“It allows the passenger and driver to carry less cash and the business traveler will be able to have a receipt for tips and tolls,” explained Allan J. Fromberg, the New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission deputy commissioner for public information. To be fair, cabs were already providing receipts, but some apparently claim the microscopic print is unsuited for expense reports. “The commission, under the leadership of Mayor Rudy Giuliani, likes to anticipate ways to make life more convenient for the consumer.”

The commission has encouraged cab companies to voluntarily test the apparatus in 50 cabs across the city. Considering that 12,187 taxis (a number fixed by state legislature) roam Manhattan daily, swipe-happy travelers may be hard-pressed to find a credit-ready cab. If they do, they should know that they’re part of a six-month experiment intended to gauge customer reactions.

The news appears to have not yet reached the rank and file. One Haitian cabby, hailed on 16th Street and Fifth Avenue, replied with a smirk (and several shakes of his head) after being anxiously asked whether he accepted credit cards. “There is no such cab,” he said, driving off.

The commission may bump the number of credit card cabs to 500. Unfortunately, the process isn’t cheap: modifying a non-credit meter made by Taxitronic costs $550; installing a new system costs $950. Meanwhile, American Express and Visa are subsidizing the experiment and Taxitronics has offered financial incentives as well. (This may be why these taxis will not accept the Discover Card; MasterCard is OK.)

Taxitronic meters are also being tested in Boston, Baltimore, Chicago, Philadelphia and that particularly cab-congested town, Colorado Springs. But for New Yorkers, the concept will take some getting used to; after all, it’s hard to imagine the typical New York cabby leaning over the plexiglass partition and mumbling, “Paper or plastic?”

Ironically, it’s the tormented longing for such recognition that lies at the heart of “Being John Malkovich,” directed by rock-video veteran Spike Jonze. Kaufman’s desperate characters find solace from anonymity by sliding down a portal into John Malkovich’s brain (curiously located behind a filing cabinet on the seven-and-a-halfth floor of an office building). It doesn’t matter that they don’t know much about the actor. What’s vital to these characters is that they can finally be anyone besides themselves.

For 15 minutes the portal allows them to perch inside Malkovich’s brain, chew his toast, read his Wall Street Journal and contemplate his choice of bath towels. But only the self-loathing Craig Schwartz (endearingly morose John Cusack), a hapless puppeteer, can control Malkovich as expertly as he manipulates his wooden dolls, and once he’s inside the actor, he can finally do all the things he never could do as himself: Get the girl, acquire fame, feel power. When his icy lust interest, Maxine (Catherine Keener), and his frazzled wife, Lotte (Cameron Diaz), learn of his discovery, they too want in on Malkovich. Maxine starts a late-night business charging folks $200 a head (no pun intended) to get inside the actor’s brain, and Lotte undergoes a life-changing transformation after spending some time there.

It gets weirder. And after a while, the movie devolves into fantastical textbook jargon and ends up exhausting its fascinating premise. But there’s no doubt “Being John Malkovich” is the product of an inventive mind and an audacious eye, together tapping into deranged and freakish desires in all of us.

The DVD highlights include an interview with Jonze that imparts very little understanding of his artistry. (It does, however, show him puking by the side of the road.) It’s all part of the Kaufman/Jonze wit and mockery, but while the DVD’s special features are demented and funny, they’re disappointing for anyone craving behind-the-scenes footage.

The exception is a dressing-room interview with Phil Huber, the real-life marionette man, which draws appropriate attention to the film’s astounding puppet scenes. Perhaps it’s not the transcendent art form Craig Schwartz believes it is, but in Huber’s puppeteering — the way his marionettes cower in a defeated slump or quiver with erotic tension before a long-anticipated kiss — taut strings and dancing fingertips render something as haunting and as human as the desire to wear someone else’s skin.

With just five months to go before we choose between two similarly fortunate zygotes for president, it seems that nepotism has become a casually accepted part of American life. According to David Brooks, author of “Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There”: “People like to work at places that are familiar, or where some member of their family already works. Nepotism reigns.”

Why shouldn’t it? What overworked and compulsively busy CEO wouldn’t enjoy seeing the fruit of his loins seated beside him at the conference table, a comforting presence … and an automatic assenting vote at the next shareholders’ powwow.

