What Honeywell Thermostat Company Taught me about Life

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Dear Henry,

      I am not one to usually toot my own horn, or even blow my own shofar,  but at the risk of sounding arrogant, I wanted to share with you something I did that I am proud of. You see, last Friday was a rather warm day in the Denver Metro area. We were well into the 70s, approaching the low 80s. When I went into my house I noticed it was uncomfortably hot. It was even hotter than a hot air balloon floating peacefully over an Alaskan Rain-forest. Naturally, I walked over to my Honeywell Thermostat to turn on the air conditioner for the first time all season. And as I tried lowering the temperature to a heavenly 67 degrees, to my chagrin, I remembered that for some mysterious reason my thermostat does not go lower than 72 degrees. As that unfortunate realization set in, I began to accept the fact that I would be spending the upcoming Shabbos shvitzing like a overheated porcupine in the Zimbabwean swamp lands. 

      In a state of sheer desperation, a thought flashed in my head like a bolt of colorful lightening: maybe it would be worth a shot to go ahead and call the kind folks at Honeywell to see if they could help me. Sure enough, oh Henry, that is exactly what I did. After dialing the number I spoke to a man, for anonymity sake we will call Carlos. Carlos patiently listened as I explained the issue. After putting me on hold for two minutes he gave me instructions. I followed his instructions and to my utter delight, I was able to lower my air conditioning as low as I wanted it. Apparently someone in the past had  set it up such that it could not go under 72 degrees, and for many years that was the lowest temperature the thermostat could go-- that was at least until Carlos came to the rescue.

     I genuinely was overwhelmed with joy. I pictured walking in from synagogue the next morning, eager to enter my house to escape the treacherous heat. And I envisioned that blissful feeling one experiences when walking into his colder than ice cold house on a hot summer day. Without thinking, I expressed my joy and satisfaction to Carlos, who was still on the line. I explained to him how happy he made me-- how I didn't think this thermostat issue was fixable without replacing my whole furnace. I told him that I had not experiences such joy since the day the Broncos won the Superbowl. I instinctively asked him if his manager was there so I could tell them how wonderful Carlos was to me. A bit taken aback, Carlos readily obliged and put his manager on the phone. I proceeded to describe in gory detail how helpful he was, and to express how I didn't understand how any human being in their right mind wouldn't turn Honeywell when looking for a new thermostat. 

        Upon hanging up with Carlos's manager, a lady, for the sake of anonymity we will refer to as Chelsea, I heard the furnace kick into full gear. I ran to nearest vent and places my bear hand against it, feeling the ice cold air filling up my house. Basking in joy, I started dancing. I then decided it would be appropriate to take to Twitter. I recall many times reading angry tweets people direct to companies (usually airlines) complaining about the service. I decided to take to Twitter to tweet to my hundreds of followers (you, too, my dear reader can  be included among them by following @dannywolfe1) a happy tweet, praising the Honeywell customer service.

As you can see above, I tweeted, and I know quote, "@honeywell_home I thought my thermostat was busted until your customer service guy saved the day! Great work!" Honeywell then responded, and that's when's I tweeted them the following: 

Honeywell appreciated that, and even gave me a compliment telling me I am "too funny."

    The Talmud tells us a story in Shabbos 31A about a non Jew who wanted to convert. He came before the great Sage Hillel, who told him what he needs to know about Judaism: What is displeasing to you, don't do to your companion-- this is the entire Torah, everything else is merely commentary, Now go learn!
     We see from this a very basic principle that the Torah itself alludes to when it says, "Love your neighbor like you love yourself." What we would want for ourselves we should do to others, and what we wouldn't want for ourselves, we should not to do others. That means that if I wouldn't want an angry customer criticizing me to my boss, I shouldn't be so quick to critique an employee to his boss. If I wouldn't want to be be pushed out of the line for kiddush, I shouldn't push my way to the front of the kiddush line. If I would not want to be spoken about behind my back, I should not speak about others behind their backs. If I would not want the entire audience I am speaking to during a sermon fall asleep, I also, should try my hardest not to fall asleep when other people speak. Conversely, if I would want other people to compliment my efforts to my boss, I should be quick to compliment workers to their boss. If I would want to receive an encouraging comment, I should be quick to give a nice comment. If I would want help shlepping groceries from my car, I should be quick to help others shlep groceries from their car. If I would want company and companionship when frolicking in a Kansas meadow, I should be quick to volunteer my time to friends in need of companionship. If I would want the Better Half to buy me some M&Ms from an Idaho rest stop on a long road trip, I should also be naturally inclined to buy her M&Ms at an Idaho rest stop, even if she didn't ask, and I am not a prophet who knows for sure what she wants without her communicating that to me.
      Many times in life we are quick to see, and point out, the negative in other people. But our Rabbis also teach us that if we want G-d to give us the benefit of the doubt, we sure as heck better give everyone around us the benefit of the doubt as well. There is no doubt that if we take the time to acknowledge the good in G-d's children, G-d, will take the time so to speak,  to acknowledge the good in us as well.

