R’ Yakov BaRuch Hertzog had a successful bakery in the Lower East Side of Manhattan that served the majority of its Jewish population. As the neighborhood’s Jewish population took a turn, so did its businesses. The store that used to bustle every Erev Shabbos started getting quieter and quieter. It got so empty that it almost didn’t pay to keep the store open. The profit was so poor that he was ready to close shop were it not for the fact that he was in contract with a local nursing home, which brought in enough to keep him open and bring in his necessary parnassa.
One Sunday afternoon, he got a call from the nursing home’s new manager, who didn’t find favor in R’ Yakov Baruch’s eyes. Every opportunity he had, he would place pressure and revolting comments. “I’d like to order diet lemon cookies and diet vanilla cookies,” the manager said. “Have them ready for tomorrow morning.”
R’ Yakov Baruch replied that he didn’t have a way to get those cookies for tomorrow. “I get them from another company,” he explained. “They are closed on Sundays. So even if I manage to get them for tomorrow, it won’t be first thing in the morning.”
The manager replied in his arrogant voice, “If you don’t have it for tomorrow morning, I’ll consider it a breach in contract, and we’ll find ourselves a new vendor.”
R’ Yakov Baruch assured him that he’ll do his best, and the phone call concluded.
That afternoon at Mincha, R’ Yakov Baruch noticed the owner of the company he orders from come and daven in his minyan. He was ecstatic to see how Hashem was orchestrating his salvation, but before he could speak to him, the chazan began Ashrei. R’ Yakov Baruch had made a kaballa not to talk during davening, even during Ashrei, and so he’d have to wait. There was no way he was going to break his kaballa, even if it meant him missing his “meeting.”
He told himself that he’ll catch the owner after davening, but when davening came and left, the supplier was nowhere to be found. He’d vanished. Yakov felt let down that the supplier, who never comes to his minyan and seemingly came just for him, was not to be found.
The next morning, the door of his store opened, and in came a Chassidishe fellow who asked if he could use the bathroom. R’ Yakov Baruch gladly showed him the way. As he was exiting, the owner asked him, “Are you the pastry delivery man?”
“Yes, that’s me,” came the response.
“What brings you here so early?” asked the owner.
“Every morning, I daven Shacharis in Williamsburg, have a short seder, and continue to Monroe to pick up the pastries for delivery. This morning, there was a big delay on the highway, and while traveling, I got caught in a gridlock. I needed the bathroom, so after I inched up to the next exit, I headed straight to your bakery in the hope that you’d be open, and B”H you were.”
“Let me ask you,” asked R’ Yakov Baruch. “Do you, by any chance, have any leftover pastries? I need diet lemon and diet vanilla cookies. Do you have?”
The Chassid told R’ Yakov Baruch that he’d check, and he went out to the empty truck. There, he spotted two boxes hiding in the corner. After a closer look, he saw that one contained diet lemon cookies, and the other diet vanilla cookies.
The store owner told him that he now knew why the delivery man needed to stop there. “You thought you came for the bathroom, but really Hashem sent you here to save another Yid’s parnassa. After your owner came for Mincha and vanished in no time, I was sure that Hashem had a better setup. Now I see. I knew that I wouldn’t have lost out because of not talking during davening, and now I see how Hashem orchestrated it.
“But even more, in all likeliness, your boss wouldn’t have known that there were two extra boxes sitting in one of his trucks. Talking to him at Mincha wouldn’t have helped me out in any way.”
Once R’ Yakov Baruch kept his contract that he had with Hashem, Hashem saw to it that R’ Yakov Baruch kept the contract with the nursing home. (Heard from R’ Shlomo Landau on Stories to Inspire)
