November 4 & 13, 1972

November 4

My job has turned out to be a total pain.  I think it’s dealing with some of the most stupid people I have met yet.  One “boss” asked me to type a chapter from a text book when all he had to do was use the Xerox machine.  He’s on the third floor and I’m on the fifth.  I explained to him what a waste of time that would be for me and him when he could just copy the text. So he said to me, “I’m not asking you to come down from the fifth floor.  You can do it on the way up.”  Seriously. This is what he thought the problem was.

I told my husband Abe and he laughed.  He advised me to just be slovenly and inefficient like most Israeli workers.  Israela, my officemate, also thought I was being ridiculous.  She said, if they want to pay you to do basically nothing, just smile and do it.  Six days a week worth of this stupidity?  And really no time to catch my breath before the “work” week starts again.

At least our “weekend” is packed.  Abe and I went out to a musical performance, then to a friend’s house.  On Shabbat we drove to his sister’s for a birthday party.  Needless to say, she was upset with us.  We gave her son a present instead of giving her money.  She claims she puts the money in a bank account for her children, but Abe says she actually uses it to pay household accounts.

November 13

The work fiasco continues.  I finally told my boss in economics that I cannot deal with the stupidity on the third floor.  If she can’t straighten it out, I’ll quit.  I also went to Shoshana in Personnel and told her about copying a chapter in a book.  She said, if things don’t work out, she’ll find me another part-time job.  But don’t quit the one I have until she locates another one.

Sad because I really like working in the economics department.  Some of them are even letting me correct their English.  So that’s rewarding, in that I’m using part of my brain.

News on the Russian emigre front.  One of the professors we were trying to get out of Russia finally arrived in Tel Aviv with his wife and twelve year old son.  It was so exciting to finally have some success.  He was over at our house on Saturday, his son and my son Ben playing checkers.  Although Yuri has been out of work for some time and feels rusty, Abe is going to try to get him an appointment at Tel Aviv University.  (Abe did succeed in getting him a full professorship, something unheard of, as the process of tenure in Israel takes forever.  Was Yuri grateful for everything done for him?  No.  As soon as he could, he jumped ship and ended up at a college in New England.  For some reason it felt like a betrayal, since we all worked so hard to get him out and did so much for him when he did get out.  And yet, life is easier in the States.  But it seems so many Russian immigrants like Yuri come to Israel and the United States, expecting to be handed everything, like it’s their due.  It could be coming from a system that provides them everything, if in small measure.  But these expectations are very annoying when we grow up with the knowledge that we must work to achieve our objectives.)

Winter has arrived with rain and cold.  The trouble with Israeli houses and apartments is that they have no central heating.  So basically it’s cold in the house and warmer outside, at least during the day, when the temperatures reach into the seventies.  But they fall into the fifties at night.  So space heaters are de rigueur if one wants to stay warm.  I was complaining to Israela about how cold I was at night, and she looked at me strangely.  “Why not use a hot water bottle?” she asked.  I’ve never used one in my life, but I went out and bought one right away.  Relief!

(Why was I entertaining so much?  I’m reading these letters and most of them say I had people over.  Was I nuts?)