Company Policy (2/1/2010)

Finally. After all my kvetching, we finally seem to be having a normal winter. It rains on and off for several days in a row before returning to sunny and warm. I saw an article in the Jerusalem Post that announced that all the streams in northern Israel are flowing fully for the first time in seven years!

We had floods in the south (I also read that in three days last week they got half their normal annual rainfall, and that the southern reservoirs and aquifers are already full). It is truly satisfying to realize that we will probably have less stress about rain this year. Which is a relative statement.

Here is a benefit that I hadn’t known about. When the streams are flowing, the streambeds are flushed of all the accumulated waste and other materials that build up over time. In many places, this process, which is essential for the ecology of the area, has not happened for several years. It also provides a healthier chemical balance to the reservoirs and aquifers, which may have had higher concentrations of bacteria and other contaminants as their water levels lowered.

Even if we have above-average rainfall this year, we will still be in a critical situation as far as our water reserves are concerned. We will still need a couple more good years to get to a point that would be considered normal. And of course, I still cannot report the actual results of all the rain on the water supply. The water workers are still on strike and refuse to measure the water levels.

I know that it seems like I am in a “water rut” and cannot get off the subject. For people who do not live here, I don’t think it’s possible to explain how visceral the water issue becomes and how exuberant people can get over a couple of weeks of rain.

Winter also brings new and exciting experiences in Chaya’s search for a sherut leumi (national service) program for next year. Many of her old friends are busy evaluating seminaries and other programs to participate in next year; for many it will be their first experience in Israel.

Sherut leumi is run by the army (*ed note: it is actually run by private non-profits FOR the army) and is surprisingly well organized. In order to qualify, Chaya had to appear before a rabbi from the Jerusalem rabbanut and affirm that she is religious and is utilizing her option for national service. (Aliza has been talking about doing actual army service in a religious unit—don’t ask.) She then filed her approval for the program with the army. Throughout 12th grade, her school has had seminars and workshops to prepare the girls for the sherut leumi year.

Should they live at home, or in an apartment? (Many of the programs maintain apartments for the girls or shared apartments with girls from several programs). What part of the country should they be in? Are they looking for experience that may lead to a career, or just a positive experience in helping others before they begin developing a career track? And many other issues.

At some point, the girls register their details on the sherut leumi website, including a picture and other biographical information. I think that the schools also enter information (including recommendations) via the site.

Then comes the big day—when the girls can register to interview for the various openings. The more popular programs fill up quickly, so the girls are all at their computers, searching, identifying, and registering. The program coordinators sometimes reject specific applications, resulting in open slots for their programs, so it pays to keep checking. Otherwise, a personal site visit (usually as part of a group) is scheduled.

Chaya went on her first site visit/interview last week. Thank goodness it is finally over. Getting that first one done is such a relief, since it removes uncertainty about what to do and expect.

Chaya has decided that she wants to work with the elderly. She has visited senior centers as part of her school activities and she enjoys the interaction. Since this is not one of the more sought-after jobs, the competition is much less fierce and she will likely get to choose from several positions offered to her. (Aliza—if she doesn’t go to the army—has announced her desire to work with orphans or foster children, very competitive tracks.)

Chaya came back from the interview very excited. She is pretty definite that she does not want that specific job, but they liked her enough to ask her back to interview for a different job in the organization. And she is refining her concept of what she is looking for.

This is all very nerve-racking for her parents. Neither of us has any experience with this, and we are both incredibly anxious that things work for her. Knowing that she wants to live away from home causes us even more anxiety.

I am not sure how long the process takes (I admit I was playing games on my phone during the amazingly long and boring parents’ orientation), but at some point soon offers will be made and the girls will choose. And the parents will cry when they see (i) how big their little girl is, (ii) how far they have come in such a short time, and (iii) that it really is happening.

I haven’t shared any “only in Israel” moments in a while (the water authority being on strike doesn’t count). A few weeks before we made aliyah, Yehuda Daphna commented to me, “I would warn you to be careful about Israelis. You need to push there to get what you want.” He added, “But I am not worried about you; you know how to push,” which I think was a compliment. I was reminded of this comment several times in the last week.

