Editor’s Note: This is the third and final segment of a chapter from Boynton Beach Chronicles: Tails of Norman by Jerry Klinger. The previous two segments may be accessed here and here.
–Third of three parts–
BOYNTON BEACH, Florida — Friday, the big day arrived. Mendel’s hat and long black coat were cleaned, special. We even asked the seamstress to fix the frayed bottom of his coat so it would not look bad. He had a new white shirt, properly buttoned to the collar and his tallit katon, which he always wore outside his shirt. It was freshly washed and ironed. We added black shoe polish to his canvas shoes to make them look darker. He combed out his long salt and pepper beard, so it was extra neat.
Mendel was very spiffy for his job interview with Ms. Chantelle Jackson. I drove him to his interview and waited anxiously outside the glass doors. Mendel was called in and took the chair in front of Ms. Jackson’s desk. The glass doors were closed, but I could see inside.
She looked up at Mendel, her mouth involuntarily twitched without words. Her eyes enlarged extra wide open. Quickly, she regained her composure and extended her hand.
Mendel smiled but declined to shake it. She seemed to be insulted. He could not touch her hand. It was improper for a man, certainly a Chasid, to touch a woman he was not married to. Physical intimacy, or as we might say today – invading an individual’s personal space — is an intimate private issue between man and wife. He smiled gently instead, explaining his position.
I can’t say exactly what happened in there. Mendel never said very much about Ms. Chantelle Jackson afterwards. She seemed to be a bit upset. Mendel remained calm and smiled at Ms. Jackson throughout the 20-minute interview.
What he did tell me afterwards was that she insisted he had to touch women’s hands, he would be required to work on Saturdays, his beard was too long and does not convey the proper public image the Turnpike has in mind for a tollbooth operator.
Mendel explained that he could use a collection plate but would compromise by using plastic gloves to collect the tolls from the patrons. As to his beard, it was a religious requirement as was his respect for the Sabbath. Did not the application indicate that the Turnpike did not discriminate because of religious belief? Mendel asked her how many other Jewish tollbooth operators worked for the Authority.
She said “None.”
“Well,” Mendel said, “just because you do not have any Jewish tollbooth operators, I am sure it does not mean you practice discrimination against Jews.”
Perhaps it was Mendel’s quadra lingual abilities in English, Hebrew, Polish, and Yiddish. Or maybe it was his winning smile or the way he twisted his yarmulke for Ms. Jackson, Mendel got the job. He had to compromise of course. They required that he wear the uniform of the Florida Turnpike Authority tollbooth operators – the bright yellow, green and brown Hawaiian short-sleeve polyester shirt. Mendel did.
When working, he did not wear his usual white shirt buttoned at the collar but did wear his colorful Turnpike Authority imitation Hawaiian uniform shirt with the tallis katon draped over the front and back so he could always see his tzittzits and be reminded of God. He wanted to be reminded that all of us are God’s creations when it came to deal with the public.
He sat in his booth happily listening to Chasidic rap music or droshes from famous rabbis while passing his pink plastic bowl out the window to women drivers for their change. He never worked on the Sabbath or Jewish holidays and endured the strange work schedule shifts he was given without complaint – midnight Saturday night to 8:30 am, then doubling back to work early afternoon to midnight. He covered extra time for those who needed to take their children to a doctor or a soccer game. He worked honestly and contentedly with a smile and without a complaint.
The Boynton Beach Jewish Times ran a story about the Chasidic tollbooth operator one week. Mendel’s smiling face was there for all to see. We think that people used to hide their electronic Sun Pass fare counters just so they could pass through his tollbooth and hear him say, “Baruch Hashem, drive safely, and have a wonderful day.” For some, it became a superstition of sorts that the Holy rabbi tollbooth operator was blessing them. They needed all the blessings they could get.
(End Story)
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Jerry Klinger is the founding president of the Jewish American Society for Historic Preservation. In his free time, he enjoys writing fiction.