JERUSALEM — Between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-six, I
lived off and on in Israel. While traveling a lot, I maintained
my main residence there for ten of those fourteen years. Yet,
since I returned to the United States in 1994, I have only
managed three brief visits, the last six years ago. Heading back
this time for a four-week sojourn, time enough to reacquaint
myself with the terrain, I was filled with both anticipation and
trepidation. Getting off the plane from Miami in a foreign
metropolis with rapacious cabdrivers shouting guttural
imprecations in alien tongues only added to my fears. Then I left
New York and flew on to Tel Aviv.
To my very pleasant surprise, the culture of social interaction
there has undergone a major modification. Once upon a time, not
so very long ago, the experience of contracting to purchase goods
or services was as adversarial as the battlefields where the
local persona was honed. The first rule of commerce was: the
customer is always wrong. The only time a shopper was treated
solicitously was when a woman’s exterior motif stimulated the
salesman’s ulterior motive. Not only would they not give you the
time of day, you were lucky to get the week or month.
Back in the Eighties, a friend of mine was twisting with insomnia
at two a.m. when he recalled that he had not yet sent a telegram
of condolence to a friend stateside whose father had passed away.
Remembering the Western Union number which was said to work 24
hours a day, he called in to compose his missive. After many
rings, the phone was finally picked up by an obviously annoyed
employee who thought he was entitled to snooze his way through
the night shift.
“What’s the matter with you?” the man shouted. “Who sends a
telegram at such an outlandish hour?”
Another experience still fresh in my mind was a visit to a
government office of some kind circa 1990. This particular
functionary was being none too cordial. Looking up at the plaques
on his wall, I noticed one certifying his completion of the Dale
Carnegie course. Subtly trying to appeal to his better angels, I
asked him if he had found the Carnegie program beneficial. He
immediately caught on to my approach and he responded with a
harsh laugh. “Yeah, they send us to these training seminars,
supposedly to expand our horizons. But we don’t fall for this
weak-kneed stuff.”
A third anecdote came back to me when I passed a Jerusalem
appliance store where I had bought a refrigerator in 1990. The
woman who waited on me gave me a dry recital covering the
relative virtues of the three models I was considering. After I
had chosen one and was filling out the forms, she handed me one
more document to sign. “This is to acknowledge receipt of the
microwave.”
“What microwave?”
“The company is running a special promotion where whoever buys
this fridge also gets a free microwave.” Somehow it had never
occurred to her to mention this as a selling point.
This time around I have found a transformed commercial landscape.
Already on the El Al plane flying over I was amazed by the degree
of sensitivity and care offered to a woman who had slept through
the breakfast service. In the shops, storekeepers and cashiers
are showing a friendly face to all ye who enter. The surly bus
drivers of old seem more relaxed and accommodating. The cab
drivers are much less pushy about trying to sell you on letting
them charge you an estimated price without running the meter.
Even when I had to cancel a $250 jeep tour through the Judean
Desert less than 48 hours in advance, the fellow who lost the gig
was very understanding, without a single false note in his polite
response.
The truth is Israelis were always nice people in a broader sense,
stepping in to help people in need. There was no problem of
street crime and even heated verbal disagreements almost never
came to blows. Still, the constant threat of random violence from
lurking enemies had bred an abrasive affect, a pugnacious pose.
How nice that they are learning to display their affable natures
even where the pedestrian transactions of life are being
negotiated.
