“It's Your Imagination Running Wild” – Brian Wilson

It has been said that most Americans have a crisis at least once a decade. Danny Sanders was no exception to that rule. In fact, he was close to setting the country's new crisis curve.

Danny was a member of the Crisis-of-the-Month Club. He's been down and out about money, his career, and he was especially distraught when he was diagnosed with Color Uncoordinated Syndrome (CUS), which wreaked havoc on his wardrobe. Nonetheless, his latest breakdown put more strain on him than all the previous crises combined. Luckily, this episode had a happy ending.

It all started when his second child was born. On the way to their favorite hospital, Danny's wife couldn't hold out any longer. Amidst Jennifer's screams and curses from her painful contractions, Danny pulled into the closest medical facility he could find.

This particular hospital had a reputation for providing mediocre medical care at best, and being the source of irreversible nightmares at worst. Danny wouldn't feel comfortable leaving a houseplant in their care, but at this late hour, he had no choice.

Surprisingly enough, the emergency Cesarean section went smoothly and was performed by an exceptional staff. However, Danny noticed that his newborn daughter looked nothing like him or Jennifer, nor did she resemble either set of grandparents. They began to entertain the notion that the hospital accidentally switched their baby with another one in the nursery shortly after birth. As the baby grew, however, Danny and Jennifer managed to control their overactive imaginations and banished this silly notion.

After their daughter's 9^th birthday, their worst fear began to materialize. A registered letter came from the hospital where their daughter was born. The letter was cryptic, but was urgent in tone and hinted at DNA tests and out-of-court settlements. The parents were invited to meet with the head of the hospital the following morning.

Danny and Jennifer didn't sleep all night. They kept conjuring up the worst possible scenarios of losing their daughter, whom they loved more than life itself. They were playing images in their head of getting custody of their biological daughter who would no doubt be the victim of a decade of parental abuse, given the nature of the hospital's clientèle. Danny was prepared to hire a team of lawyers to sue the hospital. Years of law suits and counter-suits would be their lot for the next several years as they would fight to keep both girls.

All his other crises combined couldn't hold a candle to the desperation and anguish he felt from the time he received the letter to the visit to the hospital the next morning. He couldn't dream up a solution to get them out of this heart-wrenching situation.

The next morning, the anxious parents sat down in the hospital administrator's office at 9 A.M. sharp. The hospital head was flanked by a social worker and a woman Danny recognized as the gynecologist who performed the surgery on his wife.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, thank you so much for coming today. I'm sure you are upset so I'll cut right to the chase,” the man said.

“Upset is an understatement,” Danny said.

“Your baby was accidentally substituted with another baby at birth,” the administrator said, with a grave expression.

Danny looked at Jennifer and saw tears streaming down her face. Danny wanted to cry as well, but he needed to strong for her. However, Danny did allow his anger to surface.

“How could you be so careless? I wouldn't even expect this from a clinic in a third world country, and here we are in the United States in the 21^st century witnessing criminal negligence! I'm going to make sure this hospital's doors are closed forever,” Danny started.

“I understand you are outraged. Who wouldn't be? But please, let me continue,” the administrator stated calmly.

Danny decided to stop raging and hear the guy out.

“We corrected the problem within 24 hours and returned the infants to their biological mothers. We ran a series of DNA tests just to double-check ourselves, and the situation was rectified.” he stated calmly.

Danny and Jennifer both breathed a huge sigh of relief. But what were these clowns up to? Why were they messing with their minds?

“Why did you have to send us a letter and worry us if nothing was wrong? Are you some kind of a masochist?” Jennifer asked.

“I apologize, but writing an ambiguous letter was the only way we could get you to show up today,” the social worked chimed in. “You see, the story didn't end when we corrected the switch.”

“What are you talking about?,” Danny asked.

“While the switch with the babies was corrected, another set of DNA test results were accidentally placed in your daughter's medical file. This paperwork was stolen by the other girl's parents. Apparently they were holding on to this information until the time was right to hold “your” daughter ransom. They were planning a de facto kidnapping.” the OB-GYN stated.

“When we caught wind of this a few weeks ago, we called them into the office to explain that in addition to stealing hospital documentation, which is a federal offense, they took the wrong documents. They were disappointed that they wouldn't be getting a windfall from you. As a result, they decided to give their child up for adoption, “ the administrator said.

“And where do we fit in?” Danny asked.

