The Gas Company - It Never Really Ends, Does It

At 10:15 this morning the phone rang. It was the gas canister delivery man. He wanted to know if I have a key to the lock that chains the two canisters together. About 10 years ago I was a pioneer victim of double gas canister theft. It was discovered on a Friday evening when I tried to make some pasta for guests, including a first-time visitor to Israel from San Francisco. Late that afternoon I had decided cheat and buy some yummy pasta sauce from the very nearby Italian-owned restaurant Pasta Mia. At that time it was the only Pasta Mia, but now it's spawned many branches. They didn't have any white pasta left, and I didn't want green, so I planned to boil my own. The theft of the gas canisters interfered with my plan, but did not deter. I took my pot and my pasta packages over to Pasta Mia and explained my problem, requesting that they cook my pasta for me, implying that it was their fault I had to cook my own pasta in the first place. Amazingly, they agreed! So my San Francisco guest was treated to the spectacle of another guest running over to the restaurant to pick up the hot, cooked pasta for dinner, and I have become a loyal fan of Pasta Mia (on Wilson Street, not the other branches).

The next business day back than I was persuaded by Pazgaz to buy and a chain and a lock from them to prevent future theft. They kept one key and gave me the other, and since then their delivery men have come and gone without my involvement. I still have that key, but apparently the delivery man today didn't bring his, so he needed mine. OK. Down the stairs I trot in my bathrobe with key.

He can't open the lock: it's rusted shut. I think: this saga has no end. The heads of various neighbors appear in their windows. One lady wants to complain about a water leak, but another one offers to supply some WD-40. Hurray! That does the trick.

You think this is the end? I don't.

Durban II

I was just watching a little bit of Ahmadinejad's rant at the Durban II conference, and thinking about myself as a racist, occupier, oppressor, and all those other bad things he said about Israel (I take things personally). It triggered a long-ago memory from a workshop I once attended at Temple Emeth in Teaneck, NJ, circa 1978. We were asked to rank the following aspects of our individual identity in order of their importance to us: American, Jew, woman/man, wife/husband, mother/father, daughter/son, and possibly a few others that I've forgotten. I do remember, however, that nowhere on the list was racist, occupier, or oppressor. I guess he's hoping if you call someone a name loud and often enough, it will stick - not to the target, but to the other name-callers in the crowd.

His list should include ranter and troublemaker.

Not Exactly a Progress Report on the Various Miseries

Gas Company: I called them to order a spare gas canister, which started off the whole chain of events in the first place, and the order went through. The case will be closed when that canister arrives, "within ten days." Yeah, sure. We'll see in ten days..

Bank Friday: Received in the mail a cash machine card from Bank Discount with an explanatory letter in Hebrew. Decided to take advantage of the proximity and friendliness of the new bank and drop by for an explanation one day soon.

Bank Sunday: Got a phone call yesterday from an unnamed person speaking Russian-accented Hebrew who claims to work for Bank Discount, telling me that my standing order forms are being processed, and advising me not to close my old Mizrahi account yet. As if I would!

Bank Today: Stopped by Bank Discount for the explanation of the new card, and learned that my secret code for actually using it should arrive in the mail any minute now. Until then, the bank teller would pretend to be my cash machine, if I would let her swipe my new card. [Just realized that "swipe" used to mean "steal" but now it means...whooosh.]

"Israel is a country held together by argument"

David Brooks goes on to add "Public culture is one long cacophony of criticism."

My impression of the New York Times is that its editorial policy towards Israel has been less than sympathetic over the last several years, "several" being since the death of Yitzhak Rabin in 1995. Regardless of whether or not you agree, yesterday's op-ed piece by David Brooks (I think a subscription is required to view the article) was a refreshing departure. Of course many of Brooks's commenters immediately pounced on him for ignoring the Palestinians' plight, as though his short bit of cultural appraisal was intended as a poitical statement. As soon as I read the comments I realized that, while Israel may be held together by passionate argument, it sucks everyone else into argument too. If it makes you feel worn out, I recommend my personal survival strategy of afternoon naps, prozac, and a dog.

Happy Passover!

We Interrupt Bank Misery to Bring You an End to Gas Company Misery, Part 4

Tomer showed up! At 8:15 there was a knock on my door. I opened it and a smiling Tomer, my now-beloved PazGaz technician, announced, "I've finished."

I am now cooking with gas!

(Next, they just have to deliver the spare tank I ordered over a month ago, setting this whole chain of events in motion. With any luck, what I have will last for the next few days.)