But the face of nepotism is changing. More and more of it is female, which is refreshing, if only because nepotism invariably calls to mind a mogul backslapping a younger version of himself and guffawing, “That’s my boy!” Second, many young heirs now sow their black-sheep oats in the real world for a while — take Rupert Murdoch’s youngest son, James, who once ran a punk record company before returning to the nest. Daddy may have made the money, but it’s Junior who knows it’s not just about the bucks. Then again, there’s Steve Forbes.

With the children of the rich, you never know what to expect — except that they’re out there, and they’re getting older. That said, we took a look at a new crop of youngsters doomed to spend much of their lives defending themselves against charges of unmerited privilege. Herewith, a few fresh tadpoles from what Bronfman dubs “the lucky sperm club.”

Anthony Shriver, 34. Son of Peace Corps founder Sargent, brother of Maria, certified Kennedy. As knight-errant in America’s de facto royal family, Shriver didn’t really have to try very hard. Still, he tried: In 1989, he founded Best Buddies, a nonprofit mega-organization that pairs the mentally retarded with high school, college and professional mentors, while he was still a student at Georgetown University. Buddies now boasts 500 chapters in the country and overseas. At a recent fundraising dinner at his Aunt Ethel’s Virginia estate, Shriver tapped into 900 guests, many of whom were thirtysomething volunteers turned high-tech millionaires; Muhammad Ali was the guest of honor. Shriver raised $750,000 that evening.

Aerin Lauder Zinterhoefer, 29. Daughter of Ronald, the chairman of Clinique laboratories and Estie Lauder International, Zinterhoefer now serves as director of creative product development for the family company. She’s also theprincess of Park Avenue, a leader of the Prada-clad young establishment who spend their evenings looking perfect and being philanthropic — much of her energy is spent at fundraising galas and auction benefits. In the fashion biz, looking glamorous and attending five functions a week is part of the game. As the young cosmetic queen told the New York Times, “When your name is on the door, you really take pride and passion in the business.”

Robert Soros, 36. Son of George, the 69-year-old head of Soros Fund Management who recently pared down his enterprise and increased his son’s power. Though Soros the elder denied charges of dynastic succession, he did tell the Wall Street Journal that Robert will be “the power behind the throne.” As usual, many upper-level execs have expressed concern over the New York University grad’s ability to lead the fund. Nevertheless, Soros has already scored one for the team: He invested in WebTV before it was bought by Microsoft.

Gabby Karan, 26. Daughter of designer extraordinaire Donna. The younger Karan used to play dress-up in her mother’s closet; now she helps dress the “younger, hipper generation” with DKNY and a highly lucrative jeans line. As Donna Karan recently confessed to Katie Couric, “I think for all of us, you’re a mother, the only thing you want for your child is to be happy. And it really is a family company. For my family not to be involved, it was — sort of hard.”

Bill Ford Jr., 42. Nepotism has already proven ill-fated for the Ford family: Henry II was plagued with bad judgment and carelessness. When Bill Ford drifted toward the chairman position, then CEO and president Alex Trotman reportedly said, “So now you have your monarchy back, Prince William.” But Bill Ford is no spoiled prince. The great-grandson of Henry is a throwback, a family man and a caring employer. He’s also an ardent environmentalist — quite an internal conflict for a company that profits largely off of sport utility vehicles. In a “corporate citizenship report” at the annual shareholder’s meeting, Ford admitted that SUVs pollute the air more than cars and vowed to clean it up. Somehow, this Ford wants to temper the industrialism of his great-grandpa with his own socially responsible ideals.

Jessica Bibliowicz, 39. Daughter of Sandy Weill, the chairman of Citigroup. Bibliowicz left her father’s Smith Barney after a controversial squabble with his prized second man, Jamie Dimon. (Dimon later left the firm.) Last year, she became CEO of National Financial Partners, a money management corporation for the exceedingly wealthy.

Tiffany Dubin, 34. Stepdaughter of A. Alfred Taubman, who bought Sotheby’s in 1982 and remains chairman. Another socialite in the Zinterhoefer vein, she faces frequent charges of nepotism, but Dubin has claimed she worked her way up like anyone else. As a teen, she filled in for Sotheby’s receptionists; after college she worked there as a personal shopper (although, in between, it did take her seven years to earn her bachelor’s degree from Georgetown). As head of the fashion department, Dubin challenged Sotheby’s resolutely classic style with trendy collections of flea market chic. Now, she’s left her family comfort zone: Dubin was recently named vice president of marketing at the Auction Channel, an e-commerce and television company.

