Before hail and talk, when you enter any hospital or clinic they ask you the deepest platonic question “guarantee” or “cooperative”?

In both cases, a conclusion from “Misk” was added to each sentence: “there is a difference in the dollar’s exchange.” And before the hello to Mechanician, he says to you, “Fresh dollars, sir.” Even hail is in the green of Franklin, Jackson and General Grant.

Doctors, or rather those who are left in Lebanon, are comparing their income with foreign cleaners and mechanics, with our respect, of course, for all professions, but those with white robes do not deserve to reap the fruits of ten years and more of studying in the harsh, barren season of the era.

But on the other hand, with the Mechanics, there is another narrative worth listening to.

The doctor suffers, and the mechanic also suffers. But what is more certain is that the country has become devoid of the educated and educated, and it is a country of hard currency traders, supermarket owners, money launderers, smugglers and bandits.

The doctor in Lebanon receives a poor wage, for a country of poor prestige.