“Harav Silver, forgive the intrusion, but couldn’t a conversation about a teddy bear wait until we’ve closed tonight’s issue?"
When insiders in the world of frum journalism want to describe a boring article, they joke that “even the censor can’t get through it.” But Gedalya hasn’t heard of those jokes. He sits in his little room at the newspaper office, going over every word. In the middle of the most monotonous article he’s ever read, his phone rings. It’s Shifra, or as his screen informs him, nevas beiso.
He presses the green button and says, “Is it urgent?”
“No phone calls now!” Shimshon the production manager is about to go out of his mind. “Harav Silver! Please! I’m begging you! The printers say they’re going to stop working with us!”
“Gedalya.” Shifra’s voice is tight, anxious, completely unlike her usual self. “I can’t deal with this.”
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