Without Any Injustice

In parshas Ha'azinu, the posuk says:

(I apologize for the English letters. I'm on my iPhone, which is an excuse for being terrible at Hebrew typing.)

"Kel Emunah ve'ein avel."

Describing Hashem, the pasuk says that He is a faithful King who causes no injustices. That seems to be repetitive. Wouldn't it be a fair assumption that a faithful king doesn't cause injustice?

The answer, simply, is that it's not. Here's why. Say the king of a particular country decrees that anyone who breaks a particular law will be thrown in jail for ten years. Not long after that, one of his servants breaks that specific law. There were witnesses, surveillance tapes and a non-coerced confession. The case was clear cut; the man was convicted and sentenced to ten years in prison.

Was the king being unfaithful? Surely not. He had ironclad evidence. The man was given a fair trial. He had been warned. And yet, there are some grave injustices being committed, and the best intentioned ruler in the world can't do anything about it.

You see, the man's wife, who knew nothing of his criminal ways, is stuck with a husband in jail, children to raise on her own, and the irreversible stigma that comes along with being married to a criminal.

And think of his poor children. They might be too young to comprehend the meaning of their father's crime, but despite their innocence, they are stripped of a father. They are left to grow up with people pointing and whispering behind their backs, and they did nothing wrong.

His parents, his siblings, his friends, even people who suffer in the smallest of ways due to his imprisonment- each of them is an injustice.

There may not be a solution for a king of flesh and blood, but for Hakadosh Baruch Hu this isn't a problem. Hashem doesn't "forget" the suffering of others when He doles out a punishment, nissayon, or any other form of hardship. Being the Melech Malchei Hamlachim, the omniscient and omnipotent Ruler that He is, Hashem is in the unique position to take every drop of pain and aggravation that any given person will endure as a result of the "punishment."

You see, if a person is sick, you know that G-d meant for him to get sick, but it's easy to forget that G-d also meant for his family to experience their pain, however minimal in comparison.

When you think about it, the whole concept is mind boggling. The web of people who's lives are affected by any given incident is seemingly endless, yet G-d is able to, and indeed He does, calculate each bit of pain.

This thought is an incredible comfort to a person who is struggling, but there's another whole side to this thought, and that is the immense complexity if the calculations involved in Hashem's actions.

That's why I find myself horrified every time I hear people attempt to understand the inner workings of Hashem's plans.

You've probably heard the talk. An earthquake hits Japan, and immediately the thoughts of frum yidden turn to the bochurim imprisoned there. That's natural, even commendable. We want to ensure that our people are okay.

But as soon as people's thoughts turn to a possibly connection, they are stepping into dangerous territory. I'm not here to make an argument for or against a connection between the incarcerated bochurim and a natural disaster that uprooted an entire country. I'm simply trying to point out that none of us have a right to presume we know that.

How can you explain the thousands of people who lost their lives, most of whom were probably unaware of the bochurim involved in their country's legal system? And, however minor it may seem, how do you explain the frum man in New York who's small electronics store is unable to get stock of the many items manufactured in Japan? The ripple effects are endless, and we certainly have no right to presume to calculate it.

Perhaps the bochurim played a part in the disaster, but to make a statement such as "the reason they had another earthquake is that they didn't learn their lesson and release the bochurim" is nothing short of chutzpah. And when someone proclaimed that "someone should tell the Japanese that if they just release the bochurim the earthquakes will stop" I can't imagine they thought about what they were saying.

I think that this time of year, when we are trying to remember the incredible nissim that Hashem performed for us, it's important to remember that Hashem's power extends past the actions. Let's all try to remember that Hashem's love, care and careful calculations extend from the very first second of our perceived trouble, up until the very last ripple effect.

A New Method of Looking Into Shidduchim

I was having a discussion with a woman I know about the idiocy of shidduchim and shadchanim, when she mentioned the following gem of a phone call.

It started when the Nosey Shadchan thought of a Shidduch for the woman's daughter. Before we get started though, I should probably note that her daughter is 17 years old; many years away from any form of shidduch related desperation.

That being said, the NS decided to give the boy a shot. And so she called. And she redt a ger to the mother of the 17 year old. Without even giving the mother a chance to express any sort of hesitation, she rushed to validate her suggestion.

"Aren't you or your husband geirim? Or ba'alei teshuvah?" Not to knock geirim, ba'alei Teshuvah, or anyone else of unremarkable ancestry, but the family in question is from a long line of prominent rabbinical figures, and so she answered, truthfully but emphatically, "No, we aren't."

The Shadchan didn't miss a beat. "Are you sure?!"

One can't help but laugh. Was it desperation? Or was it just the smooth-talking of a pushy Shadchan?

Either way, I say we should all take our bets on how long it will be before a normal, perhaps expected part of the looking-into-shidduchim process will be past-life regression therapy.

All I can say is, I hope I'm married before then.

Weddings and Pity- a Terrible Combination

It's no secret that I hate weddings. I won't enumerate the various things I dislike about them; I've done that many times in the past. (Sorry, no links. I'm writing this on my iPhone.)

