Last night…
Last night, at the ‘Juliet, Naked’ signing in Selfridges, a nice woman told me that we’d met before, a few years ago, at another event.
“You gave me some advice when I was applying to college.”
“What did I say?”
“I had two choices, and you told me to go for the less prestigious one because I’d enjoy the work more.”
“What did you do?”
“I ignored you, and went to the more prestigious one.”
“And?”
“I hated every moment of it.”
We both laughed uproariously, but inside, I was seething. Really, what is the point of dispensing rabbinical wisdom if you people are just going to take no notice? If you’re coming to an event over the next few weeks, in the UK and the US, with the express purpose of asking me for my guidance in professional or matrimonial matters, I really must insist that you do what I say, otherwise the whole thing is a waste of my time and yours. (There may be a simple but legally binding document for you to sign.) And if you wish to talk about relationship matters, please bring your partner with you. I can’t be expected to decide whether you should marry somebody without all the necessary facts at my disposal.
