I thank G-d for my even keel personality. I very rarely get angry, and even when I do, I calm down quickly. In fact, the times that I get angry are so far and few between (B”H) that I can usually remember each instance and learn from them (three other instances come to mind, another one from this year, and two last year. Yes, those are the only times that I’ve been angry in however many months that was). Below is one of the two most recent examples of when I became angry, quite angry actually, and then my final analysis of why I think I became angry and what I can learn from it.
A few weeks ago I was sick. Despite my poor health I felt obligated to meet up with a friend in the Old City and spent quite a bit of time with them. My health continued to decline and the fact that my hair was soaked with sweat with no exertion on my part was a big clue. I excused myself and instead of walking back to the yeshiva like I usually do (from everywhere), I decided taking a cab would be more beneficial for my health in this rare exception. So I took a cab.
For reasons I have only one theory about, the majority of cab drivers at night seem to be Arabs. That night was no exception. Usually the routine is that they’re extremely quiet the entire time except for the casual update to me of the ever-increasing fare (Tip: always ask for the meter with an Arab cab driver—even still, most seem to try to talk you out of it…or am I alone in this?) This time however was a little different. The driver was VERY talkative. He picked up almost immediately that I was American and when I answered his Hebrew questions with English he also continued speaking in English…and surprisingly well.
He talked of how awful it is to live in Israel. How one has to be rich to be happy here. How it’s very hard and all one does is work all day and then goes to sleep, and the cycle is never-ending. He went into much detail (all of which was unnecessary and unwelcome), and harped on the proof of his view being the fact that the Jewish government in Israel can’t even get Jews from the U.S. to move here anymore because they’re too comfortable where they are (some truth to this statement struck a chord with me), etc, etc. Meanwhile, I’m in the back seat falling asleep/drooling/sweating to this guy’s propaganda speech, but I finally managed to ask him a few questions of my own.
He spoke so highly of life in the U.S. how it’s easier, etc I asked him if he’d ever been there. He answered in the negative (of course) and proceeded to tell me that if he had gone to the U.S. he would stay there (my immediate thought was that he should go there then; anywhere but Israel). At this point I realized I was unsure of his intent for sharing this information. Was it a ploy to get me to leave so his 20 kids and his 20 kids’ 20 kids can takeover in a generation or two from now in this ill-fated democracy? I’m not sure. Here comes the punch line…
We stop where I want to get off and I ask him the price which of course is higher than the usual fare for the same distance/time of day/day of the week, etc. I tell him such and he assures me that the prices have changed and only he and a “few others” know about it. He apparently thought that I am stupid. Regardless he held that the price was 50 shekels and that was that. I tried haggling down to 40 he wouldn’t have it…I moved up to 45 and he started talking again about price changes, etc. I started to feel worse and a surge of defeatism with hope of the reward of sleep overwhelmed me. I then in (feverish frustration) said, “60 shekel, right?” His response was eager and immediate, “Yes! 60! Yes!” So I gave it to him and just before tumbling out of the cab in a cooked-brain stupor I stopped to tell him that I hope his life gets better here soon or something like that. I left the cab, make my way up the stairs in the apartment building that my yeshiva is, and headed up to my room. It was on the way that it finally hit me…
Why would I haggle down to 40 if he told me 60? I wouldn’t jump 20 shekels. I usually start with ten and then we argue a bit and then settle with the halfway point. I then realized that I gave him ten more than what he asked for. I became upset. Then I remembered that I also gave him a b’racha (blessing) on the way out that he should have an easier life here. I became FURIOUS. Why would I do that? I don’t want him here to begin with!
The fact that I overpaid an already greedy, negative-vibe giving, Jew-hating cab driver was bad enough, but when I realized I gave him a b’racha at the end of that experience I became angrier than I have in a long, long time. I laid in bed fuming, going over in my head what happened and how upset it made me. When my roommate came in I told him about it…when visitors stopped by I shared it with them (I have no idea what they thought about it, considering the fact I’m never angry and all of a sudden I was fuming—it must have been an awkward experience for them, and for that I apologize if so).
It was also not a short-lived anger like usual. I was angry the rest of the night and most of the next day about the experience. The fact that I was physically ill on top of it didn’t make things conducive to tranquility it also seems. Now, here we are at several weeks later. I’ve had plenty of time to analyze the events and I’ve come up with some ideas about why I was angry and what that says about me, and maybe what I can do in the future to prevent the same situation (I’d also like to take this opportunity to point out [just in case you’re one of those readers that misses the over obvious] that I really enjoy parenthetical statements, and I use them often).
Overwhelmingly I think the essence of what set me off was the injustice of the events that transpired. I was essentially ripped off in the fare, and I felt that I gave an important and good thing to someone undeserving. To me this is further evidence that my possible shoresh neshama is emes. Essentially what I’m referring to is the Jewish belief that everyone has a root type of personality or drive “imprinted” in them of one of three types: Chesed (Kindness), Mishpat (Strict judgment) and Emes (Truth). My intent is to not go into detail here about each three (nor am I qualified to do so), but I personally think that I lean closer to emes because my drive is to constantly seek out truth despite any personal consequences, with an emphasis apparently on justice/fairness too. I don’t know…Anyway, this is the most immediate thought and the train it took that came to mind after reflecting on this event.
Secondly, I feel VERY strongly about Zionistic topics and already have a strong bias towards Arabs in general and Arab cab drivers in particular. It has been the custom since I arrived last year for Arab cab drivers to change the price of the fare in route, to flat out agree to something in the beginning and then change it at the end, or to just all around not be pleasant to me. Jewish drivers in contrast have historically given me a different experience. One relevant experience that comes to mind is when I first arrived and needed a cab (and was just learning the numbers in Hebrew) and he told me the price and I gave him over the amount and he handed back to change according to what he originally said. In other words…honesty. So I think I was mad that yet again I was ripped off, but the coup de grâce was the fact that I helped him this time. This couched with the fact that I’m very much in love with Israel (and this guy was bad mouthing it), and that I don’t even believe he belongs here but I gave him a blessing that not only should he stay but that it “be easier” for him. Even thinking about it now frustrates me a little bit.
So what did I learn about myself from this secondary impetus? The primary thing is that obviously I feel very passionately about Israel the Land, the State and for its people and future. I notice this more and more in that I can’t read an article about this topic without getting incensed by how ignorant the world is, and how unjust their treatment/view of Israel and Jews is. Already being sensitive to such things (especially in a physically weakened state) I think made it easier to set me off.
Regarding the b’racha, although it upset me after thinking about it, the fact that my first reaction to this guy’s ranting was to bless him says a lot about my character. My subliminal reaction was to see his life better and for him to be happier, despite the fact that we have serious religious and ideological differences. (Trying to remain objective here) I think that means deep down I’m a loving, caring person who looks at big picture stuff over personal grievances or distaste. Also of note, I didn’t turn around and wish him ill or curse him either, no matter how angry I was from the experience. It’s good to take into account one’s good attributes in the midst of the bad.
Nu? So what? What can I learn from this and how can I avoid it in the future? Let’s attack the latter question first. So I don’t think I could become less passionate about Israel nor do I want to, so perhaps in the future I should avoid involving myself in discussions about it, especially when nothing fruitful comes from them. That way, I never get that feeling of aggravation that acts as tinder for a bigger anger.
Secondly, do my best to avoid Arab cab drivers, or at least learn to count.
