Dateline Jerusalem — I used to think everyone in Israel knew me.

At times it has been a blessing, for “protexia” goes a long way here. “Protexia” basically means “connections,” “pull,” “special privileges and favoritism,” “knowing someone.” It involves the recognition of a name, a face, hiring of friends and relatives in the workplace, favors asked of those in authority.

Although I do not have “protexia,” my face always seemed to be recognizable…until today.

Up until now I have enjoyed the recognition. For example, when I walked into the train station the other night, people were lined up buying tickets. I had just entered the building when the ticket person saw me from across the room, waved, and asked over the loudspeaker if I were going to my home city.

It did not seem to matter that others were in line and that I had not gotten in line yet.

By the time I reached the ticket window, my ticket and the correct change were ready for me. She even knew the denomination of the money I would hand her. Upon arrival at my destination, I stood among several passengers waiting for a cab when a taxi driver called out my name and my street to get my attention. I only had been in his taxi once before. I got the taxi. Others before me had to wait. Am I the only one who tips taxi drivers?

Of Course, Everyone Knows Me

At one market where I shop, the checkers recognize me, know I have my groceries delivered, and fill out the form with my name, address, apartment number and floor that I live on before I am finished unloading my shopping cart.

Even the fruit and vegetable man knew my name and address after only shopping in his store twice. A checker from another market met me on the street, introduced me to her family and invited me to a concert in which her husband was performing, and a young woman working at the pharmacy stopped me on the street just to say hello.

One of my doctors remembered me after only going to him once. He didn't know my name, but proceeded to tell me all about my medical history. But it is not only my face that people recognize. When I call to order pizza, the guy answering the phone knows what I am going to order even before I do. Am I so predictable?

Perhaps people recognize me because I speak English instead of Hebrew, but lots of people speak English in Israel. It is hard to imagine that I am the only memorable English speaker in the city where I live with a population of over 120,000.

Time to Toughen

Or perhaps it is because I am “too friendly” and polite in a country where being aggressive is important to survival. Once a clerk in the tax department of the city told me I was “too polite” and “too nice” to live in Israel. She advised me to be more “aggressive” or I would never make it here in Israel. I took her advice. Now when people at the bus stop push and crowd me, I widen my stance, spread my elbows like a chicken's wings, and board the bus with the aggressive ones boarding behind me.

But, my recognizable voice, face and behavior meant nothing today. I was not recognized at one of the other markets where I shop.

At this store, I usually push my cart to a check-out stand where there are English- speaking checkers. One of them died not long ago. She had medical conditions, and the store fired her. Another was the checker who invited me to her husband's concert. They fired her, too. Today, I did not know anyone there, and no one knew me. When I wrote a check for almost $400 and told them it could be deposited today (many people in Israel pay for groceries over a three-month period and tell the store when it is convenient to deposit the checks), they became concerned.

Handing them my national identity card with picture ID was not sufficient. Telling them to call the bank for verification was not enough. The fact that my check had my ID number and cell phone number and address of where the groceries were to be delivered meant nothing.

They wanted a Bezeq telephone number. I do not have a Bezeq telephone number. They told me to go home (a long walk from where I live) and bring back grocery receipts to show that I have shopped there. Who keeps grocery receipts? They spoke Hebrew, I spoke English. They embarrassed me by asking three other English-speaking people in the store to speak to me.

After almost 30 minutes I got “aggressive.” I told them that either they want my business or they don't, but if they don't I shall never shop there again, and I am a good customer.

Finally, I walked out with them having to re-shelve the groceries I had intended to buy.

They lost a good customer because they did not recognize me.

I went to another market, where I was not recognized, but had no hassles with my check or with only my cell phone number, and saved almost $75 on my bill!

It pays to be “aggressive,” but it is important to be recognized in Israel. If only I had protexia, my world would be perfect.

L'hitraot. Shachar

Shachar is the Hebrew name of a California-based attorney and former Los Angeles County deputy sheriff who moved to Israel 2 ½ years ago.