“We told them we wouldn't press charges in exchange for their written request that the two of you be their daughter's legal guardians. We wanted you to have the first chance to adopt the girl and avoid all the months of paperwork that accompany the standard adoption process,” the social worker said.

“So why didn't you just explain that to us over the phone instead of putting us through this living hell?” Jennifer asked.

“If we had done that, would you have bothered showing up today?” the social worker asked.

Danny stopped to think about it for a while, and realized that they wouldn't consider adoption under normal circumstances. The hospital staff felt they had to create an abnormal situation that would motivate them to consider adoption.

“This child wasn't abused, but she was neglected. She's bright and warm, and from what my intuition tells me, the two of you could provide her with a stable and loving home,” the social worker said. “You don't have to give us an answer right now. You can take some time to think about it.”

Danny looked into his wife's eyes, and he knew her answer, which concurred with his.

“Just tell us what we need to do, and we will adopt her ASAP,” Danny said.

Three days later, their new daughter was home. Her parents would not agree to meet with them, perhaps out of shame about their foiled ransom plan, or maybe out of apathy about their daughter's future.

The nature/nurture problem played itself out for a few months, but eventually their newest addition to the family adapted well to her “twin sister” and the rest of the clan.

Danny and Jennifer were thankful that their collective imagination was wrong in creating painful scenarios that fateful night before their meeting at the hospital. In addition to the challenge of adoption and the joy of loving another human being unconditionally, they learned an important lesson. If they are going to let their imaginations run wild, then they should at least direct their thoughts in a neutral or positive direction. That was a mindset worth adopting.

-- --

Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and training sessions at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book, "Take Two: Directing Your Life for a Change" will be published in May. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com.

© Copyright 2009 by Ben Goldfarb

Negotiable Dates

Beth stared at her computer screen at work. She just turned 35, old enough to run for president of the United States. However, she was still not married and stuck in a dead-end job that didn't speak to her soul. What's worse is she submitted a demo CD of her original music to a producer a year ago and Beth still hasn't yet responded to the pleas to move forward. What would it take for her to get out of her rut?

Each quarter, like clockwork, Beth receives a hand written note, barely legible, from her producer, Renée, telling her that she loves Beth's demo. Renée asks again and again when they can meet. For some bizarre reason, Beth refuses to respond.

Sometimes our situation gets so bad that we force ourselves to take action. Beth's biological clock was ticking and her dating options seemed to be decreasing. Her job, producing children's music CDs, was so below her level of talent that she often cried at work. Her situation was hitting rock bottom.

Beth vowed that during her lunch hour she would go to Renée's office, introduce herself, apologize, and then talk about producing her CD. She looked at the return address on Renee's last note and left.

It was easy to find Renée's office. She found a parking space and went to the 10th floor. At the reception desk, she was told that there is no one named Renée at the studio.

"There must be some kind of mistake," Beth said. "Here's a notes she wrote me on your company stationery."

The receptionist looked at the card and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Beth asked.

"His handwriting is so bad," the receptionist said.

"What do you mean "his" handwriting? Renée is a woman's name," Beth said.

"The producer's name is René, with one "e". That's a guy's name in French. René told me that if you ever show up I should bring you right into his office even if he is in the middle of a meeting," the receptionist explained.

Beth was in shock. Was this René character interested in her or her music?

The receptionist buzzed René with what appeared to be a code word. Beth was ushered into René's office as his 11:00 meeting came to an abrupt end. René winked at the receptionist and then motioned for Beth to take a seat on plush black leather chair in front of his desk.

Beth felt like she was in the midst of some kind of elaborate prank or joke. But René was one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on, so she relaxed and decided to enjoy the conspiracy.

"Nice to meet you finally, Beth," René said.

Beth scanned the walls. They were covered with pictures of René and a number of famous recording artists. Despite his obvious wealth and fame, René seemed very down to earth and easygoing. He also wasn't wearing a wedding band.

"First of all, I want to apologize for not responding to your notes," Beth said.

"No problem. It's all about timing. Maybe the public wasn't ready for your music until now," René offered.

"Thanks for your understanding," Beth said.

"Let's cut to the chase. Your music is haunting, beautiful, original, and will be a commercial success. I want to record you," René said.

"Are you serious?" Beth asked.

"There are two things I don't joke about. Music is one of them," René said.

"What's the other thing?" Beth asked.

"We'll get to that later," René said.

