Baruch Hashem, our youth programs had been successfully integrated in many schools throughout the city, but there was one Jewish school, Oheb Shalom*, that kept giving me the polite runaround. It was frustrating, because I knew how much of an impact even the Matza Bakery could make, but there was nothing else I could do.
I was scheduled to bring the Matza Bakery to a certain Chabad house, so I loaded up all my paraphernalia and ordered an Uber Pool. I hoped that I’d be lucky enough to get a solo ride, but my driver picked up not one, but two additional riders. My arms were filled with awkward, bulky items that took up precious space in the small car, and it was hard to ignore. One of my fellow riders, a sweet elderly woman, asked where I was “headed with all those tools.” I gave her a brief explanation, and she nodded, pleased.
“Have you ever brought one of these programs to Oheb Shalom?” she asked.
“Funny you should ask,” I replied. “I’ve been trying to contact them...”
“Say no more,” she said. “You’re in.”
As it happened, she was an influential member of the board, and managed to convince the school with one short text. The school loved the Matza Bakery so much, they also booked many of our other experiences.
“It’s the strangest thing,” the woman commented, pocketing her phone. “I’m on my way to the dentist, but I didn’t mean to order an UberPool. I can’t figure out why I made such a mistake!”
“I can,” I said, with a smile.
*Names changed to protect privacy
