Do you ever look at a complete stranger and immediately categorize that person? I will be the first to admit that I have done so more than I would care to acknowledge. I was definitely raised to look down upon people, especially the Jewish, in spite of what my parents will tell you. Although I was never actually told not to like or associate with a Jewish person, the adults in my family made it known that it was unacceptable by saying unpleasant things about them. I heard the jewish would come to nice neighborhoods, take them over, and ruin them. I also heard that they killed Jesus. It was inevitable that I too would see Jewish people as inferior to me. With all the bad things I heard, it only seemed natural. I thought Jewish people were arrogant, greedy, conniving, and uneducated. I thought they should leave our country because their religion and cultural beliefs were un-American. From the time I was a little girl through my early twenties I looked down upon Jewish people until I met Joel one day while I was working.
It was a typical Friday at the Department of Motor Vehicles. It was fifteen minutes until closing time and the place was packed. I was about to call my next customer when a short man dressed in black and white from head to toe with long chin-brushing curls as sideburns wearing a black hat approached my window. He was a Hasidic Jew and I was not happy. I acknowledged him. "Yes?"
"Are you going to call this ticket number?"
"Nope. Have a seat," I said annoyed.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you."
As he was sitting back down I noticed the ticket number he had in his hands. It was a dealer ticket. We stop calling dealers at 4:30 p.m because it's time consuming. I was contemplating if I was going to tell him this or let him find out the hard way. There was a big sign by the ticket machine that clearly states that we don't accept dealer paperwork after 4:30 p.m. Some of my coworkers noticed him and started...