This morning, I got a call from a lovely man who wanted to order a cheescake as a Shavuot gift for his wife. After a few minutes of various questions and answers, he told me he was in the subway. I was impressed that his cell phone carrier was so competently keeping our call alive when we arrived at the point in the call where I needed to ask for his credit card info:
Me: “Is it secure there for you to give me your credit card number,” imagining him flanked on both sides by other riders.
Him: “Do you know Hebrew?”
Me: “Not really, but I’m probably ok at my numbers.”
So began the jogging of my memory to forage the ehad, shtayim, shalosh that I learned in day school so many years ago to obtain a Visa card number. It was actually kind of fun–he said a few numbers in Hebrew, I read them back in English. It was nice–we had formed a real partnership-2 strangers in a joint endeavor.
It was a very fruitful call: my customer’s wife is getting a delicious cheesecake and I am feeling empowered that I was able to remember my hebrew numbers–just like riding a bike! I hope you have a great day too.