Give me my money back, you bitch!

I've come to the conclusion that men in Israel shop at exactly one store (it's called FOX), and they've purchased all of the black short sleeved t-shirts in the country.

So I got a job. Actually, I got two jobs, but I'm still working up the courage to reject a job offer in another language. The first job offer came from a cafe down the street. They are in need of waiters, and I was in need of employment, so it seemed to be a good fit. Something that I've come to better understand through this process, though, is that it's completely critical to nudge people in this country if you ever want anything to happen. To wit, the first time I stopped by the cafe, I left my name for the manager and I was promised that he would call me in short order. A week later, without hearing from him, I returned to the cafe and asked to speak with him. I exchanged four words with him and learned that he was far too busy to speak with me at that time, but received assurances that I would be hearing from him that night. Now, in America, if you reach this point, you wait around for a few days, expecting a phone call that will almost certainly arrive. In Israel, it seems, that call just doesn't come. Ever. So the next day I decided I would drop by to see whether the manager had time for me. I waited a bit, then we talked things over (him in fluent Hebrew, me in somewhat less fluent Hebrew), and he said he needed to think it over and that he'd get back to me. I gave him the benefit of a day and a half before I showed up again. He said that I got the job, but he couldn't give me any details then. He promised to call me. When I came back later that afternoon, he found time to talk to me and told me that he needed a waiter, and asked me if I thought my Hebrew was up to par. Without thinking, I ironically replied in broken Hebrew that it wouldn't be a bit of an issue. The lesson here is that persistence to the point of what we in America consider obnoxiousness is not only NOT considered impolite, but it's pretty much a required way of life.

A few days later, on the day my training was set to begin, I spent an afternoon on a quest for the aforementioned black t-shirt (the standard cafe uniform 'round these parts). My first stop was the Mega Mall, named for the mega-sized Mega market in the basement. I went into a number of stores, and found only FOX selling a selection of men's clothing. I spent 20 minutes going through their shelves trying to find a plain black shirt. To no avail. I then ducked my head into a handful of other stores that I couldn't immediately identify from the outside as to whether they sold men's clothes in addition to women's clothes. When I couldn't make a clear decision after four to six seconds, I bolted. Yes, I could have asked, but I'd have been embarassed to ask such a question in my native language, let alone in Hebrew where I'm finding that I stutter lately when I speak to Israelis. For the next couple of hours, this scene repeated itself in two other malls and a couple of discount stores. I finally found my black t-shirt in a store that I nearly walked out of before spotting men's underwear on my way out. Honestly, I probably went into 20 stores, and no more that four of them sold men's clothing. I never thought I'd have a stronger urge for the simplicity and clarity of choice presented in a place like the Gap. Ugh, typing that last sentence made me throw up in my mouth a little. And hey, re-reading it had the same effect. Try it at home, kids!

Later that afternoon, a couple of hours before I was set to begin my training, I stopped by a different cafe where I remembered seeing a sign that they were looking for people. I asked for the manager, had an interview, and within eight minutes I was scheduled for a week of training starting this past Saturday. I am assuming that this is the rare circumstance in Israel where desparation on the part of the employer trumped the standard persistence challenges. In this place, everyone does everything, but everyone starts in the kitchen. Which is okay by me. Shortly after I walked out of the second cafe, I got a call from the first cafe asking if I could reschedule my training for a later date. Done and done. Have I talked to cafe #1 since? Not exactly. I know, I have to get on that.

As for cafe #2, I've worked two nights of training, and I'll save any observations for a time when I've gotten a little better feel of the place. But it's going good so far.

In other news, my visa expires in a month, and I have to figure out somewhere to go. It has to be inexpensive, not too cold, and yes, I've already ruled out Jordan.

In other other news, if the Eagles don't come through for me when I wake up tomorrow morning at 4am to watch them play, I may consider a boycott for the rest of the season. But don't hold me to that.

And finally, the avalanche of visitors in only about a month away. If you're coming to visit, drop me a line and let me know when you'll be here, what you like on your falafel, etc. We'll make sure we do it right.