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe

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Rabbi D-Train's Dare

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Dear Henry,

     My name is Danny Wolfe, and I am extremely attached to my cellphone. I constantly am checking my email, regularly looking up useless articles on ESPN.com and spend way too much of my time staring robotically at my iPhone 6.0. 

      For people like me who are obsessively checking our phones, going to the grocery store can be a difficult chore. Because while we shop we are checking items off a grocery list, far removed from our email, Facebook or Twitter apps on our cell phones. That means that when we arrive at the counter, ready to check out, satisfied with our shopping experience, it doesn't take long until we realize that we have not actually checked our email in 25 minutes, or we haven't seen Facebook in that long. We might be thinking, "Oh golly, I haven't seen my email in the last half hour. Maybe someone emailed me telling me I won the lottery, or maybe I got a new 15 percent off coupon from Bed Bath and Beyond! I better check my email now to see if anything like that transpired. And, once I'm done I need to check Facebook because I am sure one of my 1600 "friends" has posted a new status update, and if I don't check now I might miss it! And while we are at it, I need to check Twitter. Adam Schefter might have a breaking update that the Broncos signed Adrian Peterson, or one of my friends may have tweeted about the beer they drank last night! And after that we might feel the need to check our Linked In app even though we don't know how to use it or why it always is sending us notifications. 

        Suddenly we wake up when the sweet cashier says,  "your total is $86.29. Will you be paying with cash or credit?" We then give a half smile and mumble "credit" as we pull out our American Express card which yields 6% cash back on groceries. We swipe the card, sign the receipt, and go on our merry way.

      I am embarrassed to admit it, but I am guilty of this on a regular basis. Let's dissect what happened here: While I was lost browsing useless information on my phone, a human being, created in none other than G-d's image was helping me by scanning and bagging my massive grocery order. And the whole time, rather than have the decency to engage them in conversation and acknowledge their humanity, I basically told them that I was waaaay too busy to acknowledge their existence with all the important business I had to take care of on my phone. And I ask, oh Henry, how would that make you feel, spending 40 hours a week scanning groceries, while hundreds of thankless people totally ignored you, taking your efforts for granted, not even bothering to lift their heads to speak to you?

       Pirkei Avos, the Jewish Talmudical tractate on ethics enjoins us to greet every person "with a kind countenance." The Talmud elsewhere instructs that it is better to give a poor person the white of their teeth (a smile) than white milk to drink. If we are going to reluctantly give a poor person a few coins with a scour on our face, we would be much better off smiling at them and saying "hello," even if we didn't end up giving them any money.  A great rabbi once said that a persons face is like public property; just like if I leave out any harmful objects extending from my property into public property I am liable to pay for the damages, so too a person's face is public property that hundreds of people encounter every day. If the frown on my face damages people, the damage is my responsibility. I will never forget how utterly depressed I felt when I used to take a train to work every day; everyone in the train appeared absolutely miserable, as if they dreaded going to work. How very sad, thought I, that by the looks on their faces, these people spend most of their lives doing something that makes them depressed.
      Thankfully my wife recently listened to a class online from her favorite rebbetzin, who discussed this at length, and mentioned how she is taking it upon herself to not use her phone in public. Hearing this inspired me tremendously, and I sadly realized how guilty I am of overusing my phone in public, particularly while checking out of grocery stores. I decided on that spot that I would take a sort of pledge to cold turkey, stop using my phone in the checkout line. If I would be offended as the oft-ignored cashier, odds are the guy behind the counter also might take offense. Let us try to make the world a better, happier, more meaningful place. I hereby dare all of my thousands upon thousands upon thousands of devoted readers across the vast expanse of the universe to make a commitment to stop using your phones in grocery stores. Heck, I triple dogg dare you. Whose down?

