One of the great joys of living in our sophisticated hi-tech world is when, as I did yesterday, one has to phone a large company because one needs assistance.
Welcome to the “Choice Menu.”
It is there, a computer voice often tells you, to answer your question more quickly and efficiently.
The voice then offers you about twenty available choices and when you eventually get to one that sounds like it is the one you need, the voice invites you to say “yes.”
You say “yes.” The helpful computer voice says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you” and asks you to repeat what you just said. You say the tricky word “yes” again and the computer tells you once more it has difficulty understanding you.
You try pronouncing the word “yes” in different ways or accents and sometimes you get really lucky and the computer eventually understands that you’ve been saying a word comprised those incredibly complicated three letters.
This allows you to stop gnashing your teeth. Then the computer thanks you… and offers you twenty more choices. Teeth gnashing resumes.
No progress can be made until you hear the words “Or if you would like to speak to one of our associates” – i.e., a human being – “press Zero!”
I did all that and – finally – got to speak to an “associate.” At last, a real person. Frustration over!
Not really. The next problem was that the associate had enormous difficulty understanding a word I was saying and I had an equally difficult time understanding the associate. I was not at all sure where the person at the other end of the phone was speaking from, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t the United States.
Some time ago, kindly and considerate corporate types who thought you would love chatting to a computer also realized that if they got people in third-world countries to answer help-wanted ads for “large company phone queries” they could pay them a fraction of what they pay people here.
If the new employees can hardly speak English or understand what the person phoning from the U.S. or UK is talking about – well, who cares?
The associate seemed to be reading from a script. I explained four times what the problem was and each time he launched himself into his prepared reply. If I asked him something that wasn’t on his “set answers” sheet he grew confused and his English got even worse. Eventually the poor thing was exasperated with me and said, with some passion:
“This is not at all the way for to be doing business and you should be all ashamed of you!”
I gave up.
My mom was like that when she was suffering from dementia. Unless you knew about her condition, you might never guess there was anything wrong. She responded perfectly to normal questions like “How are you?” and if you asked her anything the wasn’t in her “script” she simply smiled sweetly at you as though you hadn’t spoken at all.
But old age doesn’t have to mean diminishing mental powers. Research shows that the more people use their brains, the less likely they are to lose their intellectual abilities. As I write these words I have only recently returned from California where my wife and I had gone to celebrate her father’s ninetieth birthday. Certainly his short-term memory is not as strong as it was, but he is sharp, clever, and full of fun. As we sat talking about physics (he was a professor of physics at Stanford University for a number of years) he said to me, “You know, YY, one who doesn’t wonder…doesn’t wonder why!” I considered that very profound indeed.
One of my other favorite nonagenarians is Leah Adler, the mother of the famous film director and producer Steven Spielberg. Mrs. Adler owns and runs a kosher restaurant in Los Angeles called The Milky Way, which offers the best fish and chips in America. It also offers the delight of being welcomed by the diminutive and charming ninety-plus-year-old owner who comes over to everyone’s table just to make sure that everything is perfect, which in my experience it always is.
On our last visit, Mrs. Adler approached our table holding the arm of one of her staff for a little support. After inquiring how we were, she explained what was on the menu. “Our soup of the day is cream of potato!” she said. Her employee whispered something into her ear and Mrs. Adler smiled apologetically. “I am so sorry, I’ve done it again. It’s not cream of potato, its cream of mushroom!”
I was keen to prevent her from being embarrassed by her mistake, so I made a joke. “Oh, don’t worry at all, Mrs. Adler,” I said, beaming. “I love mushrooms; in fact some of my best friends are mushrooms!”
Mrs. Adler didn’t blink before shooting back, “Well, they are a ‘fun guy!’ ”
If you and I are making jokes as good as that – fun guy/fungi – when we’re in our nineties, we’ll be doing very well.
The mind of a Jew who has used his brain through a lifetime of studying Torah is a treasure house of wisdom and advice – and that wisdom comes precisely from the fact its possessor is old.
This truth is contained in what seemed to be a rebuke Hashem offered Yaakov. In reality it was a blessing.
In the first verse of Parshas Vayeshev, Rashi comments on the troubles and difficulties Yaakov experienced in his old age. Yaakov wanted peace and serenity when he was engulfed in the loss of his son Yosef. Hashem said to him, “Is it not sufficient for tzaddikim what I have set aside for them in heaven that they want serenity in this world too?”
Dealing with problems and difficulties, struggling to solve them, keeps minds and people young at any age. The satisfaction stemming from our efforts to help others or to build something worthwhile keeps us relevant and vibrant. Old age? Hooey. I plan on staying a fun guy.