Donald Trump Jr., 22. Having graduated this May from his father’s alma mater, the Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania, it remains to be seen whether the young Donald will take part in his father’s Manhattan empire. Sister Ivanka has staked her claim in the modeling world.

Jennifer and Rory Gates, 4 and 1. No word yet on entrepreneurial ability.

Chase Manhattan joins other defectors such as Goldman Sachs, PaineWebber, Salomon Smith Barney, Merrill Lynch, Deloitte & Touche, Morgan Stanley Dean Witter, Lehman Bros. and several other financial powerhouses, all of which have established or are pursuing outposts in New Jersey. When this Who’s Who of Wall Street sets up shop over the next two years, Jersey City will be home to about 20,000 professionals, according to Tom Gallagher, the mayor’s chief of staff.

The emergence of “Wall Street West” — or as some call it, New York’s sixth borough — has put the Big Apple on alert. Manhattan may still be the world’s premier financial center, but Jersey City’s rapid growth is making everyone from New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani to Gov. George Pataki sweat. New York last year boosted its marketing budget from $674,000 to $4.5 million to attract and keep businesses in the Empire State, and Sen. Charles Schumer recently brought together business and community leaders to brainstorm ways to stem the bleeding.

“We’ve gotten the wake-up call that we have to do more,” says Mitchell Moss, the group’s co-chairman and director of New York University’s Taub Urban Research Center. “We have to be more aggressive.”

Here’s the main reason for the migration: Real estate in Manhattan is simply too expensive, and space is insufficient to accommodate growth. It’s about 25 percent cheaper to build in New Jersey, and prime New York office space now leases for $50 a square foot — almost double the price in Jersey City. The Garden State also offers generous tax incentives, and developers there are completing state-of-the-art office towers in about 18 months.

In fairness, New Jersey has long had its share of impressive financial tenants. But last December, when Goldman Sachs decided to build a 45-story tower on 2.4 million square feet in Newport, many saw the firm’s announcement as the bombshell that would forever change the state’s destiny. After all, if the country’s snootiest investment bank sees its future there, shouldn’t it be good enough for everyone else?

Not quite. So far, most firms have moved only their so-called back support to Jersey — lowly tech people, number crunchers and the like. Well-heeled investment bankers, brokers and top execs are holding on tightly to their 212 area code, and the big kahunas of the financial world adamantly maintain that they have no current plans to uproot themselves from the Street.

So while New Jersey may be growing, it still hasn’t shed its stepsister image or created a business culture that garners respect. As one Merrill Lynch employee puts it: “If a client flew in from Tokyo, we’re not going to take him to Jersey City and say, ‘Here’s our offices.’” He’d think, ‘What the hell is this?’”

So what the hell is New Jersey?

A quick trip across the river on the clean, efficient PATH train or on an inexpensive ferry leaves you at Jersey City’s Exchange Place station with a monument welcoming you to … “Siberia.” It’s not until you get up close that you realize it’s memorializing Polish citizens, not making a bad Jersey joke.

Step outside and luxury high-rises come into view, reminiscent of suburban Dallas or Phoenix. Corporate towers line a four-block expanse, boasting stunning views of Manhattan. Few cars roam the wide streets; coifed professionals and sneaker-wearing secretaries freely meander the sidewalks.

The skeletons of the soon-to-be-completed office complexes bring to mind what Epcot Center’s version of “Corporateland” might look like. A distant dilapidated warehouse is one of the only reminders of the old, grungy Jersey City. But judging from the bulldozers and cleared land, you get a sense that even that holdout will be replaced by another shiny masterpiece.

Only a few restaurants are tucked into the glassy buildings, mostly chains ` la TGI Friday’s. One of the only happening after-work spots is the Iron Monkey, a surprisingly stylish bistro.

On a recent afternoon, a middle-aged, khaki-clad crowd gathered to watch the Mets, drink Harp on draft and dine on $9 avocado ceviche. Bartender Benjamin Sherman, who could name only five other bars in the area, says the weekday clientele consists “mostly of suits and not enough women.”

