Sometimes you encounter an experience that just shakes you to your core.

I would personally never begrudge the super-rich, after all, I would like to be super-rich too (please, no sameach b’chelko comments).

And of course, I’m sure they have their problems too.

But I just never really expected to learn that we could possibly share some of the same problems when it comes to money.

It happened like this.

The Settler Gang left the Settlement today for work and family and this evening we went out to a fast food joint for a bite to eat.

Walking in, we were a bit overwhelmed by the loud obnoxious noises and music of a children’s birthday party being run in the midst of the restaurant, clown and all (and a pony too). But hey, it’s a fast food place that encourages it (the pony was outside), so who am I too complain.

But what was interesting was that the party-makers were acquaintances of the wife.

They also happened to be one of the richest families in Israel (no, I won’t say which).

At the end of the party it came time to settle the bill.

The guests (family members only) had been ordering freely left and right (big chips aka Freedom Fries, little chips, burgers, etc.) and the manager was keeping track of everything that was ordered.

I sat there in amazement as the junior Matriachs argued with the manager over the exact bill; whether some people ordered the big chips, or the little chips, and how some people may have ordered a burger which meant chips were included (this is also after the manager gave out free gifts to all the kids).

The difference could not have come to more than 50 shekels for all 20 guests (plus children). But yet, here were people that make hundreds of dollars a minute (and I’m not kidding) arguing for 20 minutes over a few bags of French Fries.

The staff looked on in horror at this attitude (they didn’t even know who their guests were), as they were the ones constantly taking the orders and now had to clean up the mess that was left behind (and from where I was sitting, the manager seemed right).

Mrs. Settler clamped her hand over my mouth as I started to yell out “It’s chips, not  damn it”. I guess she feels she has to maintain friendly relations for the families’ sake.

Afterwards I told this story to some “blue collar” friends and they told me some stories of how they go in and do honest labor at market rates and then find the super-rich clients trying to shill them for a few shekels here and a few shekels there.

Go figure. Maybe that’s how they got rich in the first place. But French Fries!!!