Labor
Quit school after being covered with boils from
my head to my legs and standing was too painful
And the constant screaming at home was just
Enough.
I think also the repeated molestations had something
to do with my just quitting the human race.
At any rate, I left school in the 7th grade.
Became a runaway before the term was coined
in the Holy Land. At 18 married. Twenty birthed.
21 started to look for employment. Went for
a typing class - circa 1983.
Got my first *real* job working at Tadiran
as a clerk for the electronics department.
Semiconductors and other elements.
I started then working with computers.
A bit later forged out to start selling
sandwiches, then started cleaning houses.
It was a hard life living in the barrio called
Pardess Katz, raising my kid and working
with one hand up someone's toilet.
22 years old I lived in poverty though
Was making some kind of living. I saved
enough from working with sandwiches
to buy a washing machine. Ventured out
from that point to making felt hats
and selling Levi jeans at flea markets.
Then went back to office work. Good
ol English and lying my way though resumes.
I was self-taught throught reading the
World Book Encyclopedia a few times through
All 30 volumes. And then started on the atlas
and the Epic of Man and when that didn't
suffice - tuned in to the Voice of America.
Worked my way through jobs I don't
even remember now. The money was
important and when I couldn't work
I stayed home and taught English.
And when I couldn't teach English
I sold books I found at flea markets
- at a premium. Survivor instincts.
I'd find clothes, bring them into
consignment stores, fancy ladies
put on my own air of American girl
with street smarts and bargain a deal.
Then I cleaned some more houses
Then I cleaned a public school.
Worked in an old age home as an orderly.
Stocked shelves in a wholesale place.
More offices.
More selling.
More cleaning.
Then breaking my spine kinda stopped all the frenetic activity for a while.
Tried to get some inkling on what I'm good at. All the testing came up - anything short-term.
Like sales.
I went into selling makeup door to door.
Then selling doors door to door. The ones with the multi-locks.
Then proof-read. Then taught some more English, then guitar.
I think I might have had 100 jobs all told.
Since coming to Israel, been searching for some kind of employment.
My resume is sketchy. Gotta forge my own way. And not starve. And not be in danger.
Must find a place - even if it's an old bus. Will fix it up. I am very handy that way.
Always making something from nothing.
I could tell you about turning a sweater into a watch or a book into a CD. Finesse. Macher.
I've got a good eye. Sold antiques and found items later sold at a big profit online.
My energy now is so low, it's all I can do but to go to bed for a long, long time.
Days pass. No closer to any place I can afford in this Holy Land. No job. No support.
Nachamu Nachamu.
Be comforted, my children.
Show me how.
my head to my legs and standing was too painful
And the constant screaming at home was just
Enough.
I think also the repeated molestations had something
to do with my just quitting the human race.
At any rate, I left school in the 7th grade.
Became a runaway before the term was coined
in the Holy Land. At 18 married. Twenty birthed.
21 started to look for employment. Went for
a typing class - circa 1983.
Got my first *real* job working at Tadiran
as a clerk for the electronics department.
Semiconductors and other elements.
I started then working with computers.
A bit later forged out to start selling
sandwiches, then started cleaning houses.
It was a hard life living in the barrio called
Pardess Katz, raising my kid and working
with one hand up someone's toilet.
22 years old I lived in poverty though
Was making some kind of living. I saved
enough from working with sandwiches
to buy a washing machine. Ventured out
from that point to making felt hats
and selling Levi jeans at flea markets.
Then went back to office work. Good
ol English and lying my way though resumes.
I was self-taught throught reading the
World Book Encyclopedia a few times through
All 30 volumes. And then started on the atlas
and the Epic of Man and when that didn't
suffice - tuned in to the Voice of America.
Worked my way through jobs I don't
even remember now. The money was
important and when I couldn't work
I stayed home and taught English.
And when I couldn't teach English
I sold books I found at flea markets
- at a premium. Survivor instincts.
I'd find clothes, bring them into
consignment stores, fancy ladies
put on my own air of American girl
with street smarts and bargain a deal.
Then I cleaned some more houses
Then I cleaned a public school.
Worked in an old age home as an orderly.
Stocked shelves in a wholesale place.
More offices.
More selling.
More cleaning.
Then breaking my spine kinda stopped all the frenetic activity for a while.
Tried to get some inkling on what I'm good at. All the testing came up - anything short-term.
Like sales.
I went into selling makeup door to door.
Then selling doors door to door. The ones with the multi-locks.
Then proof-read. Then taught some more English, then guitar.
I think I might have had 100 jobs all told.
Since coming to Israel, been searching for some kind of employment.
My resume is sketchy. Gotta forge my own way. And not starve. And not be in danger.
Must find a place - even if it's an old bus. Will fix it up. I am very handy that way.
Always making something from nothing.
I could tell you about turning a sweater into a watch or a book into a CD. Finesse. Macher.
I've got a good eye. Sold antiques and found items later sold at a big profit online.
My energy now is so low, it's all I can do but to go to bed for a long, long time.
Days pass. No closer to any place I can afford in this Holy Land. No job. No support.
Nachamu Nachamu.
Be comforted, my children.
Show me how.
Comments