By Aisha Gawad
November 12, 2009
I’ve often imagined what it would be like if there was an Arab version of The Office. Before I say anything more, I must state for the record that I love my job - at a non-profit organization which provides invaluable services to the Arab-American community. That said, it is a little bit like working on Sesame Street - that is, if all the puppets wore hijabs and jalabiyas and acted like they might be on crack.
For your entertainment, here’s a typical day at the office, Arab-style:
10 am: You open the kitchen cupboard, looking for a coffee mug. You find one, except it says “FemStat 3” and is sitting next to a box of estrogen supplements. (Your office used to be a gynecologist’s office ... of course).
11 am: The ladies ESL class begins. One of the students brings ice cream sandwiches for the whole office. “Breakfast,” she says.
12 am: It’s raining outside and the office is eerily quiet. “You know Arabs don’t go out in the rain. They melt,” says one coworker.
1 pm: You look through the volunteer inquiries. One begins like this: “Hello. I have a new respect for the Muslim community.” Another goes like this: “I’m very interested in the plight of the immigrant.” You sigh: “Oh, curious white people.” Then the phone rings. It’s Larry the Old Guy (he calls a lot). He wants to know if women are forced to wear “those traditional dresses.” You sigh again: “Oh, Larry.”
2 pm: You and a male coworker go out to grab sandwiches. On the way, you run into a young Arab girl you both know. Your male coworker gives her a high five as she walks by. Later, you learn that her relative saw this inappropriate display of touching. The neighborhood gossip mill is about to explode.
3 pm: Two middle-aged Egyptian gentlemen come in. They need help with some immigration forms, and somehow amidst a conversation about I-130 forms, you end up betrothed. The conversation goes something like this:
Egyptian Man #1: Are you married?
Me: No
Egyptian Man #1: Praise be to God. You will marry my son.
Egyptian Man#2: No, the best way to marry her is for her father to take her to Egypt and find her a husband.
Egyptian Man#1: But he doesn’t need to find her a husband because she is marrying my son.
Me: [silence]
4 pm: The children arrive for after-school tutoring. One little boy claims that he got to the highest level of Guitar Hero. Another boy doubts him. There is only one way to learn the truth: “Say, ‘Walla’” the second boy demands. The first boy hangs his head in shame, caught in a lie.
5 pm: A cute old man needs you to translate a form. He looks like your grandpa. He looks like a garden gnome. You smile. He hands you the form. It reads: “NYPD Sex Offenders Registration.”
6 pm: A Mexican man walks into the office. He had been mugged and abandoned by his smugglers. Your office gives him a place to shower, fresh clothes, and helps him find work. Before he leaves, he stands at the doorway and says, “When I walked in here, I found angels.”
6:30 pm: It’s the end of the day. You run down the hallways like a velociraptor. You realize you have become one of those crazy, cracked-out Arab muppets. You realize you love your job.
No comments have been posted yet.