_
An Israeli Quoting From A White Christmas!
by Erin Israel
"Highlights of today:
1) thirteen hours of pouring rain! HaHA! This is what November is supposed to look like!
2) getting travel insurance. The company that issues health insurance to postdocs and their families shows up on campus, in the lobby of the graduate school, for three hours, every Monday, to offer their services. Usually, there's a cluster of postdocs sitting around a table, waiting to shell out hundreds of dollars for the privilege of sitting in the Clalit clinic and catching the creeping crud, which is a particularly virulent waiting-room strain that has mutated an unthinkable number of times. The Clalit card should come with a face mask and an oxygen tank.
When I joined the small crowd, the insurance representative was talking to a girl from Japan, explaining how to get a refund. The Japanese postdoc left with a look of happiness no doubt inspired by the phrase "the check is in the mail".
Next, the representative, an Israeli woman with a bright smile and wavy brown hair, beckoned an Indian postdoc to her desk, and began explaining the variety of insurance options. "For example, the highest quality is Prestige, which pays for all costs associated with pregnancy and birth." The representative looked at the Indian girl. "Are you planning on getting pregnant?" The Indian girl gasped, but the representative blithely went on. "There are a number of choices; this one costs a dollar a day, basic coverage...." The Indian postdoc's preexisting condition was now shock.
Eventually, the representative waved me over, after the second postdoc vanished with her dignity.
My request for travel insurance produced a flurry of paperwork. "When do you want to travel? What's your name? Date of birth? Shoe size? I.Q.? Do you like your falafel with tehina or hummus? For how long will you travel? To your home country?"
Home country! Cue the flags and the violins and the Sousa march!
Wrong holiday. Cue the snow, and the tinkly music-box Christmas album!
The insurance representative seemed oddly delighted to read my application.
"Where are you from?" she asked. The U.S., I replied.
"Where?" Her brow wrinkled. America, I said. Le autsod habrit?
"What country?" she exclaimed. I racked my brains to see if there was some other name for the U.S. than the ones I'd trotted out. Then the representative laughed, and sat back in her seat.
"I mean, what state are you from?" She shook her head. "State, not country."
I told her.
She sat up. "It should be beautiful this time of year...all that snow!" The representative shuffled my papers happily and expedited the whole process so it took about five minutes. An angry mob of postdocs began to gather behind me, though, when she asked me where I thought the skiing was best. I stammered an excuse and fled with my umbrella.
Holy good gravy! An Israeli quoting from A White Christmas! I grinned. What an unusual day."
Source: Erin Israel. "Ka-MAH meez-va-DOT oo-KHAL la-KA-khat?" "How many valises may I take?" Rehovot.Blogspot.com (21 November 2005) [FullText]
"Highlights of today:
1) thirteen hours of pouring rain! HaHA! This is what November is supposed to look like!
2) getting travel insurance. The company that issues health insurance to postdocs and their families shows up on campus, in the lobby of the graduate school, for three hours, every Monday, to offer their services. Usually, there's a cluster of postdocs sitting around a table, waiting to shell out hundreds of dollars for the privilege of sitting in the Clalit clinic and catching the creeping crud, which is a particularly virulent waiting-room strain that has mutated an unthinkable number of times. The Clalit card should come with a face mask and an oxygen tank.
When I joined the small crowd, the insurance representative was talking to a girl from Japan, explaining how to get a refund. The Japanese postdoc left with a look of happiness no doubt inspired by the phrase "the check is in the mail".
Next, the representative, an Israeli woman with a bright smile and wavy brown hair, beckoned an Indian postdoc to her desk, and began explaining the variety of insurance options. "For example, the highest quality is Prestige, which pays for all costs associated with pregnancy and birth." The representative looked at the Indian girl. "Are you planning on getting pregnant?" The Indian girl gasped, but the representative blithely went on. "There are a number of choices; this one costs a dollar a day, basic coverage...." The Indian postdoc's preexisting condition was now shock.
Eventually, the representative waved me over, after the second postdoc vanished with her dignity.
My request for travel insurance produced a flurry of paperwork. "When do you want to travel? What's your name? Date of birth? Shoe size? I.Q.? Do you like your falafel with tehina or hummus? For how long will you travel? To your home country?"
Home country! Cue the flags and the violins and the Sousa march!
Wrong holiday. Cue the snow, and the tinkly music-box Christmas album!
The insurance representative seemed oddly delighted to read my application.
"Where are you from?" she asked. The U.S., I replied.
"Where?" Her brow wrinkled. America, I said. Le autsod habrit?
"What country?" she exclaimed. I racked my brains to see if there was some other name for the U.S. than the ones I'd trotted out. Then the representative laughed, and sat back in her seat.
"I mean, what state are you from?" She shook her head. "State, not country."
I told her.
She sat up. "It should be beautiful this time of year...all that snow!" The representative shuffled my papers happily and expedited the whole process so it took about five minutes. An angry mob of postdocs began to gather behind me, though, when she asked me where I thought the skiing was best. I stammered an excuse and fled with my umbrella.
Holy good gravy! An Israeli quoting from A White Christmas! I grinned. What an unusual day."
Source: Erin Israel. "Ka-MAH meez-va-DOT oo-KHAL la-KA-khat?" "How many valises may I take?" Rehovot.Blogspot.com (21 November 2005) [FullText]
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home