Tonight's wedding is worse than usual though. You may think I'm referring to lack of familiar faces I anticipate seeing, but you are mistaken. I hate weddings at which I don't know people, but that isn't the real problem.

If you were, however, thinking that the Choson is youger than me, causing me to dread this wedding, you are partially correct.

You're correct in assuming that it's because of the age difference between myself and the (very young) Choson and Kallah that will make this wedding worse than average, but the problem, as a matter of fact, is you.

Well, ok, not just you- that would be pretty silly. I don't know you. I don't know most of the people who think it should be torturous for me, but nonetheless, they are the collective problem.

If you've been reading this blog for a while, I'm pretty sure it won't come as a shock to you that I hate pity. Be it from high school girls who think I'm ancient, Nosey Shadchanim who had three kids when they were my age, or Chizuk Ladies who understand that I'm not getting any younger, pity makes me sick- any way you slice it.

And a night like tonight is a pity party for interested parties. (I'm starting to confuse myself now.) Doesn't it stand to reason that my feelings tonight should be a mixture of resentment, jealousy and sadness? Oh, wait, they aren't. Right now I feel a lot of boredom and just a wee bit of impatience.

"But even the- gasp- Choson is younger than you!" you may exclaim. Yep. And nothing I was looking for in a boy. Why should it bother me?

But thanks to the wonderous efforts of the annoying people I know, tonight will be a tedious blur of "im yirtzeh Hashem by you"s.

What's not to dread?

And The Number One Reason to Get Married Is...

All this talk about why people should get married, I think it's about time somebody points out the number one reason:

To get out of shidduchim...

The Great Debate

If you are one of those opportunistic people who follow me on twitter, you may already know of the In-Town versus Out-Of-Town arguments that take place on an extremely frequent basis.

It's never anything new. The In-Towners discuss the fast-paced life in NY, where kosher food and a mincha minyan are available on every corner. The Out-Of-Towners counter with their extreme politeness.

Personally, I don't get it. I'd rather have a rude guy throw a kosher hot dog at me than a really nice man inform me- in the most polite manner possible- that I'll have to go hungry.

Now before I go making the arguments for those really, really nice people in Hicksville, let me clarify something. I love New York. I've lived here my whole life, and can't imagine life elsewhere. That being said, I have to point out a drawback to life in the greatest city in the world.

One morning, when packing my lunch for the day, I realized that we didn't have any fruit in the house. Making a mental note to buy some in the local grocery store that night, I headed out to work.

As I've mentioned before, I usually spend my lunch break going walking through the area near my office (midtown manhattan). I walked into the local Daune Reade, picked out a drink, and headed the the cashier to pay. On my way, my eye fell on a colorful display of fruit.

"How expensive can it be?" I asked myself as I picked one up and headed to the checkout. The cashier smiled and welcomed me to the store. "how much are these," I inquired, pointing at the apple.
Her smile froze. "That's 99 cents."

My eyes popped out of my head, my mouth dropped open, and my vocal cords shut down. My lack of words didn't deter the woman from understanding my reaction. I was shocked. And horrified.
Her response? "You must not be from New York."

I am. And I am a cheapskate. Can those two go together? If not, maybe I should be on the next plane to Yehupitsville.

The Friendship That Almost Never Was

My friend got married last night.

I know, it isn't news that my friend got married. It's news that she is my friend. I say that because I thought I killed any chance at friendship with Leah the first day we met.

But last night we danced, as close friends. I leaned over and whispered "remember the first day we met, when we were working on xyz project?" She nodded. "I was so snobby to you that day." She nodded again.

I originally met Leah at work. I wasn't pleased to have her work with me, and I'm afraid I made that perfectly clear. The first day she was there, we had a project to work on. It was complicated and difficult, and it would have been easier to do it myself than train her in and do the project simultaneously.

I'm sure she sensed my resentment. And I know she noticed me texting all afternoon. But I hope she doesn't know that I was texting about her. I was complaining to everybody I could think of that my new coworker was a total MP. After all, I texted, who comes to work with her hair all fancy and a full face of makeup.

It's been almost two years, yet I still remember being horrified at her fancy looks, annoyed by her over friendliness, and frustrated at her lack of experience.

But looking back, it's really kind of funny. Had I not started the day with a lousy attitude and a disgusting amount of self centeredness, I might have realized that I was intimidating. I had been there for forever, I knew everything there was to know about the job, and everyone knew it.

And perhaps, had I bothered to think of anything other than myself, I would have realized that her fancy clothes, fancy hair and full face of makeup was a desperate attempt to impress me.

Years later, after months of friendship and many a day seeing Leah's mode of dress, I can laugh about the way Leah started wearing her hair in a pony, little or no makeup, and even slinky skirts pretty soon after that day.

And it is only now, after hours of conversation, after many late nights spent shmoozing, that I can acknowledge the bond that we share, that I can admit that Leah is one of the most interesting conversationalists I've encountered in a while.

It wasn't until my drive home from Leah's wedding that I thought about the way things might have turned out. I could have continued to be a ridiculous snob. We could have turned into a pair of coworkers that merely tolerated each-other, instead of close friends.

