstairs) and the re-build. being a good neighbor, i don't ask him for relocation costs while the work is done.

On Jun 10, 2013, at 11:17 AM, "Ameena Meer" wrote:

hi zach -

as per our conversation on saturday, here is the cost of the repairs.

as we spoke at the beginning of april, the flood happened in november of last year, i feel i've been quite patient.

i would appreciate some response within 24 hours.

i am forwarding you the same email my real estate sent you last week.

thank you,
ameena

On Jun 10, 2013, at 12:23 PM, Zach Vella wrote:

Received

24 hours x 4, no response.  i text again.

bizarrely, he forwards a release. it holds him and his company blameless for everything and i can never write about him or them again. the place for the number is left blank.

this morning, he calls the broker to tell him that his own basement flooded, it was cheap and easy to have it all repaired - my costs are way too high. zach offers me "a loan" for $14,000 - a little over a quarter of the cost of the damages. (in return, i have to delete my blog - which is usually used as an clearing house for alternative cancer information).

i should add that given this drama - my second major flood in two years - means that no insurance carrier will give me coverage for the next three years.

oh, one of the brokers on the million dollar listing is being investigated by the f.b.i. and had been photoshopping new kitchens and floors into his apartment listings.

oh so that's how it works.

want a writer to stop writing? you have to take off the costume.

UPDATE: for everyone who's asking. i decided to stop trying to mr. vella and his business to court. it wasn't worth the time, attention or the money. i sold my place and moved away from rat-infested tribeca. now it's his karma to live with. i wish him all the best.

2 amazons @ 9 North Moore St.

the amazons have started a rock band.

it was really a matter of time. when my third daughter was born, my friend hilton als gave a me a card that said, "congratulations, you have a girl group."

zarina started singing before she could really speak. i remember her, at a year-and-a-quarter, shaking her head back and forth on the changing table and making noises.

i said, "zarina, what's that?"

she looked at me and said, as most toddlers do, something unintelligible. i asked her a few more times before i understood what she was trying to say: "elmo song!"

rara started playing music on a box with rubber bands on it, we had to record a whole series of her songs. from there, she graduated to a ukelele and eventually, a guitar. despite being forced to take piano lessons in between, she returned to the guitar.

here they are - zarina and rara on vocals, rara on guitar.

the rest is, as they say, history...

note to zach vella and foundations group, real people live here.

11 N Moore St - Zach Vella and Saif Sumaida Update

i don't have money or influence, but at least i can write (or type into my laptop)! thanks to tribeca citizen and curbedny, my blogpost about having my kids' bedrooms flooded by a developer got real attention.

i discovered this when i ran into zach vella on my street last saturday.

it was one of those hideous, freezing weekend mornings (rara had had a sleepover the night before and no one got any sleep). i'd gone out to walk the dog in uggs with polar fleece over my pajamas, eyes puffy, coconut oil slathered on my face and my big furry hat to hide under. convinced myself i'd dash in and out without seeing anyone.

of course, zach was out too. i contemplated running inside and putting on mascara, especially since i heard he was a reality real estate tv star, on the million dollar listing. (on the trailer says, a broker says, "zach vella is great, great developer!")

"hi... zach!" i said.

zach glared at me, "you have some nerve! all that stuff you wrote on your blog about me and my kid - now you're talking to me?"

i felt guilty because it's not fair to blame the entire debacle on zach vella. it's just that it's his project and he lives right next door so i thought i could actually talk to him. i figured he was the boss.

me: actually, i didn't write anything terrible about you personally. i just wondered why you didn't return my phone calls or my emails. your construction crew flooded my apartment and then you guys disappeared.

zv: look, i'm not trying to pass the buck, but it's not my problem. i mean, i hired a construction company and it's really their job to deal with it.

me: but it is your project, isn't it? you're the boss.

zv: of course, i'm the boss. but it's not appropriate for me to deal with it... you're ruining my life with your blog. i mean, i have to live here. 

i guess it's like blaming the social security administration on the president. he's the boss but he's not the guy who writes the checks, i think that's what he was saying.


