In Which Discomfort Becomes Empowerment, the Resident Becomes a Tourist, and the Soprano Becomes a Librarian

So, it has been a while since my last post. You all know by now that I started working at Arcaffé, a Starbucks-in-disguise that was founded by my honorary relative. What you may not have heard is that for a long while I was not, per se, the branch’s happiest employee. While I am generally an upbeat person, the corporate, soulless aspect of the company that I was working for was beginning to take its toll on me. I have worked at a café once before, but where at the Bakehouse I got encouragement, here I get criticism; where at the Bakehouse we would tackle problems together, here every person who thinks that he or she is in charge barks orders at everyone else, until the cacophony of conflicting orders and instructions could out-distance the Twilight Bark; and where at the Bakehouse I immediately befriended all of the employees, here, about two months in, I still have not learned everyone’s names.  

One of the questions that I have been asked most frequently over the past two months is “with the number of cafés, restaurants, and pubs in Tel Aviv, why on earth would you want to stay in a job that you find frustrating and unwelcoming??” And you know what? I really don’t have a good answer to that question. But I have felt that it would not be right to walk out of something, even when it is so distant from my actual dreams and ambitions, because of initial discomfort. I decided, then, to stick it out for a while to see if it would get better.   

While there are some people I still find to be unnecessarily rude and brusque at the branch, the social aspect of the job has improved. The other employees are beginning to treat me like one of them (for example, I knew I was in when one day, on my break, while I was eating and reading the paper, one of the baristas pushed the newspaper into my face every single time he walked by my table – an action that was socially encouraging, if a little annoying). Furthermore, I have passed my three written tests and have been allowed to upgrade to cashier, which has allowed me some actual interaction with real people – no offense to my coworkers – and has made the time pass much more quickly. Finally, though, and most rewarding of all, the branch manager went out of his way to come over to me and give me a compliment – a phenomenon that I have not witnessed from him since the day I first donned my white-collared shirt, apron, and the “passione d’espresso” pin with my name on it. To paraphrase the Hebrew, he told me that “it is such a pleasure to watch [me] during my shifts. [I] am friendly with the customers, always have a smile on [my] face, talk to people and connect with them on their level, and make them want to come back.” He thanked me for my attitude and told me to keep up the good work.   

Overall, I feel very empowered. I took a situation that was out of both my comfort zone and my personal interest level and turned it into something positive. While there are still people there that make me want to scream and smash one of the fifteen or so different varieties of cups that we use on the floor (all of which I was tested on and get yelled at for mixing up, despite the fact that sometimes the only difference in the beverage is the amount of foam), I am starting to reach a point where I’ve realized that I can turn negative feedback into positive energy, and personally channel it into motivation rather than frustration. That, as far as I’m concerned, is an important lesson and I am glad, even in such vexing conditions, that I got a chance to learn it. 

In other news, I had, last week, my first international visitor! (I am, of course, excluding my family in this statement.  International they may be, but visitors they are not.) My dear school friend Jessi burst through the metaphorical wall of her academic institution, despite the resistance from the guards and surrounding officers, and spent her spring break, masters-free, frolicking in the Holy Land.   

Jessi’s visit, as well as being oodles of fun and such a pleasure for me, also marked an important shift in my mindset. I knew that Tel Aviv, and really Israel in general, was a fantastic place to live; but seeing the country through fresh – and EXTREMELY enthusiastic – eyes made me appreciate it all over again. (And I really mean enthusiastic – I have never in my life seen someone get so excited over a Super Pharm.) It was a perfect blend of hard-hitting tourism (the old city of Jerusalem, camel-riding, Herod’s Masada fortress, the Dead Sea…) and relaxing vacation activities (good food, lounging on the beach, and aptly-timed Purim celebrations). Over the course of the week, as Jessi will attest, I frequently uttered the phrase “Wow! I can’t believe I actually live here!” as I was re-acquainted with all of the sites and sights that make Israeli such a unique place. All in all, the week was too short, but it was spectacular, and I am so glad that she came!   