"So what's the next step?" Beth asked

"I need you to record three more tracks, then we will produce the CD. If you have a day job, then we will open up the studio at night. We will work around your schedule," René said.

Beth's self-esteem was so low that she was convinced that René had ulterior motives and he was just pretending to like her music. Of course, she wouldn't mind dating him, but she still wanted an honest opinion about her music.

"I don't know what to say," Beth said.

"Take the contract. I wrote it up after I heard your demo a year ago. Have your lawyer look it over. We can negotiate as your attorney sees fit, and let's sign and move forward," René said.

"On a more personal note, I have something for you," René added.

"What is it?" Beth asked.

"My wedding invitation." he said as he handed her a white envelope.

Beth's mood plummeted. She felt herself sinking into a deep depression that even a 24/7 Prozac drip wouldn't cure.

"Congratulations," Beth said in a whisper.

"Please read it," René said.

Beth noticed that there was no name of the bride on the card, nor was the date listed on the invitation.

"This has a few pieces missing," Beth said.

"I realize that. I will negotiate the date with you, but not the name of the bride," René said with a smile.

"Excuse me?" Beth asked.

"You heard me. The other thing I don't joke about besides music is choice of soul mates. I fell in love with you when I heard your music a year ago," René said.

"This is so sudden," Beth said.

"As I mentioned, the date is negotiable," René said. "Can we talk about it over lunch?"

"You've got a date," Beth said as they left the office.

Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and training sessions at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book, "Take Two: Directing Your Life for a Change" will be published next year. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com

© Copyright 2008 by Ben Goldfarb

Time Customs

Their wedding, which was only three days ago, was a faint memory of smiling relatives, kamikaze photographers, and spicy Mexican food. Linda and Jon were ready for their two week honeymoon in the Caribbean. They only had to clear customs and then good times would begin. Unfortunately, this wasn’t going to be an easy task considering the baggage they were carrying.

As the newlyweds were having their luggage X-rayed, the custom officer’s eyes widened as he looked into the screen. He called over his colleagues, who were amazed at what they saw.

“Is something wrong?” Jon asked.

“We will let you know in a moment, sir,” the customs officer said.

Linda and Jon were about as straight laced as they came. Linda hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in 6 years. She had never abused drugs and made it a point to always treat them nicely.

Jon was an ardent Seventh Day Adventist and a little league coach. The chances of them smuggling anything worse than charity brochures was highly unlikely.

“Could the two of you come with us please?” the officer asked.

“Wow, some honeymoon,” Linda said.

The couple was escorted to a private office which had both the insignia of the customs department and the ministry of tourism.

“My name is Fredrick Smythe, and I am the Minister of Tourism on the Island,” a well-dressed man said.

“Thanks for the warm greeting,” Jon said.

“I’m really sorry to disturb your vacation, but our sophisticated equipment revealed something rather alarming,” the minister said.

“What are you talking about?” Jon asked.

“Unless we have to recalibrate our machinery, our information leads us to believe that you, Linda, have a tendency to focus way too much on the past,” the minister said.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but I smell a law suit,” Jon threatened.

“Please hear me out,” the minister said.

“Jon, this is fascinating, please let him talk,” Linda pleaded.

“Furthermore,” the minister continued,” you, Jon, are obsessed with the future.”

“That may or may not be true, but that’s not the point. I want to know why you are harassing innocent tourists with your pseudo-scientific X-ray apparatus?” Jon asked.

“Our island is all about living in the present. Our vacation spot is about capturing and relishing the moment,” the minister explained.

“Yeah, so?” Jon asked.

“We have no advertising budget on our Island. We have thousands of tourists who come here every year based on word-of-mouth advertising from happy tourists. We have no natural resources to speak of, nor any industry, and our economy would collapse without our tourist trade.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Linda asked.

“Given your present state, neither one of you is going to enjoy your trip. Linda, you will be too focused on what happened to you before you came here. And you, Jon, you will be too concerned about what’s going to happen to you when the honeymoon is over,” the minister explained.

“I’m really getting sick of this psycho-babble,” Jon said.

“Jon, give him a chance. He seems to have our best interest in mind,” Linda said.

“In any event, after you leave, both of you will end up bad-mouthing our island, when in fact, it will be your own fault if you don’t enjoy yourselves,” the minister explained. “We are cracking down on people who will give our island a poor reputation.”

“So what do you want from us?” Jon asked.

