jewin' the fat


Ink politics
June 29, 2009, 3:34 PM
Filed under: Jewish Community | Tags: , ,

I probably brought this whole scenario on my self. If only I had been content to work at some backwater regional paper, as resident shitkicker/sometime cadet journalist, rather than sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong and accepting a job working for Jews.

(Now, now, don’t get all hyper-sensitive on me. They are Jewish, and this particular problem is completely exclusive to our nefarious breed, with the consequences only wreaking their hellish results on their stupid, stupid Jewish employees. But read on, I get less pseudo-racist and a little more feminist as I go on.)

Not only are my employers Jews, but they are also Israeli, and this is where the meddling Jewish senior combines with the aggresive Israel and the two combine to produce the most diabolical workplace situation EVER.

The “all-i-care-about-is-your-happiness-what-would-your-mother-say-if-i-didn’t-don’t-you-want-to-get-married-it’s-only-for-your-own-good” set up.

Yep! If it wasn’t bad enough getting the poke n’ prod from family and friends, now I am obliged (by my pay packet) to endure it from my employer – who really is laying on the guilt thick n’ fast, much to the amusement of my married/non-Jewish/unemployed friends, who think I could do alot worse than an Jewish basketball player who is single and what-a-looker! And did I mention he is single?! Ugh. It is exhausting.

Sure, the traditional knowledge leans towards avoiding dipping any writing utensils in company inkpots – but what happens when the refusal makes more of a splash than a tentative dip itself? So what is a single girl to do?

Particularly considering her options in such a small community leave a LOT to be desired. Sure, there are options like Melbourne Match (the brainchild of a destitute Sydney Single who saw another state’s trash as New South Wales’ treasure) – but who can afford those airfares? And that’s assuming you are available to jet off at a moments notice for a hot date, south of the border.  And of course there is always rekindling that high school romance of yesteryear. But homewrecker I am not, and I don’t think a handful of years qualifies me to consider high school yesteryear. More like yesterday.

So it’s a wicked web, this JC dating business. And I certainly don’t need to get tangled up in some contrived office romance (and DEFINITELY not the kind of romance in an office where a boss takes it upon himself to vett the potential suitor on your behalf.

Did I mention he is starting work next month, that I am being bribed with confectionary and that my colleagues keep asking when my ‘husband’ is coming to stay? It’s hardly office-gossip anymore – it’s front page news.

What happened to the good old days of clock in, clock out, ‘goodmorning’ niceties and a civil pat on the back at the end of year cocktail party?

These days it’s more like offers of a bed in a colleagues kid’s room, babysitting requests on your days off, couriering food, documents and security guards back and forth on your trips back to your parents place,  and food drops (“Just in case you were hungry”). Not to mention the dating services.

It’s a wonder I get any work done at all. Now where did I put that confectionery …

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