Bank Misery, Part VII

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

I thought I would check this morning with Yelena of Bank Discount to confirm my 1PM appointment with Hagai. Imagine my surprise when the person who answered my call said, "Yelena doesn't work here any more." I recovered quickly enough to ask whether Hagai was still planning to meet me at 1PM, and the guy who answered said, "Yes."

So I gathered all possible documents together and was about to step out at 12:45 when my Intercom buzzed.

Voice: It's Hagai from Bank Discount.
Me:Here?
Hagai: Yes.
Me: I thought we were meeting at the branch office.
Hagai: G_d forbid!

It took him a couple of minutes to climb the 43 steps to my apartment, but I was still amazed. Who ever heard of a banker making house calls? And such a banker: he was in his early- to mid-twenties, wearing an open sports shirt, slightly better-groomed than the PazGaz technician, but not my idea of a banker.

We established that he was indeed here to expedite the transfer of my standing orders from Bank Mizrahi to Bank Discount, and he pulled out a sheaf of forms, one for each utility: city tax (arnona), health fund (Kupat Holim), etc., etc. I had the info he needed: my account number for each, and my signature. We finished our business in about 15 minutes, and then I couldn't resist asking him:

Me: What happened to Yelena?
Hagai: She got fired?
Me: Why? (hoping for a scandal, I admit)
Hagai: Seven people in the department got fired because of the economy.
Me: Why didn't you get fired?
Hagai: I work free-lance. I get paid by the visit. I'm a student. It's a part-time job.
Me: What are you studying?
Hagai: Economics.
Me: Hah! Good Luck!
Hagai: Bye.

We won't know until May whether this meeting was a success or not, but I like the idea of the bank coming to me for a change.

We Interrupt Bank Misery to Bring You Gas Company Misery, Part 4

The Plot Thickens...I think by this time you need to be introduced to the Cast of Characters:

Judy - my customer service rep at PazGas
Tomer - my PazGas technician who is forbidden by law to climb a ladder higher than 4 meters
Maor - the boss at the building management company, currently on vacation
Gili - Maor's secretary at the building management company
Itzhak - my neighbor in the adjoining building with the open balcony from which Tomer thinks he can reach my higher-than-4-meter gas pipe
B. - my friend/neighbor with a small electric cooktop.

In order to be able to fall asleep without dreaming of cold/raw food for Passover, I spoke to my friend B., who is going away for Pesach, and arranged, in the worst case, to borrow her electric cooktop, provided that her friend who is staying in her apartment doesn't need it.

This morning I couldn't believe it when my phone rang and Gili was calling as promised! As soon as I answered, from the tone of her voice, I knew that she had bad news. She said she had called the building repair department and they insisted that the gas pipes were the responsibility of the gas company. I told her I had been going back and forth with the gas company for a month already and now Pesach was dangerously near. Everyone gets in a tizzy here over Pesach, and that worked. She said she would call the gas company herself, and I gave her my customer number. So Gili called PazGaz and then she called me back to tell me what I already knew: no high ladders allowed, my only solution is via the neighbor's balcony. She agreed to provide me with the name and number of the neighbor, Itzhak, whom I still don't know. She apologized profusely for not being able to solve my problem (!) She also asked me to let her know what happens and to tell Itzhak he could call her if he wanted to check on my story. At least she was well-meaning, and gave me a vital piece of information: Itzhak's phone number.

Itzhak answered the phone. By now I've become pretty fluent in explaining my problem, and Itzhak kindly agreed to be available Friday morning for Tomer to come and clamp my pipe to the wall. I immediately phoned Judy at PazGaz to tell her the good news. She rang up Tomer right away to confirm that he would do it, even though they don't work on Fridays. She said Tomer had told her I was such a nice lady he would do it on Friday as a favor to me (I guess I'm supposed to give him a tip, but only after I check that the gas is turned on.)

Now comes the fun: Judy tried to talk to me in English and said she hadn't had the opportunity to use her English in a long time. I told her to come over with Tomer on Friday and we could have coffee and exchange language lessons. She took this very well and invited me to come to her office to visit her.We giggled a lot. After a few more social interchanges, during which I gave her Itzhak's number to give to Tomer, we compared ages of grandchildren, and agreed that health is the most important thing, she got back to business and I have to give her credit for chutzpah: she offered to sell me a gas security device and a fire extinguisher, spread over 12 payments, no interest!

Tune in on Friday for the next installment.