Jersey City’s younger set tends to rush back to Manhattan for happy hour. A young, slick-haired Merrill Lynch analyst was indignant when asked where one could get a drink in Jersey City. “Oh, I would have no idea. I live in Manhattan.”

To be fair, many people working in “America’s Golden Door” love their digs, especially if they live outside Manhattan. Their commutes are more palatable, and they no longer have to deal with crowds and congestion. One New York consultant said it’s common for his stressed-out colleagues in Manhattan to “head over the river to get some work done.”

The escape from the Wall Street rat race is one explanation for this westerly migration. But there’s also a freshness about Jersey City. There’s grass here, along with volleyball and basketball courts and terraces for barbecuing. You can stroll on new red-brick streets without fear of facing road-raged cabdrivers or an asthma attack. Granted, you might have difficulty finding a decent martini, but the trade-offs are worth it to more laid-back types. “There are many people who like a city environment and many people who are drawn to suburban campuses,” said Joe Cohen, a Merrill Lynch spokesman. “But as the work culture evolves, it’ll be interesting to see where the emphasis is placed.”

Merrill Lynch has certainly helped inspire the evolution. The company now has 11,000 employees scattered over different sites in New Jersey, while 10,000 work in Manhattan. The company is building a new facility in Jersey City, and several thousand jobs will be added to that site over the next few years, Cohen says.

This future doesn’t bode well for New York, but no one’s panicking — yet. “We’re kind of fortunate because the economy is doing well,” says Neville Bugwadio, senior vice president of corporate marketing for the Empire State Development Corp., a state agency charged with attracting and retaining businesses. “Even if businesses are leaving, there are plenty of others wanting to come in.”

But if the economy slows and New York’s key corporate tenants continue to take advantage of New Jersey’s vigorous wooing, the Empire State could well be vulnerable.

New York still is the world’s financial, media, arts and entertainment mecca. But it can’t rest on its laurels and let New Jersey continue to snag prime tenants — at least not without a fight, Bugwadio says. “We have to keep building an image of New York as the preeminent place for business.”

Moss says one of New York’s biggest problems is its bureaucracy. While New Jersey is known for speedy delivery of custom-designed high-rises, Moss says, New York has lagged in developing its few vacant lots (particularly those on the far western edges of neighborhoods like Chelsea). “New York City has allowed the West Side to become underused, while Jersey has been dangling tax incentives and providing large parcels of land.”

Earlier this year, New Jersey approved a $200 million package of incentives to attract corporations. Chase Manhattan will reportedly directly benefit from this generosity, enjoying corporate income tax credits, grants for employee training and relief from sales tax on equipment and building materials. All that, and Springsteen, too.

David Schenkel, managing director at the CB Richard Ellis real estate brokerage in New Jersey, says there’s no denying that a significant shift has taken place. “It’s an evolution that’s nowhere near the end. New Jersey has a great future.”

No word yet on whether Chase Manhattan plans a name change.

Meanwhile, if you happened to be in the audience at one of Edwin Nichols’ “cultural awareness” seminars, you might have been shocked — and, well, a bit offended — to hear him say whites “count and measure” their way to knowledge, while Asians “know through striving toward transcendence,” whatever that means. And as for blacks, Latinos and Arabs — Nichols says their “highest value lies in the interpersonal relationship among men.”

He also reportedly told a group of federal employees: “We can’t ask non-whites to maintain ‘white’ standards. If a pair of black employees arrives late for a meeting, it’s not because they don’t have the company’s best interests in mind. They may have been chatting in the hallway, developing those personal relationships.”

Robyn E. Blummer, a columnist at the St. Petersburg (Fla.) Times, says what Nichols spews is “a bunch of racist drivel.” “Training like this seems to me to be a sure-fire way to engender racial and gender antagonism and reinforce some of the very negative stereotypes that it was supposed to correct,” she wrote in a column.

And Nichols doesn’t come cheap. The p.c. guru reportedly charges $20,000 to $35,000 for a “cultural audit,” or an assessment of a company’s discriminatory practices and attitudes.

But with the proliferation of discrimination lawsuits in the workplace, corporations have no qualms about dishing out five figures to a guy like Nichols. At least that way, no one could accuse them of not trying to promote harmony.