Lights Out

SJG to the rescue

Mid-way through the warm up at dance class on Sunday, the lights went out in the studio.  A chorus of ladylike cursing soon followed. Our fearless dance teacher Doug went down the hall to work the fuse box, to no avail.  Naturally, the SJG stepped in to save the day.  "I'll help you.  I'm good with this stuff," I said.

A chorus of cackles soon followed.  Apparently, no one believed the SJG might be mechanically-inclined.  I marched down the hall, confronted the fuse box, and handled things.  You heard me.  I got it done.  On came the lights.  I returned, triumphantly, expecting applause, roses, high praise.    "You fixed it?" one of the gals said, beyond incredulous. "Oh, hell, yes."  "How'd you know what to do?"  "I'm a Jew."  "But Jews are notorious for not being able to fix anything."  "That's a myth," I said.  "My husband, his father, my father, my brothers, they all fix everything."  Where the whole "Jews hire people to fix things" came from bugs the SJG to no end.  We don't hire people (at least in my family) until it's absolutely necessary, and when we do, it pains the menfolk to make the call.  They do so with a heavy heart, a feeling of defeat.  So repeat after me, "Jews fix things."  Say it again, now.  "Jews fix things."  It's true.  I'm living proof.