he was unshaven and wearing a sleek black nylon jacket with lots of zippers and kept putting his hands in and out of the pockets. (if it had been another moment, i would have asked where he bought it). i hate confrontation anyway and he looked so unhappy. there was a big black SUV parked across the street waiting for him and the woman who was in the car kept yelling for him to hurry up.

me: i have to live here too. i am a single mother, recovering from cancer, all i'm asking is for you to do the right thing... like return my calls or my emails... or the notes i've left with your doorman. i am supersensitive to mold.

zv: you know, i spoke to my lawyers...

i thought he'd spoken to his lawyers about how to resolve it, but he went on to say that he'd spoken to his lawyers about suing me for defamation of character.

he added that he didn't think it was legal for me to live there anyway.

then he tapped on the window of another enormous SUV. "excuse me, why are you parked here?" the driver assured him he was just waiting for someone in the building.

me: you can't sue me for defamation - i didn't write anything negative about you. i just said, you looked perfectly nice and then you didn't respond.

(wait - was his idea that if he could prove my living conditions were illegal, he could destroy them with impunity? i was trying desperately not to be judgemental.)


zv: well, there are a lot of people who don't like me for different reasons. i mean, i had a business partner and it didn't work out and we parted ways and he's not happy with the way it went, and then i got divorced... people use the opportunity to post comments about me.

me: that's just the nature of the internet. people use the anonymity to say things that they'd be embarrassed to say themselves*.

(the really funny thing is that now zach - or one of his friends - now posts DAILY anonymous posts on my blog about my divorce debacle or my being a muslim. i smile every time. i was deleting them but i'm getting tired of it.)

anyway, the conversation ended with zach taking my cell phone number and promising to call saif sumaida, his muslim contractor.

on wednesday, when i hadn't heard anything, i emailed zach and saif myself. i said how relieved i was to talk to zach in person and that i hoped we could resolve it.

saif sumaida emailed immediately. he said he hadn't heard a word from zach. he sounded sincere in wanting to resolve the issue. he asked me for the list of the damages.

i told him i greatly appreciated his having sent me a check for a little over $3,000 but the costs were more like $40,000 if we did a professional mold removal and then a re-build.

which we JUST did less than a year ago.


he told me he wanted to help me. he told me to be patient because the insurance company was handling it. "these things take time..."

when i explained that, during that time (three months and counting), three girls had to live there,
he kindly offered to give me a check for a few of the damages. he said the best he could do was $5,000 out of his own pocket, if i would just sign a small release that held him and his company blameless for all past and future damage.

saif said he'd come over and inspect the place himself. 

the release was a little odd because he sent it along with a copy of my itemized list of damages, slightly improved on a little excell spreadsheet.

honestly, i'd  be thrilled to meet him but i asked what he wanted to see in the apartment since i was running around last week.

i said, i can't sign that release. i guess i'll just have to sue you for the costs. my apartment is getting moldy.

(i guess i'll keep calling the dept of buildings. every week, the DoB sends a person out who looks around, tells me that the contractors have filed a claim with their insurance so there's nothing more to be done and writes ME a violation for my apartment being moldy.)

saif sumaida emailed back: Good Luck.

on friday, more water poured in to the basement of our building... the power of my pen seems to have been short lived.

wonder what happened next? not at all what i expected, the crying game

the c-word: the immaterial girl & zach vella

see the tiny building on the right, that's where i live. the big glass one on the left is imaginary but its already causing havoc.

typical nyc story - an ordinary person versus a real estate mogul. a developer (zach vella, who also ended becoming my next door neighbor), in the process of building a new property, damages a nearby property. i met zach because his little boy, with regal air, was telling all the other little kids on the sidewalk that HIS dad owned the whole building.

zach looks so nice, doesn't he?

zach apologized for his son and walked over and looked at my apartment. we even had a conversation about his possibly renting it as a sales office or buying the whole thing and attaching it to the new building.

it's difficult, on our cramped little island, to build. but when you are building apartments that sell for $6 million on the low end, you might be careful of your neighbors (especially single mothers recovering from cancer with already stretched incomes and tiny apartments).

on november 8, i came home to MY kids' room 6 inches' deep in muddy water, so i pulled on my big yellow boots and ran screaming into the building site next door.

