Good luck, boyo

Before I begin my story of how my day sucked, let me first concede that someone else was clearly having a worse day. Today when I arrived at the enlistment center, I saw a crowd of soldiers watching something, though I couldn’t tell what as their backs were all facing me and they were blocking what they were watching. As I approached I saw a teenage guy jumping around and screaming and crying about something, though I didn’t understand what. He was yelling at the soldiers, and jumping on walls with frustration, and towards the end even threw his phone at the ground, breaking it into a couple pieces.
The soldiers were so amused that they just waved me through security because they were having too much fun watching this guy to come and check my bag.

So clearly my day wasn’t bad enough to compel me to throw a total temper tantrum right in front of the army enlistment center.

NOW, let me explain why I was back at the enlistment center. I was getting impatient about knowing when I would enlist, so I called the office and asked what the deal was. And they told me that I didn’t have a health profile yet (and therefore had no enlistment date) as I hadn’t finished all my medical tests. WHAT? Yup, they told me, you have another test.

So I came down to the office to check out what the deal was, cos I thought maybe I misunderstood the Hebrew and wanted to actually speak to someone face to face.

Well, apparently I have to do another blood test. If you remember the saga of last summer, I had to do a blood test because of a blood problem I have. The kibbutz forgot to send the results (even though they promised), and then finally a few weeks later they sent it and the army office called me and said, “We got your blood test, you’re done with that.” Word. Well, apparently the army office no longer has those results so I have to do ANOTHER blood test. Which is really frustrating.

What’s the most frustrating part though is that no one fucking told me. At least 4 different people in the army office last time I was there (last week) told me that the ONLY thing I had left was an eye test, and ONLY an eye test. And if you think that maybe I didn’t understand the Hebrew, I will say that TWO times out of the at least 4 times I was told, I was told in clear English.
And, in fact, no one was planning on telling me about the fact that I had to take another blood test until I actually called them myself and asked a sort of unrelated question. Well, fuck. Do all the Israeli retards who enlist in the army get sent to the enlistment center to work? Is THAT why it did not occur to a single person to tell me that I had to do a blood exam?

So I left the army enlistment center totally pissed off and frustrated and whatever, but I felt a little better when I found out that my health clinic actually does blood tests every Monday and Tuesday morning without an appointment, so hopefully I just go in tomorrow and get everything done.

Upset, I walked down the street towards my bank to take care of some business there. On the way I stepped into a store that was stocked with some interesting items for Purim, so I decided to go in for a second to look around and maybe be cheered up a bit by the festiveness. Oh fuck, big mistake.

So I ended up bumping into my former boss from the t-shirt store.

Oh G-d. You know, people always say how great it is that Israel is a small country, how cute it is that you always bump into someone you know—well, as far as I can tell, you never run into the people you’d actually WANT to bump into, and instead living in Israel means running into the person you’d least like to see at any given moment.

Before I even fully registered just who it was that I had seen, my legs had already turned and started running. All my legs knew was that I did NOT want to be seen by this person. I was halfway down the block before I fully realized who I had seen, and I continued sprinting. G-d, if only I could’ve run like that in P.E. back in high school… I sprinted right past my bank, completely saying “Fuck you!” to an important errand there, and a block before the Old City I caught a bus to the mall, desperate to get the fuck away.

So I’m walking around the mall trying to forget that the whole thing with the army is all fucked up, and that I just ran into a boss who (for all intents and purposes, though not technically) fired me, and suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by a group of boys who look like they’re 12. One of them shoves a book of raffle tickets in front of my face and says to me in Hebrew, “Are you prepared to donate to asdghioujopidab?”

I wanted to help, but I had no idea what I would be donating to since I didn’t understand. So I smiled and said in Hebrew, “Excuse me, I didn’t understand.”

So then the boy laughs, and then says in extremely enunciated and extremely slow Hebrew, loud enough for everyone within a 10 yard radius of us to enjoy, “ARE……YOU….PRE-……PARED……TO….DONATE…..TO…. SDGILUSDH…SDGIOSIDG…SDSGKJO?!”

And all of his friends started cackling as if this kid were just the funniest. Several people had actually turned their heads to watch since this little kid was so loud. I wanted to say, “No, but I AM prepared to donate to you a swift kick in the ass, which is what you deserve, you little shit.” But I couldn’t figure out how to say “swift kick in the ass” in Hebrew, so instead I just kind of muttered, “No…” and backed away as the little kids continued to laugh.

You might think it a bit sad that a group of pre-pubescent little shits actually made me cry…but there we are. As soon as I walked away from the boys, still cackling, I felt my eyes tear up. I didn’t want to cry in the middle of the mall, so I started hurrying to the bathroom. It was a bit like having diarrhea of the eyes. “Oh G-d, oh G-d, am I gonna make it to the bathroom in time before I burst?”

Well, I did manage to make it to the bathroom in time, and locked myself in a stall before bursting into silent sobs. I spent maybe 10 minutes crying, and when I came out and saw that I looked like total shit, I spent another 10 minutes standing in the stall waiting for my eyes to return to their normal appearance and for the red in my face to return to its more neutral pink.

At the time, it’s bad enough being humiliated and made fun of, but the worst part is that after it happens you’re afraid of it happening again. For example, I didn’t want to get lunch because I didn’t want to tell the person anything in Hebrew and have them hear my accent, or when the bus door didn’t open on the way home I was reluctant to yell “Nehag!” like everyone else since I didn’t want the entire bus to hear how I couldn’t get the vowels right.

Christ man, I’m not deaf, I can hear I have an accent, and I know damn well I have a limited vocabulary in Hebrew. What do people like this pre-Bar Mitzvah little shit think they’re doing?

And for the record, little kid, you’re ugly as shit. Enjoy making fun of me while you still can because my Hebrew will eventually improve, little kid, but you get to have fun looking like a ferengi for the rest of your life.




Good luck with that.


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