Israeli students are also Israeli army vets, which makes for kind of a strange attitude: kids that were simultaneously given their independence and exposed to brutality view their 20s with wry adventurism, establishing a necessary connection between shrewd calculation and fun.
After all, there are a number of ways to go once the required military service is over. Arohat hinan, meaning "free meal" in Hebrew slang, refers to those who get a free ride to university from the army in exchange for five to seven years of cushy office work afterwards. Taglit-Birthright trips--opportunities to visit the Holy homeland for international Jews--mean, for Israeli guys, the chance to get with star-struck Jewesses who want to tell their friends at home about hooking up with a real-live soldier. Best of all in the IDF lore is clearly the stereotype of bro vets who shirk school in favor of selling "high quality Dead Sea cosmetic products" (read: nicely packaged water) at malls across small-town America for big money and love of quest.
This seemed like a myth until yesterday. I was talking with a 20-something falafel shop heir, one of the many kids who speaks better English than their shop-owning parents and becomes head of operations upon maturity. In between questions about store hours and shawarma prices, we got to talking about the perfume hustle.
"Listen, most the kids over there are illegal," said Teom (Tommy is his English/street name) winkingly.
"So, was it scary? Did you ever have to run from the cops?" I sensed I could be forward.
"Nah man, some guys, they make friends with Americans, smoke weed all day, get in trouble for drugs, and immigration police finds them. But I was working 12-hour days, getting screamed at by the guys supplying my product, making over 20 grand in five months."
So I was talking to a virtuouso. What was his technique?
"Israelis, man, they can sell anything. In the army, we grow up fast. So look, I just get in people's face, scream at the ones I don't like, just persistent. Sold one guy $700 of product one day, then you get confidence, keep making sales, or one day you go the morning without a single sale and then you go cold. It's all in your head. You just say, 'excuse me ma'am, may I ask what nail polish you use?' Then you get them hooked, and check them out--do they have blackheads? Chipped nail polish? Move from there."
Were we talking about the stock market, kilos of cocaine, or specialty shampoos? This heckle-for-shekel game wasn't just a summer off, it was a philosophy about self-worth, individualism, and the value of a little risk. I was talking to a mall parking lot poet.