In America, when someone would say, “Our policy is . . .” it would mean that the actual company policy was about to be stated and would be adhered to. In Israel, not so much. I don’t mean to say that that is necessarily bad, just that the cultural signals are different.

I visited the doctor last week. Nothing major. He decided to prescribe some sleeping pills for when I travel; I have tremendous difficulty getting a full night’s sleep away from home and I will be traveling for three out of the next four weeks (yes, I am writing this on my cell phone at 30,000 feet—baruch Hashem for the QWERTY keypad).

When I filled the first prescription at the kupat cholim (HMO) pharmacy, the pharmacist told me that I needed to replace my membership card, since the magnetic strip wasn’t working properly. This card is part of the incredibly well-computerized system. Every time I do anything in the kupah — see a doctor, get a shot, buy medicine, get a blood test, or whatever — they swipe my card and everything is automatically entered into my file. My doctor sees everything and can monitor everything from his computer.

The card is therefore your lifeline to services, and if it isn’t working, it is a real pain. If you lose your card, they charge you for the replacement. I think it costs $8 to replace. However, if the card isn’t working (they are really cheap and sometimes they peel or otherwise stop working), the replacement is supposed to be free.

On my next visit to the medical building, I stopped at the receptionist to order a new card. She took a look at the card and told me that they would be charging me for the new card, since I obviously rubbed out the magnetic strip by not keeping it in a safe place. And she said the magic words, “It is company policy.”

I objected and asked her for a pair of scissors. She asked me why I needed the scissors, and I told her that I was going to cut the card in half, since the last time my card needed replacing was when it split in half—and that time it was free. She repeated that the damage was obviously my fault and there was no way they should be responsible for my negligence.

So I took every single one of my credit, debit, ID, and membership cards out of my wallet—anything with a magnetic stripe on it. I showed her how all the other cards were fine and pointed out that only my kupah card was affected. I said that I shouldn’t be held responsible for the fact that they use cheap cards.

She thought about that for a second, she turned to the other receptionist, and they both nodded their heads and said OK. She pushed a few buttons on her keyboard and poof—my free replacement card was ordered. No need to call someone for an override or get the supervisor to approve. She had the ability to do it the entire time.

This morning, as I did online check-in, I wanted to move from a middle seat to a window (I like to sleep against the wall). For some reason the computer wouldn’t register the change, so I called El Al. The agent assured me that once I was in check-in, she could not process my record and I would need to complete the process myself. I explained that I did not want her to process my check-in, only to move my seat. She kept telling me that they do not have access to check-in. After a couple of go-rounds, she suddenly said, “Hold on; let me see what I can do.” After two minutes on hold, she came back and asked me what seat I wanted. Another 90 seconds, and voilà—I had my seat!

Culturally, we have learned that “It is company policy” or “I am not authorized” or even sometimes a simple “no” are just attempts at getting you to go away. If you accept the denial, they can move on to the next person. It isn’t laziness; it is simply the first line of defense. When we really don’t care too much about the outcome, we accept the “no” and go on to something else. Yet persistence often does work. People do want to help; they just need to know that it is important to you.

Some people think screaming or belligerence works. Often it does. But I prefer to be firm yet polite. (Usually.) I think that the other person appreciates the lack of screaming, and I find that even if I don’t get what I want, I am usually less upset than if I had lost my temper.

After I had finished writing this column, the flight attendants came by and asked if I would fill out a customer survey. She then gave me the Hebrew version to fill out. I still get a kick out of the fact that they have an innate sense that — as American as I think I appear—they can communicate with me just as easily in Hebrew.

For the second time in four years, I will be in the USA for Tu B’Shvat. The first time, I brought Israeli fruits to eat. This time I forgot. Let’s hope that next year’s fruits will be the fruits of terumah that I (as a kohein) will have been given in a rebuilt Eretz Yisrael.