the site supervisor and a bunch of guys came in and apologized and promised to pay for everything they destroyed.

they also promised to come and help clean up. i didn't realize how often this happens. (like the story of this photographer in chelsea), i believed them and i was still being nice.

rara's bedroom entrance and my famous yellow rubber boots

needless to say, two days' later, i was on my hands and knees with a bucket of hot water and some mold killing product, scraping the mud off the floor.  i basically spent an entire weekend, with some help from the housekeeper and the amazons, without seeing daylight. two laptops were totally submerged, one filled with college applications in-process.

this whole floor was replaced last january.

no one showed up.

a few days' later, i had a pleasant conversation with jim longson, at zach vella's company. he was kind, friendly and reassuring. he told me they would "make me whole." he suggested i hire mold remediators immediately and told me simply to send them all the bills.

i did. but after that, jim longson didn't take my calls. two weeks' later, he sent me an email suggesting i call my home owner's insurance. i called good old state farm. the adjuster came over and spoke to the site supervisor who told him he thought the water came in through the sidewalk. fortunately for me, my condo policy specifically says they do not cover water that comes in through the sidewalk. or the foundation of my building. the contractor, saif sumaida, whose company, foundations group, is doing the work had someone tell me that they had informed their insurance. charles iulo, a guy who worked for him, reiterated that they would do nothing, but he did say, "i urge you to contact your insurance."

here's family man, saif, who doesn't return my calls either.

in the meantime, the water shortcircuited the electricity downstairs which meant the pump died and the toilet waste emptied into the shower turning the entire downstairs into a giant, reeking cesspool.

in staten island, days after sandy, i walked past one home after the other with the mudsoaked contents spilling out on to the sidewalk, enormous piles of the stuff of 21st-century lives. wet clothes, plastic toys, dishwashers, washing machines, refrigerators, books, artwork. it slid down into the mud and channels of water mixed with sewage that filled the roads.

i was so grateful that i had escaped the storm, that i went to staten island to rip out drywall turned to putty by water, empty out bathrooms, pull off baseboard and wallpaper. the stench and the pervading damp seemed to permeate my body for days afterwards. and the mud seemed impossible to remove from my coat and boots.

helping people in staten island, coney island and rockaway made the transience of objects and the fragility of our lives so much clearer. i wanted to get rid of everything i owned.

so, of course, i was given an easy way to do that. three days after my electricity and internet was restored, my most precious things were destroyed.

all the beautiful indian clothes - the old brocades that my grandmother had bought back when my grandfather was indian ambassador to japan, that had made my wedding gharara, the lehngas and saris and ghararas that had been stored in a steamer trunk for safekeeping - were drenched and soaked in mud. the stuffed toys and mementos that i had saved from their infancy (you know, the baby clothes sasha came home from the hospital in, the leopard that zarina gave rara when her head was cracked) not to mention their current clothes and homework and shoes, and the floor was buckled.

all these clothes were destroyed. i can't afford to pick up the rest from the drycleaner.

what is worse, of course, is the mold. which makes the girls cough all night unless the air purifier is blasting into their bedrooms and the dehumidifier along with the allergen killing blue light is on 24-hours' a day.

even my doctor at memorial sloan kettering says i need to get out of there. mold is especially bad for people who've had chemotherapy.

i've called the department of buildings repeatedly, i've spoken to community board one, to the new state attorney general's office, julie menin who is running for manhattan borough president, and no one seems to be able to do anything.

i went to see a very impressive and reassuring lawyer, adam leitman bailey, who said, "it's an open-and-shut case. they admitted liability. they realize they don't have to do anything. you just need to show them, they can't ignore the little guy." he was happy to take on the case. unfortunately, he required a $10,000 retainer. gulp.

one kid in college, another one starting in september and two years' worth of bills a mile high.

i tried to hit up a client who hadn't paid me for a couple of years, no luck.

AUGH. in the meantime, in what seems like an anachronistic paradigm, the new york city real estate industry celebrates its moneymaking heroes, like zach vella. isn't conscious capitalism the new buzz word?

so here's what happened next: amazons of nyc: 11 N Moore St - Zach Vella and Saif Sumaida Update