The Jewish mafia shook up my life….for one day.
Mid 90’s in NYC. I had just been released from the hospital after a surgery and was not strong in my middle, I had had to be carried up my fourth floor walk up by a friend. My golden retriever, Julius, had been holding the fort at my apartment, being walked by a friend, and now the two of us could rejoin our life. I was basking in being home in my own bed when the phone rang.
A rough sounding voice with an accent said “You owe Eleanor money and I am calling to collect. $10,000 in cash delivered to the following address by you this afternoon.”
I said “I think you have the wrong number.”
The voice said ‘I do not.” And proceeded to tell me many details about my life including where my daughters lived and what time Julius and I walked in the park and the name of the man who sliced my lox at Zabar’s and what time I traipsed over to Cooper’s Coffee Shop for my morning scone. He told me that I owed this money for three massages (which I charged $80 each and had sold in a package reducing this amount). My years as a massage therapist were over and so I offered to compensate him for the three massages. “No. Ten thousand dollars is now the price.” If I did not do as he said he would break legs.
My brain was spinning. I was also loopy from my surgery. I had grown a special clientele during my massage years, and my clients had shared intimate truths with me. Eleanor had not been a regular client, but during her first massage, while drifting, she had said that she was in the midst of a break up with her boyfriend, who was the nephew of the head of the Jewish mafia. I had assured her that taking care of herself was a good move, and also wondered ‘the Jewish mafia? Is that real?’
Apparently yes.
I did not have this money in any way at all. I went down my list internally:
My mother had had a stroke recently and my father was taking care of her.
My brothers lived out of the country.
My, my, my….who?
I called a friend who was an HR person and practical, and relayed the conversation, asking her what she thought I should do. Should I call the police?
Her answer? “Oh my GOD, no police! And you need to take this seriously. No question, I’ll give you the money but I don’t have cash. Can you get down here?”
“Yes. Of course. How do i know they won’t want more?”
“You don’t. But you have to do this. Let me know when you get here, I’ll run outside and give you a check, my bank is across the street, cash it and do what they say.”
Julius’ eyes were on me. I called the man who had carried me upstairs to come walk him, and while he was at it to carry me downstairs, meanwhile calling a taxi service.
I did what I was told. I never heard from this man again. Just another day on earth.
Thank you, Janet. Thank you, God. Friends and angels are one.