Reflections from yesterday on McDonald's, jobs, and the like

So today my roommate asked me if I still wasn’t working. When I said no, she pushed the issue. Granted, I’m pretty ashamed of myself for being so fucking lazy, and I’m embarrassed that in two months I’ve had time to watch almost every single movie in my rather large collection, and speaking practically I’m going to want some extra money soon because now that I actually have friends at this place I’m going to want to go out more than I have been. So yeah, her criticism of my not working is a valid criticism that I myself share. But I don’t see how the hell it’s any business of hers, and the only person besides myself who has the right to raise that sort of criticism is either my mother or father, because they raised me and have the right to make me feel ashamed of myself. No one else has that right, especially not someone I met two months ago. Grr, it totally pissed me off.

So then, totally pissed off, I went out into the world to look for a job. The problem is that I’m really really shy, and I feel awkward talking to people my age about jobs, so I have to walk around town until I find a “Help Wanted” (in Hebrew though, duh) sign paired with an old man behind the store counter. This really limits my options.

I ended up going into this touristy Judaica store. The nice old man asked me several questions, including what I did back in the states. I said I was a student, and he asked me what I studied. Which, for those of you who’ve kept track, is a difficult question to answer. Film? Languages? Theater? What the fuck DID I study? In the end I settled on theater because I figured that’s where I feel most like an expert. Lighting design, I explained to him, except I explained it using a bizarre construction in Hebrew since I couldn’t remember how to say “design.” I told him I worked a bit in this for pay back in the states (true story….and actually the ONLY paying job I’ve had in the states besides lemonade stands when I was little, which I don’t think really count when you’re an adult looking for a job in a Judaica store). I also figured that since theater is the only field I have actual work experience in and is the most out-going extroverted subject I’ve studied, I should go with that, even though I could also argue that I studied Judaism at school (though not officially).

The nice old man started on this whole speech about how the art of selling is very much like theater, and it’s all about putting on a face even when the going gets tough and all about presentation and blahblahblah. I smiled because I thought, “This is great! I don’t even have to make some lame explanation about how my theater experience is relevant to selling tchatchkes in downtown Jerusalem, because he’s doing it for me!”

But then he started saying though that, since I unfortunately didn’t have any selling experience, that the job was probably a no-go unless no one else came along or whatever.

Wait, so what was that whole speech he just made about??? There’s NO way I misunderstood what he was saying, I understood every single word! “I’m going to talk for 5 minutes about how your experiences are perfect for this job, and without taking a breath I’m going to end by saying that your experiences don’t fit this job.” Oh man, people are so weird.

So how, pray tell, does one acquire a job with no experience? Actually, I do have work experience. I have experience designing lights in small theaters, and I have experience babysitting/tutoring three Israeli girls and their brother in English. Does this count for anything?

Oh yeah, and I can fold towels like nobody else.


And in fairness, my dear roommate, I’ve actually been constantly on the look out for one job in particular. Maybe I should be ashamed of myself for this, but I’m not: every single week that I’ve been in Israel so far, I’ve walked by the McDonald’s closest to my apartment to see if they were looking for employees. And they’re not. And it breaks my heart. I seriously seriously seriously want to work at McDonald’s, because I bet employees get a discount on fries and McNuggets, and that would just make my life so wonderful. I want to be a nugget-based life form. I want to get so fat on Chicken McNuggets that my rickety Jewish Agency-provided bed snaps in half. When I cough, I want fries to come out. I want to inject ketchup and the admittedly nasty McDonald’s orange juice into my veins. I want to eat soft-serve until I vomit McFlurries, and eat Egg McMuffins like they’re Mentos. And maybe if you’re reading this you’ll think, “Wow, maybe you shouldn’t work in McDonald’s cos a fat bitch like you is gonna eat everything and there will be nothing left for the customers.” No, see, that’s just it. I want to spread the gospel. I want everyone to eat McDonald’s. I want tourists looking over maps and planning their adventures over a Big Mac. I want locals laughing about a fun night out as they eat the Filet-O-Fish or whatever. I want details of peace treaties hammered out over a large order of fries, and then in the end I want the peace treaties to fail because Hamas took the last fry and this pissed off everyone else. Yes. Yes. This is my vision for the world. In every country I’ve been to in the world, I’ve eaten at a McDonald’s there, and I consider this my contribution to McDonald’s quest for world domination. When I hear people say they hate McDonald’s for exactly this reason, for its “conquest,” I want to strangle them to silence the opposition.

After the t-shirt job didn’t work out, my dad gave me some advice: “Why don’t you look for a job in a place you’d be passionate about? Like a bookstore?”

Or maybe McDonald’s.

Well, if anyone from McDonald’s Israel is reading this…I’m your girl.