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe

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Superbowl or Baby?

Dear Henry,

      Usually I try to space out my posts at least a week, to keep my thousands upon thousands of dedicated fans readily awaiting my next post in suspense. I know my readers are constantly checking their twitter feeds, eagerly anticipating my next post, just as my 6th grade Nepalese Pen Pal awaited my letters in Matchu Piccu. However something happened this morning that absolutely blew my mind. The day began innocently enough. I drove my kiddies to school, and then pulled up to my bank to make a transaction. And as I pulled up, I noticed that on the ESPN Radio, Mike and Mike were talking about an interesting scenario regarding the Superbowl. You see, dear Henry, the Seahawks best player is a guy named Richard Sherman. Richard Sherman and his girlfriend happen to be expecting a child, that is due right around the same time as the Superbowl. What that means, dear Henry, is that Richard might have a little dilemma on his hands: Should he play in the Superbowl, or be present at his child's birth? Mike and Mike were discussing this very dilemma with former Denver Bronco Mark Schlereth. As I pulled up to the window, about ready to enter my pin number, my mouth literally dropped at what I heard:

Mike Greenberg: Would you have played?
Mark Schlereth:  I'da played. 
Mike Golic: What would have Lisa said? 
Mark Schlereth: Uh, Lisa? I was there for the other ones... I would play thats what I get paid to do. This is my job and this is biggest game of my life. I got 53 other guys who depend on me, and my wife understands that.... For me its a non decision I would certianly play, I'll spend the rest of my life with the kids. Heres the deal Mike, I know its hard decision..I don't know if its the right decision...

Mike Golic: "Well there is no right or wrong...I do think a high percentage of players would play..." I do believe I would have played, and would play in the Superbowl also, I'm 99.9 percent sure I would play. Herm (Edwards) said he would play, Justin Tuck said he would have played...Tim Brown would have played.... 

      After hearing this, I immediately did the mandatory ear wax check-- maybe I've suffered from a serious ear wax build up over the years and I did not hear correctly. But I soon realized that in fact my ears were cleaner than a new born infant after bath time. Henry, I got to tell you, I was stunned at what I heard. It is only two weeks after my wife gave birth to our little Princess, and I cannot fathom missing the birth. I am a rabbi, and I had the opportunity to visit Poland with 15 students that I adore, on a life changing trip, which was set two weeks before our due date. And yet, the idea never entered my mind, because of the remote possibility that my wife would go into labor early, and I would be several thousand miles away. Mark Schlereth said that he would play, because that is his job, that's what he's paid to do. I am grateful that my employers know that as much as I love and cherish my job, if ever there is a conflict between my job and my family, my family wins out all day, every day. 

      He then said that he would have to play, because, after all 53 of his teammates depend on him. I hear that, as I myself am an enormously accomplished athlete. But Mark, WHAT ABOUT YOUR WIFE? YOU KNOW, THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN YOUR LIFE?? You know, the lady you will grow old with, and build a family with?  Is it not more important for you to be there for HER?!?! And Mark, its great you'll spend the rest of your life with your kids, but what message are you conveying to them? You're all real important, but not as important as a game in which a bunch of big guys run around and tackle each other? REALLY???

      I was also dismayed over Mike Golic's authoritative claim that, "there is no right or wrong." Mike, I love you man, but I vehemently disagree with you. There is a right or wrong, and the right thing is to miss the game and be there for your partner in the most momentous moment in both of your lives. 