And, in keeping with my inherent, masochistic need to over-exert myself, I have just begun work on the Music Man. Produced by the same company that was responsible for Kismet, my original intention was to simply audition and see where that would take me; a few weeks before auditions, however, I received a phone call from the director. He wanted to know if I was interesting in joining the staff, and co-music directing the production. As I have experience in this area, and do enjoy it quite a bit (especially since this show has kids in it, and music directing kids is something of a field of expertise for me, much more so than adults), I agreed, but told him that I would still like to audition for the show. He told me that of course, he and Assaf (the choreographer) and I would all be in the show, even if we’re just rocks or trees or benches. With that flattering image, I was not optimistic about the outcome of my audition…   

But the end result? I am now both co-music director, and the lead role! I was cast as Marian the Librarian (following in my mother’s footsteps, I hope she is very proud). So my duties in this show include playing the central figure, and teaching the rest of the music to the entire cast. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so fun and I can’t wait! We’ve had two rehearsals thus far and I am completely in my element. :) Performances are in the first two weeks of July, so we even have a luxurious amount of time to get this show on the road!   

Those were all of the things that I had intended to mention/discuss in this post, but yesterday something happened while I was selling flowers at the farmer’s market that I felt merited a… postal coda. ;)   

I have a number of regular customers at the market. I acquainted myself with them all within a few weeks. One of them is a middle-aged lady who usually comes in every day around 10ish with her large Jackie Kennedy sunglasses and makes all sorts of demands – about how to wrap her flowers, about how much eucalyptus she wants in addition, about wanting that bouquet over the other one, and not the yellow, it’s ugly… etc etc etc. Well, yesterday, she arrived at 7:30am. Tom commented on it as she was choosing her flowers, asking why she was there so early, and her response was “I have rehearsals later in Beer Sheva.”   

So, while I was wrapping up and cutting down the stems of her flowers, I took an interest. “Rehearsals for what?” I asked. She told me it was a musical. “Company.” I exclaimed that I really like that show (which surprised her – apparently most Israelis are not familiar with that show; in fact, I think this may be the first time it will actually be performed in Israel). I also told her that I am involved in the Music Man, right now, in Jerusalem. And then I asked “so, do you sing?”   

My customer stopped everything she was doing (tugging on her little dog’s leash, glancing around at the market, etc), and just stared at me. After a few seconds, she said “did you just ask me if I sing?”   

“Yeees…” I replied, slightly wary. She continued to stare at me, and then said “you have no idea who I am, then, do you?” My head starting to pound with the pressure of the social faux pas that I was committing at that moment, I had to respond with “umm noo…”   

After a very pregnant pause, she said “have you ever heard of Ricky Gal?”   

(Now while the Israelis are freaking out, let me give a translation for my non-Israeli readers: it is the local equivalent of having Kristin Chenoweth or Lea Michele shop at your stall, while you ask them if they sing and tell them that "oh!", you're also involved in a musical right now... Except it’s even more significant than that, because not only is Ricky Gal a huge star as far as musical theatre is concerned in Israel, she’s also a solo artist and has spent the last several seasons as a judge on Israel’s version of “American Idol” – “Cochav Nolad,” or “A Star is Born.” I’d say she’s probably one of the 10 most famous singers/music figures in Israel. And I asked her if she sings, and told her that I do too. FAIL.)   

Of course, as soon as she told me who she was, I started babbling and apologizing profusely, telling her that of COURSE I knew who she was, I have even seen her on stage (I saw her perform in “Chicago,” several years ago, as Matron Mama Morton), and that she was phenomenal. I tried to explain that the reason I didn’t recognize her was that I didn’t grow up in Israel, and therefore the fact that I even knew her name was conclusive proof of how famous she really is, because I’m so out of the loop as far as Israeli artists are concerned. I couldn’t tell if she was amused or offended, or some combination of the two, but she told me that that would explain why I knew of “Company,” and that I should come see it when it goes up. And then she left.   

I told Tom everything that had happened after she left (he was busy with other customers and hadn’t been paying attention), and he started cracking up. He told me that there is absolutely no way an Israeli person wouldn’t recognize her, and while it is true that I just moved here and am therefore a new Israeli citizen, I sound like a native and so she probably had no idea what to do with me. It is entirely likely that this is the first time she has ever encountered an Israeli who has asked her who she is. But who knows? Maybe she’ll forever enjoy telling this story at dinners (or in her blog) as much as I will!