Alls well that ends well, I told myself, in a desperate attempt to validate my actions and placate my guilt. But it didn't work. Because a happy outcome doesn't mitigate the problem.

Imagine a scenario where the unfriendly feelings stayed. She would have spent her days feeling a mixture of resentment and probably anger at my attitude. I would have continued on my path of annoyance, frustration and snobiness. When I finally quit, we would have exchanged a polite goodbye, never to speak to each other again.

And last night, she would have gotten married, only I wouldn't have been there. I probably wouldn't even know the event was taking place.

Here's the part that bothers me most of all. Had this scenario played out, neither of us would have ever known what we were missing, what could have developed.

And that makes me wonder. How many friendships have I killed? How many people do I consider mere acquaintances, when they could have been good friends?

I don't think we can ever understand the consequences of our actions, but sometimes life gives us reminders. If a bad mood and negative attitude almost killed a great friendship, imagine what a nasty comment might do. We never know what the future holds, but thinking about it might just help the outcomes.

Top Ten Signs Your Coworker is Over The Hill

10) She puts on her glasses to squint at her blackberry.

9) He takes frequent naps at his desk.

7) When giving out her email address, she specifies "all lowercase."

6) The ringer on his phone is set to Sonic Boom level.

5) She collectively refers to the rest of the employees as "you young people."

4) He takes off a lot of time to go to doctors appointments. And he discusses them extensively when he comes back.

3) When at your desk, she exclaims repeatedly that you do things so quickly on the computer.

2) He spends a lot of time reminiscing about how different things were when he entered the work force 40 years ago.

1) He has a copy of 'Outlook 2007 for Dummies' on his desk. And he refers to it often.

Top Ten Ways To Spot a Tourist

Until recently, I sat in my office during my lunch break, using my phone, talking, or killing time some other way. Then one day I decided that people all over the world dream of visiting NYC, and spend a huge amount of their money doing it, yet here I am, in the heart of manhattan, day after day after day. And I don't appreciate it at all.

So lately, I've taken to walking during my lunch break. I have so much fun "people watching" as I like to call it. (The exercise-I walk fast- is a nice bonus too.) Lately I've been noticing that tourists and New Yorkers are different species. Here are Top Ten ways to spot a tourist:

10) They buy things from street vendors without haggling or trying to get a discount of any sort.

9) They have a camera on a strap around their neck. And they're wearing an I-Love-NY tee-shirt.

8) They look shocked that there is a man cursing into a public telephone at the top of his lungs.

7) They stand at street corners taking pictures of the tall, tall buildings.

6) The roll these huge suitcases along the street, and they look thrilled to be doing it.

5) They walk really slowly. They probably talk slowly too, though you generally can't see that.

4) They look surprised, rather than alarmed, when a random stranger smiles at them.

3) They stand on the sidewalk until the walk sign actually appears. And they look scandalized that there are natives already across the street by then.

2) They actually notice, and seem both fascinated and terrified by the homeless man standing at the corner singing into an old flute as if it's a mic.

1) They can't recognize a Jew when choosing someone from whom to ask directions to the nearest Burger King.

How do you spot a tourist in NYC?

I'm Feeling Old. Again.

She looks up at me with her sweet, 9 year old eyes. "You know which book I really like? A light for Greytowers. Did you ever read it?"

"I did," I replied. "But not for a long time. I probably haven't read it since I was your age."

She looked puzzled. "That can't be. The book isn't THAT old."

Suddenly her eyes weren't so sweet anymore. Way to make me feel old, kid.

Hereby, Forthwith, and All That Other Stuff

That's it. I quit.

Seriously, when I applied, I had no idea what I was signing up for. The toilet paper, the toothbrush- they have nothing on me. This job is the pits, plain and simple.

My first interview feels like yesterday. It started with MP elbow deep in my drawer, scrounging for what she deemed "appropriate" for the occasion. My hair was scrutinized, ("you'll have to wear it down.) My makeup was subject to strict critique, ("not too much, you don't want to look like a clown, but not too little; you need to look put together.") Then we tackled my shoes. Don't even get me started.

I arrived at the interview exactly on time. As I walked in, I tried not to think about MP's opinion of such compulsive behavior. ("You don't want to look too desperate.") Keeping all of the (unsolicited) advice in my mind, I walked in. I like to think I appeared natural, but not overconfident. Smiley, but not smug.

The lady who conducted my interview was pleasant enough, but underneath her friendly demeanor I could tell that she was asking some pretty pointed questions.

I won't relive the follow up interviews. Suffice it to day that I did not enjoy them. Not at all. The end, I repeatedly told myself, will justify the means.

Yet as the whole process dragged on, I started to lose hope. Maybe I won't get this job. Maybe I don't even want this job.

And hear I sit, thoroughly absorbed in this business, and it doesn't live up to the hype. It doesn't live up to any of the glorious expectations. Others seem happy here, but I think this job is a heap of abuse.

And I've had enough. Why did I sign up for a position that would constantly occupy my thoughts, cause such misery, and pay so little? When did shidduchim turn into a full time job anyway?

And so I quit. Hereby, forthwith, and all that other stuff. Who else is jumping ship?