Cleanliness is Next to Godliness and Cheerleading for Millionaires

We've come to that point. Well, actually, I'VE come to that point. The point where yeshiva is over, my life as a student is on hiatus, and it's time for me to have a job here in Israel. I suppose if I were looking for more permanent work--not just work until I start my MA in the fall--then I would have a better chance of finding something decent. I suppose if I wanted to work in the hi-tech industry or perhaps guard a mall, bus, government office, restaurant, holy site, park, coffee shop, museum, school, supermarket, or dog on the side of the road then I would also have more job opportunties. But neither of these is the case, and so, I'm cleaning houses to earn money. We've all heard the old adage, "Cleanliness is next to godliness," and I am hoping by cleaning in a city that seems so focused on G-d already, I will be able to raise the spiritual level (or at least the dust) of someone's home to a point that is holy. So, that's the job, and to be honest it pays well, but I want to kick some crazy Zionist who back in the euphoric 1950's said, "Even the garbage collectors are Jewish in Israel," because let's be honest, they were as excited to collect garbage as I am to clean someone's ass-lah (yes, this is REALLY the word for toilet in Hebrew).

Believe me, though. It's not all as painful as I am making it sound. I interviewed for a job a few weeks ago, and after a few days of thinking that the interview went horribly, they called back to hire me (because, let's face it, I live a 12-minute walk away and they made it clear that was a big advantage). So now, I'm working for a Scottish electrical engineer doing . . . well . . . a lot of things. During the interview they asked me if I minded doing office work as well as "on-site" work. "Well, I helped my Dad a lot when he built our house," I answered, "So 'on-site' work sounds fine," I replied. Had I know what was to come, I may have reconsidered (ie, notice the " " in the previous sentence and anticipate what crazy story is coming up).

Among other tasks, "on-site" includes:
1) Installing hi-tech telecommunication systems--ie, taking really expensive phones out of their boxes and plugging them into walls
2) Nutritional education--ie, my boss acting like a Polish mother and telling me I don't eat enough because I'm not jumping on every chance there is to drink tea with milk (man, Brits are weird)
3) Language enhancement--speaking in 3 languages at once (one of which I don't speak) while I work with a Scot, a Russian, and myself (can you work with yourself?)
4) Changing light bulbs for people who have way too much money to do it themselves

And #4 is the task on which I would like to elaborate and which is the reason for the second part of the title of this exposition, "Cheerleading for Millionaires." Tell me, if you had five million extra dollars what would you do? Well, this guy decided to buy the nicest house I've ever seen. Not that my experience among millionaires is extensive, but I cannot imagine something nicer than this house. Along with housing one of the largest Jewish libraries in the world, he has chosen pieces of art so exquisite that I was afraid to breathe inside. After we parked the car, we entered the building, and I commented to Jonny, "It's really weird that people pay you to change light bulbs. I mean, what could be simpler?" I thought to myself. "These must be only people outside of my 90-year-old great Aunt Sally who asks me to change light bulbs for them." (Pause Pause, Wait Wait) Ask me now. Ask me, "Becky, where was the light bulb you were supposed to change?" Answer: Imagine the top of the Eiffel tower. Now imagine a trapeze artist who is accustomed to hanging on with her toenails while swinging hundreds of feet in the air. Now imagine this trapeze artist in her sparkly leotard on top of the Eiffel tower looking UP at the aforementioned light bulb, crinkling her brow, and saying, "You want me to do WHAT?!?"

Yes, that's where it was. I mean, why WOULDN'T you put a light there when you have all the money to in the world to pay people with expendable lives to change it? Top of a 25-foot marble staircase. Ladder? No chance. 12-foot-tall midget pyramid? A possibility . . . but we didn't have any midgets working "on-site" with us. So, we did what any 50-year-old religious male engineer and his 23-year-old female assistant could do--we did a shoulder-sit. A what? A shoulder-sit. Looks like my four years of cheerleading actually came in handy (I mean, besides making me despise teenage prima donnas with attitudes and ironing bows with hairspray). I prayed, climbed on his shoulders, and tried not to wee myself (Scottish-ism) as I shakily held the delicate light fixture and attempted to change the bulb. It wasn't easy. And by that, I mean, "It took us 5 mounts and dismounts, one broken halogen bulb, a few curse words, a lot of laughs from the Romanian and Philipina house servants as we swayed like a drunken totem pole at the top of the stairs, a couple more chocolate cookies stolen from the cupboard, a few more curse words, one almost failed attempt (ie, me almost falling head-first over the banister) . . . BUT we did it."

It was a job well done. And for 25 shekels an hour, really, what more could I ask for? Answer: That the light . . . will last longer than I do at this job.