Welcome to my life…

(modified from Toothpaste for Dinner)
More later…adventures at Misrad HaPnim in Gilo await tomorrow morning so…Zzzzz for now

“I am sorry for the loss of your dreams”

A lot of things happen to me here that I am not sure whether I am supposed to laugh about or cry about. Usually I laugh because no one wants to cry and plus, I chose all of this for myself. Yesterday was definitely one of those days. I am less than a week away from finishing my ulpan course and it is becoming increasingly clear that I am completely unemployable in my own field.

My dream job right now? Not even so dreamy: to work as a research assistant at a biotech company or in an academic lab where I am doing work that from now and then requires a bit of creativity or problem solving on my part so my brain doesn’t disintegrate too much. And to be paid at least what I made in high school so I can stop living off my savings. As it turns out, these are frighteningly difficult requirements to fulfill in this country.

Like many of my friends in America, I thought that by working as a research assistant for a couple of years, I could enjoy the working life and take a break from classes and the like while doing something directly related to my field that will help me to better develop my research skills before graduate school.

Yesterday morning was a repeat episode of the tape that never stops playing called “Alissa’s Pathetic Job Search.” I had an appointment with a head hunter or “recruitment consultant” as they like to be called, outside of Tel Aviv. As it turned out, SO not worth missing ulpan for. I was happy to find the cafe near the office where we were supposed to meet easily and arrive a few minutes early.

There was a large outdoor seating area which made my normal routine of pacing outside until the arrival of my intended party rather conspicuous and humiliating for me and also probably fairly awkward for the individuals trying to enjoy their outdoor lunch on this beautiful and warm afternoon.

One waiter finally came over and asked me what I was up to. I told him of course that I was just waiting for someone. He shared his opinion that he thought I had been waiting quite a long time so finally I called the head-hunting or rather, recruitment consulting agency. The secretary told me that she was terribly sorry and “I” the recruitment consultant scheduled to interview me would be over in ten minutes.

In between this conversation and the 20 minutes it took for “I” to come over my new waiter friend came over to me with a cold lemonade on the house, probably because I was so pathetic to watch waiting, now perched on a bench, cell phone-in hand, by a fountain.

Finally, the ridiculously gorgeous well-put-together “I” makes her presence and whisks me off to her office. I feel bad for not being able to patronize my lemonade friend at Arcaffe. She begins looking over my resume and asking me about myself – my degree, my work exprience, why I have made aliyah etc. I should also add that the entire interview is in Hebrew. I sound like a developmentally delayed three-year-old.

After I have explicitly told her I only have one degree in biological chemistry she announces this must be some sort of language miscommunication between us because if this is really my CV with “all this” she has in front of her, clearly I have a second degree as well (am I supposed to feel complimented or consoled at this point?). Well, “I”, welcome to the concept of a respectable American liberal arts education where we study for four years for a BA and even a mediocre student like myself can weasel her way out with a handful of meaningful research experiences and if she’s lucky enough, a few presentations, posters, or publications to boot.

She then sits up rod-straight, makes good eye contact, and delivers to me the news I’ve already heard in several similarly small conference rooms by several similarly well-put-together poised individuals who may have possibly formerly been grief counselors or pediatric oncologists “I am sorry for the loss of your dreams but you are completely unemployable in this country in your field.”

Well actually what she said is that with only a first degree there was no way she could offer me any kind of research position, even as a lab tech. The only things she could offer to someone in my position were a job as a medical sales representative which she is terribly sorry but she can’t offer me because my Hebrew isn’t good enough to try to sell things in Hebrew (i.e we don’t typically employ developmentally delayed children under the age of five for these sort of things) which leaves secretary, a job usually reserved for someone without a degree but in my particular case would probably work really well because I could work entirely with English speaking clients in חו”ל and wouldn’t that be great because I could work American hours in Israel?!? (My own idea of a personal sleep-deprived hell).

After expressing my disinterest through a sequence of carefully-calculated facial expressions (which, in fact, is its own form of higher-level Hebrew – ulpan level heh or vav at least), she suggested I keep her card and give her a call when I realize that being a secretary is “a really great option for me.” So I could be a secretary while I continue to do my part-time editing. Ironically, I could have done that in the army AND have gotten free food and accomodation. If only the army wanted my typing skillz. Though I am not really sure where any of this fits in in terms of grad school or “the big picture.”

But by making aliyah, I am not sure if “the big picture” still exists anymore or, if it does, what it looks like. Suddenly, “the big picture” isn’t what I always imagined it would look like, but maybe by moving myself on over to Israel I stepped outside “the big picture.” Maybe it’s time to reinvent “the big picture” so people can stop delivering news to me with the gravity of someone who’s life is about to end. It’s hard to give up some dreams in order to live others. Okay, now you can all go laugh at me, because that is what I do all the time. It hasn’t failed me yet.