“Unless you are committed to changing, we will send you to a neighboring island, all expenses paid, upgrade your hotel accommodations and give you three-thousand dollars worth of entertainment coupons,” the minister said.

“Sweet,” Jon said.

“Don’t get me wrong. Given your present headspace, you’ll have a bad time there as well, but at least they have an advertising budget to offset the bad press,” he stated.

“And our other option?” Linda asked.

“You can make a temporary decision to live in the present and enjoy yourselves,” the minister offered.

“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll leave you alone for a few moments while you make up your mind. Please have some coffee and pastries while I’m gone,” the minister said, and then he walked out of the office.

“I say let them fly us somewhere else and upgrade our trip. We can blow three bills on food and gambling.” Jon said.

“Maybe this is a chance to improve ourselves,” Linda offered.

“This is supposed to be a honeymoon, not a self-help seminar. Let’s go for it and leave this flaky island.” Jon said.

“But Jon, I think there’s something to learn from all of this,” Linda said.

“Okay, whatever. Let’s give it our best shot and live in the …what did he call it again?” Jon asked.

“The present…,” Linda offered.

“Right… the present. We haven’t spent much time there. I wonder what it’s like?” Jon asked.

“I guess we can find out now.” Linda said.

The newlyweds told the minister their decision, and he drove them to their hotel himself.

They had a great time. In fact, they created an amazing foundation upon which they built their marriage. Of course they had to learn lessons from the past and plan for the future, but if you aren’t in the moment, they learned, then what’s the point?

After two weeks in present paradise, they arrived at the airport early so they could speak with the ministry of tourism. He was waiting for them in his office.

“So, did you enjoy your trip?” he asked

“Yes, it was awesome,” Linda said.

“I never thought I would say this, but thanks for your advice,” Jon said.

“You can feel free to go back to your old perceptions of time if you would like to,” the minister offered.

“You know what, I think we are going to leave our previous views of time in the past,” Jon said.

“As you wish,” the minister said. “Come see us again sometime.”

With that, Jon and Linda boarded the plane to continue a series of present moments that would make up their future.

-- -- --
Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and training sessions at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book, "Take Two: Directing Your Life for a Change" will be published next year. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com.

© Copyright 2008 by Ben Goldfarb

The Return of Aunt Gloria

Aunt Gloria (http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=JPost%2FJPArticle%2FShowFull&cid=1212659717723) enjoyed complaining about everything that was wrong with the world. She was filled with scathing attacks on the Universe’s inability to cater to her every want and need. Unless Aunt Gloria underwent some kind of drastic change, she would go to the grave with gripes against every human being and institution with whom she ever had contact. The time for change was today.

Aunt Gloria woke up groggy after a fitful sleep involving dreams of twin sisters, genetic cloning, and a clip from the Democratic Convention in which Barack Obama selected himself as his own running mate.

She pulled herself together and went to the gym. Even though she was in her early 70s, she worked out three days a week. Before, during and after her workout, she criticized the poor service she received at the club.

Gloria looked down and reached into her purse to get her membership badge. As she handed the tag to the attendant, she had a strange sensation that she was looking at herself. Gloria thought this was just a pre-coffee anomaly caused by the club’s mirrors and poor lighting, and didn’t think much of it.

As she started her rounds on the treadmill, Gloria noticed that all the trainers, male and female, were her exact duplicate. Gloria screamed and ran out of the club still wearing her workout clothes.

Everywhere she went, she was greeted by Aunt Gloria clones. This included the conductors on the subways, the anchormen on the news, and New York City’s finest who were handing out tickets and chasing after muggers. Aunt Glorias were making drug deals, selling used cars, and peddling hot dogs on street corners.

Each encounter with her clones shocked her less as the novelty wore off. Gloria realized that that she was being tested from Above. She went along with the experience, and received service from tens of Aunt Gloria’s throughout the day in cafes, restaurants, and retail outlets.

As the sun was beginning to set on the most bizarre day of her life, she ranked the quality of service that she received from her own personas throughout the day. The service ranged from poor, mediocre, to excellent.

She then thought of herself as a consumer and decided to rate herself as the recipient of the service. Her affect towards those giving her service was at times excellent, sometimes mediocre and at other times downright rude.

She went to Central Park and found a quiet place to regroup. She looked up to the heavens and began a monologue, perhaps the first one in her life that wasn’t drenched in negativity and cynicism.

