From The Bimah: Jewish Lessons For Life

Our ice maker in our fridge broke again. I called the service line. You know the drill: obnoxious faux classical music, repeated robotic recordings, “we care about your business and will answer your call as soon as possible. Please stay on the line.” Finally my call was answered by a woman who said her name was Jennifer and sounded like she was answering from South Asia. I told her our ice maker saga and once she had gotten all the information, she sai,d “thank you ma’am, I just submitted this request and am waiting for a response from my manager.” “Ok, thanks,” I said. There was silence. Then, since we were waiting on the phone together, I asked, “how’s your day going?” There was no response. “Are you there?” I asked. “Yes, I’m here ma’am.” “Oh good,” I said, “How’s your day going?” “Ma’am, are you talking to me?” “Yes, of course, who else would I be talking to? I figured as long as we were waiting, we could chat.” “Oh, ma’am, I am so sorry. No one ever talks to me, I just thought that you were