So You Think You Know...Sam Levy

Ah, Paris, France…the "City of Lights." Portrayed endlessly in cinema as a place where each day is steeped in a certain charm-and waiters stand ready to entertain you with a lilting tune on the off-chance you've been having a crummy one-it seems like an entirely delightful place from which to hail. Fine art, artisanal bread and wine, intriguing architecture, delicious chocolates (and perhaps some tasty escargot?)…the list goes on and on. There is also, of course, the promise of that certain joie de vivre at every turn…unless of course you are an American tourist trying to communicate with the locals or get around the city when the whole operation seems to be on strike. But we will take these matters up with our resident Parisian, Sam Levy, in due time.

As always, let's first take a journey down memory lane… Now, you may have worked with Sam on school projects and noticed possible dorky tendencies, but trust me; you don't even know the half of it. As a kid, he was an all-out nerd (by his own admission). He claims that, in his youth, he could have told you pretty much anything you wanted to know about any planetary body. The size of Pluto, the satellites of Mars, etc. Apparently in France, however, they do not use mnemonic devices, such as "Mary's Violet Eyes Made John Stay Up Nights Planning" (planning for what, exactly?), to memorize things like the order of the planets-because Sam had no idea what I was talking about. He did not, however, need silly phrases as a crutch, anyhow. Another one of Sam's pastimes was studying and organizing his "animal cards." One day, he would arrange them alphabetically-and the next, if he was feeling really crazy, he would sort them by species type. I knew people that did this sort of thing with their deluxe boxes of 64 crayons. Personally, I was more interested in getting down to the business of coloring than I was concerned with making sure that "red orange" was appropriately housed smack dab against its friend "orange red." (By the way, they have ridiculous names for crayon colors now, such as "purple mountain's majesty…c'mon; what was wrong with the sturdy oldies-but-goodies like "raw umber?" I digress.)

I do have one more tidbit about Sam as a kid. And a possible Hanukkah gift idea if you are stumped about what to get him. Sam loved LEGOs-so much so that he would sneak in LEGO Time when no one was watching, as though it were a forbidden pleasure. Literally: he would wake up at some ungodly hour such as 2 a.m. and would make LEGO creations until, say, 6:00 in the morning. Kids... Sometimes wanting a partner in crime, he would roust his only sibling out of bed. Little Brother was somewhat less gung-ho than Sam about the middle-of-the-night LEGO antics and would usually only last about 30 minutes. The really sad part of the story comes, however, when I asked Sam what became of his vast LEGO collections. As it turns out, they were stolen. What? Yes: stolen. The logical next question is, of course, "But who would do such a thing!?" Well…the main suspect was none other than the cleaning lady who mysteriously stopped coming to work after the missing LEGO incident-a total outrage! This is the stuff of Seinfeld scripts.

So, anyhow, after college…LEGO-less and wanting adventure…Sam signed up for a 3.5-month stint in New York. And, well, as this city has a habit of doing, it sucked him in and kept him for 50.5 more months than expected. Over that period, Sam had the distinct honor of working for one of the first dotcoms to declare bankruptcy. But after partaking in that fun bit of technology history, Sam found steady employment with Dannon. I didn't ask him if he washes his hair with Evian water, but we will get to his shower-related quirks later. Anyhow, after the 4.5 years in NYC-again growing restless-Sam decided to relocate to Israel; the Holy Land, if you will. Where he held down some kind of brainiac I.T.-related job.

Incidentally, as President of the JSA (Jewish Students' Association), Sam promised me that for the MBA1s' sakes, he would see to it that next year's Jewish holidays fall on better days of the week than they did this year (i.e. more days off from school…). Also, while we are on this topic, please note that there is a "UJA" Wall St. Division Dinner on December 6th and a Shabbat Dinner on December 8th. So…if you're looking to celebrate with your Jewish brethren and are hungry…these events are for you!

These days, Sam is naturally busy recruiting, but if he could do anything and get paid for it…well, he would simply retire. Can't you just see Sam Levy rockin' the knee-high socks and playing golf at a Florida retirement community day in and day out? A funny thought. Well, apparently this early retirement thing came up in some kind of recent recruiting interview that Sam had, and the comment might possibly have not gone over super-well with the company who mistakenly thought he might be interested in actually doing work.

Speaking of work (or a lack thereof), I really wanted to get to the bottom of the seemingly endless strike problem in Paris. What's the deal? Sam told me that it's really just a part of the culture, and that the locals don't think of it as much of a bother. There was a three-month stint (in the dead of winter, mind you) in 1995…no transportation was being provided throughout the city. But school and exams called…so Sam would ride his bike 40 minutes each way (uphill both way, no doubt) to and from class every day over this period. Students sometimes showed up with visible signs of frostbite or other times almost having been tossed to the ground by a truck door that opened out of nowhere…but no one played hookie. A hearty people; the French. But not always, per their reputation, the nicest when it comes to interacting with tourists. Sam said that the main annoyance is if an American flat-out assumes that any French person will converse with him/her in English. It is best to attempt some really poor French that you picked up from one of those traveler's dictionaries-at which point the Parisian will hopefully feel sorry for you and switch to English of his/her own accord. It's one of these international diplomacy games, I suppose.