“I understand why You did this to me. I’ve been egocentric for as long as I can remember. I promise that I will be more caring towards others. I promise I’ll lower my ridiculously high expectations of others and I will raise my own standards of how I treat people.”

“I will keep all of my promises on one condition. Please, I beg of you, please return the world to the way it was when I went to sleep last night. Only one Gloria. Just one. Turn everyone back to themselves. One of me is enough for this world.”

A jogger approached her from behind and nearly knocked her over. Gloria was about to scream at the runner, but stopped herself when she realized the jogger looked nothing like her. Her prayers had been answered. It was time for her to keep her end of the deal. The world had reverted back to itself and there was only one Aunt Gloria.

Although she slipped on occasion, for the most part Gloria kept her promises. By doing so, she gave the world a better self. The world now had an inhabitant who was tolerant, accepting, and a pleasure to be around. The new and improved Gloria enjoyed helping others. The few times when she allowed herself to be pampered, she was a pleasure to serve. At the end of the day, the world would be a better place with more Aunt Glorias.

-- -- --
Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and training sessions at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book, "Take Two: Your Second Chance to Create the Life you Want" will be published next year. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com.

© Copyright 2008 by Ben Goldfarb

The Court of Last Divorce

One more signature and the divorce would be final. They had tried everything to stay together. Marriage counselors, gurus, and even low fat yogurt. Nothing seemed to put an end to their non-stop fighting and threats.

So instead of celebrating their 20th anniversary in Las Vegas, hitting the casinos and getting a tan by the pool, Jamie and Ronald were waiting in court to get the world's fastest divorce.

Judge Walter Sanders, who was decked out in full legal regalia, wasn't a big talker. He just wanted to make sure both parties wanted a divorce before he filled out the paperwork, collected his fee, and went on to dissolve the next marriage.

Shortly after their preliminary discussion, Judge Sanders excused himself to get something from the next room. Seconds after he left, Geraldine, the gardener, came into the office to water the plants.

Geraldine was tall, athletic, and had a kind face with a knowing smile. She asked the couple if they minded if she went about her work. They agreed with a shrug, avoiding any eye contact with her.

Geraldine watered a few plants and then asked the couple, "Would you say y'all have 5 or 6 basic arguments?"

"Excuse me?" Ronald asked.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just curious," Geraldine said.

Jamie answered, "I guess we have 5 arguments."

Ronald countered, "I'd say more like 15 or 16 different ones a day."

"Whatever," Jamie said, as she raised her eyes to the ceiling and groaned.

Geraldine continued her work in silence.

"Why do you want to know?" Ronald asked.

"No reason, really. I was just curious," Geraldine said.

"Come on, you must have had a reason to ask us," Jamie said.

"I've seen a lot of couples come through here. I listen closely, and notice that their fights usually boil down to the same 5 or 6 arguments," the gardener observed.

"Yeah, so?" Ron asked.

"So it breaks my heart when couples split up when they don't have to, " Geraldine said.

"This is really none of your business, " Ronald said.

"I know. That's why I shut up," Geraldine said.

"But you started this whole thing," Jamie said.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just nosey. Sorry," Geraldine answered.

"Well, as long as you are prying into our personal life, I'll pry into yours," Ronald said.

"Pry away," Geraldine offered.

"You married?" Ron asked

"Yes, for the second time. My first marriage ended after a few months. His decision. The second marriage is heading into its 20th year," Geraldine said.

"Just like us…well, what would have been us," Jamie said, with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"Both marriages involved, and do involve, the same 5 or 6 arguments," Geraldine said.

"Really?" Ronald asked.

"Hubby number one didn't want to stick around to resolve our differences, so I didn't even put up a fight," Geraldine said with no hint of regret in her voice.

"What about husband number two? How do you deal with the fighting?" Jamie asked.

"Usually with humor," Geraldine answered.

"Can you give us an example?" Ronald asked.

"Well, when he starts argument number 5, I respond with my defense for argument 3, and we just start laughing," Geraldine explained.

"That's it?" Jamie asked.

"Well, there's more to it than that. But once we understood we have the same arguments over and over, we wrote out the solutions on paper," Geraldine said. "When the argument breaks out, we just calmly hand over the appropriate slip of paper to the other."

"You make it sound so simple," Ron said.

"Y'all make it sound so hard," Geraldine countered.