      After last year's 43-8 Great Debacle, (for more check out http://rabbidannywolfe.blogspot.com/2014/02/reflections-on-broncos-super-debacle-48.html)

I disdain the Seattle Seahawks with a passion, and I would love nothing more than for the New England Patriots to decimate them and quiet down their players and fans once and for all. However, if in fact Richard Sherman misses the Superbowl to be present for his baby's birth, I will become a Seahawks fan, and buy a Richard Sherman jersey for myself and my children. Because like the great Sandy Koufax before him, who missed a World Series game that was played on Yom Kippur, Richard Sherman would yet again be making a very bold, mind blowing declaration: At the end of the day, it is just a game.

Sincerely,

Danny Wolfe

Reflections on Broncos Super-Blow (out)

Dear Henry,
       My name is Danny Wolfe, and I am a Broncoholic. (For more on this see previous post, http://rabbidannywolfe.blogspot.com/2014/01/love-and-confessions-of-broncoholic.html)
I was very confident that the Denver Broncos would win Superbowl 48 against the lowly Seattle Seahawks. I made arrogant predictions to my thousands of followers worldwide on the social media. I tried to arrange campaigns to send me to the Superbowl. I had grandiose visions of Peyton Manning and Champ Bailey hoisting up the Lombardi trophy. I debated in my head if I should take off a few days and fly to Denver for the victory parade. I was so pumped up for the game, that immediately prior to going to watch it, despite the weather being about 20 degrees here, I unknowingly left my coat on the hanger at my synagogue, after reciting the evening service. I was amped up-- the adrenaline was pumping like a stream of regular unleaded gas into my glowing, golden Hyundai.
      And then the game started. And 12 seconds into the game, I had to literally pinch myself, to see if I was experiencing a nightmare. And then, after the first play of the second half, in which Percy Harvin returned the kick for a touchdown, I realized that this was no nightmare-- that in fact, I was watching the ugliest, most disturbing football game I had ever seen in my life-- the complete unravelling of the Broncos as they were absolutely demolished to the Seahawks in the Superbowl.
     During the commercial break after that touchdown, I turned my attention to Facebook-- to peruse the  statuses, and to be able to commiserate with my fellow Broncos fans. This perusal of Facebook instantly and radically changed my entire life perspective. You see, Henry, as I was looking at Facebook after the first play of the third quarter, a play that made the game an unreachable 29-0, I felt some sadness, and downright sorry for myself. And as I felt this sadness I took a glance at a status from a dear friend who less than a week ago tragically suddenly lost a very beloved, close family member. She had written a status update, vividly describing the profound pain she was experiencing, the flow of tears she had shed, and her unbearable heartbreak.  And with that jarring, eye-opening glance on Facebook, any 'pain' or 'sorrow' I had due to the Broncos game, instantly evaporated. I was coming home, alive and well, to my loving family, alive and well. There is nothing in the world that I have a right to be sad about, or to complain about.
     Upon reaching this stirring realization, I reflected to myself, that literally about 48 hours earlier, I was by the bedside of a comatose young teenager, praying for his full recovery, as a dear friend of mine played the guitar for him.  And the timing of all of this hit me like a ton of bricks: Within a five day span, on one hand, a dear friend experienced such a tragic loss, and I am by the bedside of a child who is in a coma, and l'havdil elef havdalos, on the other side, the Broncos lose the Superbowl by 35 points. The enormity of the difference between these events gave me extreme clarity.  I learned from the proximity of these three events a very stark lesson: I need to be exceedingly grateful for every gift I have, and G-d forbid I should ever, ever pity myself over something as stupid as a meaningless game.
      The Torah teaches us, Eizeh hu Ashir? HaSameach b'Chelko. Who is rich, the one who is happy with what he has.  Each and every one of us, no matter how difficult life can be at time, still has a tremendous amount for what we can be grateful. No matter how bad any one in the world ever has it, there is always someone else, who would trade places with them in a heartbeat. (For more on this see http://www.aish.com/sp/f/48968901.html).
     The night of the Super Bowl, I did not sleep well-- but not because the Broncos lost-- but because of the genuine pain I felt for my friend.
     This stirring experience taught me one crucial lesson about football that I would like to convey to hundreds of thousands of my fellow Broncos fans world-wide, still seeped in a deep depression after the brutal loss: It's just a lousy game.