Drive on the Shoulder: How Olim Get Things Done

Getting stuck traffic is an all-too-common part of Israeli living. You don’t need to be an oleh to know how that is.  However, every oleh eventually discovers that sometimes the best way to avoid p’kakim (bottlenecks), real and metaphorical, is to drive on the shoulder!

Obviously, when you’re stuck in traffic and it’s moving too slowly – or not at all – you find yourself imagining how much easier it would be to just get out of your lane and play leapfrog with the other cars ahead by driving on the shoulder rather than wait for the jam to clear up. (Although I’m not sure I would advise that.)

But when you’re trying to get an appointment with the bank manager, or you’re waiting to get the pakid (functionary) at the Ministry of Redundant Paperwork to correct a form that someone (never them!) messed up, or you’re stuck at the kupat holim behind a family who chose to shlep their consumptive kids along rather than send them to school that day, do what Israelis do. Switch lanes and drive on the shoulder

In many countries—especially the U.S.—doing things “the right way” usually means not deviating from the rules. Rules exist in Israel, too, but they’re often taken as suggestions rather than the most effective way to get where you’re going. In Israel things don’t always move in straight lines here. They zigzag. They pause. They restart. And for olim, one of the most important skills to learn is when it’s okay—necessary, even—to drive on the shoulder.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about cheating, lying, or being a scofflaw. It’s about understanding that Israel runs on flexibility, relationships, and creative problem-solving. The Israeli system assumes you’ll use common sense, human connection, and initiative.

Take a classic example: opening your first bank account. Officially, you show up with your teudat oleh to open a shekel account. In reality, that process can stall—especially if you’re new, don’t yet have all your paperwork in order, or the bank clerk decides today is not a good day. How do you avoid getting stuck in your lane? McGyver it! Establish a relationship with the bank by opening a dollar account using a U.S. passport, something Israeli banks are very comfortable doing. Once that relationship exists, once you’re already “in the system,” adding a shekel account with your Israeli documents becomes much easier.

Same destination. Different lane.

Or consider registering your child to a particular school. On paper, there is a clear hierarchy: you submit a request, wait for a response, and hope someone reads your email. In practice, parents quickly learn that emails disappear into the void. But a phone call from a mutual acquaintance, a quick introduction through another parent, or a connection through the municipality can get you a face-to-face meeting overnight. Suddenly, the same request that went unanswered now gets real attention—not because it changed, but because it came through a human channel.

This can be jarring for olim who are used to systems where connections feel unfair, like cutting the line at a concert or an exclusive club. In Israel, connections are neither unfair nor inappropriate. They’re expected. The assumption is that if something matters to you, you’ll advocate for yourself—and that often means involving other people.

Israel is a small country with a big sense of informality. Everyone knows someone who knows someone. Using that network isn’t cutting the line; it’s how the line moves at all.

Driving on the shoulder also means knowing when persistence beats patience. If an office tells you “come back next week,” that may be true—or it may be a polite way of ending the conversation. Showing up again tomorrow, calling another branch, or asking a different clerk can produce a completely different outcome. Same rules. Different execution.

This mindset shift is part of the klitah (absorption) process. Israel isn’t asking you to abandon your values; it’s asking you to change your tactics. You can be honest, ethical, and respectful while still being proactive, creative and tenacious. In fact, the system often rewards exactly that.

Over time, most olim become fluent in this skill set. They learn which shoulders are safe to drive on, when to merge back into traffic, and when to wait it out. They learn that “no” sometimes means “not like this,” and that “impossible” often means “you haven’t found the right person yet.”

So the next time you feel stuck—at an office, a school, or in an awkward social situation — take a breath and look around. Is there another lane? A personal connection? A workaround that  bypasses the jams? Great. Take it!

Because in Israel, it’s getting there, not how you got there, that counts.