I guess I just didn't think I was worth that much. I'm not referring here to my self-esteem. I'm talking about my "marketability" in the job-world. Perhaps, because it was my first "real job," I was willing to settle for less. 23.75 per hour sounded good. For all you Americans reading this, remember, I'm talking shekels here, not dollars. I won't outline the exchange rate for you here, because, well, then you'd get just as depressed as me about how little I was earning. One of the common things you hear when you move to Israel and start working is, "You can't compare your Israeli salary to what you were earning in your cushy American job." Let me just be honest, though. I was never in what one would call a "cushy American job." Most of my amazing career opportunities in America were in what we in the food service industry like to call "The Culinary Arts World." My venture into this career arena first began at the tender age of sixteen. I had my whole life ahead of me. I had a new (and by new, I mean, 1988) Chevy Cavalier. It was the summer of 1998, or as I like to refer to it, "The Summer of Dreams," and--as I found out soon enough--Big Macs. I landed myself a prime position in a world-famous gourmet restaurant. I haven't been all over the world, but I've done enough traveling to know that this fine establishment is indeed world-famous. Where there is human being with a craving for french fries (or "chips" as some of the world calls them) there will be the illustrious golden symbol of capitalism and globalization. Yes, McDonald's.
At McDonald's, I learned a lot. First, when a supervisor asks you what your availability is, do not ever say, "Whenever," because "Whenever" could--and did--mean 5:45 in the morning . . . every day of the week. Second, there are a lot of mean people in the world who are just looking for some sweet high school girl on whom to take out their anger. Third, there are a lot of high-school girls in the world who are much smarter than most of the customers who frequent McDonald's. And fourth, earning minimum wage sucks.
I've been in the work force now for over eight years (ten, if you count my foray in the world of landscaping--a very dangerous profession I might add*). Eight years, and I am now earning per hour . . . what I earned as a sixteen-year old working at McDonald's. It's thrilling. I love to speak on the phone to my American friends and hear them complain about their entry-level salaries. I usually just smile, grit my teeth, and commiserate with them, "Yeah, it does suck," while continuing the thought in my head, "That you are earning twice as much as me."
The saying is true; you cannot compare Israeli salaries to those in America. However, the ideas that "The exchange rate compensates for the lower salaries because of . . . " and "The prices on everyday commodoties is lower because of . . ." are simply not true. Yes, I pay very little for rent. But I also have two windows in my lovely room--one at the top of my 15 foot ceiling and one--yes, I'm being honest--that opens to the kitchen. Yes, I pay $160 rent for my bedroom, but I have a washing machine in it. Yes, I pay comparatively little rent . . for my cozy (read: small) room in an apartment with 3 other girls. But, on the up side, the real estate market is looking up in my downtown Jerusalem apartment. I have a room that constantly grows because the paint chips and the sand walls fall down daily. And if you're a polar bear, it's a prime location (no heating in the winter!).
It may sound from all of this that I'm having a hard time--in work, in my living situation, in life in general. But it's actually quite the opposite. In work, as you may have gathered from the title of this essay, I just received a raise. It was an exercise in evaluating and valuing my self-worth and, additionally, in becoming an adult. Asking for a raise is no easy task, but my discussion with my boss was less painful than I anticipated, and she was happy to offer me five more shekels an hour.
My living situation, although the description I just gave sounds less than pleasant, is actually great. I love my roommates, and they love me (and the washing machine I brought with me when I moved in). My apartment is conveniently located to everything, and I have a variety of bakeries within close (perhaps too close) walking distance. Additionally, I roll out of bed in the morning (roll, rather than get up, you just read the part about the bakeries), walk 100 yards, and I'm at the bus I need to go to work every morning.
In addition to that, I guess it's time now to reveal the big secret: I'm . . . ha ha . . .just kidding. I'm not getting married. I'm not pregnant. I'm not moving to China. But I am dating an amazing guy named Nadav. We've been friends for quite a while, and about two months ago, each of us decided that the other is pretty cool and perhaps worth a shot. (By the way, I'm cooler than he is!)
In any case, life is good. And with my new five shekel per hour raise, I'll be a millionaire in no time. In fact, because of the exchange rate (4.5 shekels to the dollar), I'll even get there 4.5 times as fast. And don't worry, when I move in to my mansion, you'll be the first to know.
*About landscaping being a dangerous profession (for those of you who don't know the story), I'll post an educational essay soon about lawnmowers, engine belts, and how NOT to stick in your hand in them.