"Anyway, I'll get back to work. If y'all ever want to talk, give me a call. The Judge has my number. I get calls from couples all the time," Geraldine explained.

"I thought you were a gardener?" Jamie asked.

"Yes, I am. I am involved with growth and development. I pick weeks when I have to, but I almost never uproot what's been planted. Here comes the judge. Gotta run," Geraldine said, and then she left the Judge's chamber.

"You have to sign some documents now," the Judge said upon his return.

"No we don't," Ronald announced.

"What? You've been wanting this divorce for years. Now you are backing out?" Jamie asked.

"Yes, and so are you. Let's go celebrate our anniversary," Ronald said.

"Really?" Jamie asked.

"Yes. Let's go. We can call Geraldine later and give her the good news," Ronald said.

"You can do as you wish, but I'm going to charge you the full fee plus a fine for processing all of this paperwork," the Judge said sternly.

"No problem. Just tell me what I owe you," Ronald said.

They settled with the judge and got Geraldine's number.

The couple left, and the Judge was left alone with the gardener. Jamie and Ronald ended up at Geraldine's home that evening for dinner and were surprised to find out the identity of her husband.

"Walter?" Geraldine asked.

"Yes, Geraldine," the Judge answered.

"I think you should increase my split from 40 to 50%," Geraldine said.

"Is this argument 3 or 5?" the judge asked.

"I don't care what number you give the argument, I want my 50%, and I want it now," Geraldine said.

"You drive a hard bargain," the Judge said.

"Tell me something I don't know," Geraldine said.

"Okay, you got your 50% sweetheart. I'll put it in writing tonight," the Judge said.

"I knew you'd see it my way, honey," Geraldine said, kissing her husband lightly on the cheek.

Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and training sessions at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book, "Take Two: Your Second Chance to Create the Life You Want" will be published next year. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com

If I were president

Every weekday at 11:00 A.M, Monday through Friday, three retired professionals used to meet at the same café in Manhattan. They passed their time complaining about the government, society, and the inefficiency of the post office. After they ran out of things to critique, they paid their bill, left a hefty tip, and went home to their wives, who had some complaints of their own. But thanks to the FBI, today was going to follow a different pattern.

Peter Hart was the ringleader of the malcontents. After the preliminary discussions about which prescription drugs they were taking, which of their friends had died or was playing dead, Peter would chime in with his favorite line, “If I were President of this country, things would be a hell of a lot different.”

The other gentlemen, ex-patriots of England and Israel, took their cue and swore that if they were the Prime Minister of England and Israel, respectively, the entire free world would have a different look and feel.

Just as Peter was talking about the soaring price of crude oil and how he could make the US less dependent upon fossil fuels, three men in black approached their table.

“Are you Peter Hart?” one of the men said.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Peter answered.

“Please come with us. The three of you are under arrest,” the man continued.

“For what? Over-tipping?” Peter said and started laughing.

The FBI agents retained their stoic expression. They displayed their FBI badges and one of them began reciting the Miranda rights.

“Spare yourselves the right to remain silent garbage. I’m a retired lawyer. You’ve got nothing on the three of us and if you leave now, I won’t sue your boss,” Peter threatened.

“The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you will get back home,” the taller of the men said like an annoyed camp counselor.

“And if we refuse?” Peter asked.

“You will be resisting arrest, and things will get a little sticky,” he said. “You and your friends can leave the café with or without handcuffs. We’ll have you back home in a few hours.”

“If I were president of the US, law abiding citizens wouldn’t be hauled off by power hungry FBI agents,” Peter said.

The cantankerous trio cooperated reluctantly and left the café amidst the stares of customers and waitresses.

They were escorted into a waiting SUV, and drove for a few moments. Before they got out of the vehicle, they were blindfolded. When their blindfolds were removed, they were sitting in a movie theater.

“I’m going to win this lawsuit. You guys don’t stand a chance. I’ve got years of experience fighting the big guys,” Peter said.

The assistant director of the FBI walked out on stage. “Sorry for the inconvenience, gentlemen. You’ve been chosen to take part in a simulation,” he said.

“Chosen without our permission,” Peter said.

“It’s all legal. The FBI has lawyers too, you know,” the assistant director said.

“So what’s this all about?” Tom, the British ex-patriot said, uttering his first words since the ordeal began.

“Using our sophisticated computers, we are simulating a world in which Peter is the President of the United States, Tom is the Prime Minister of England, and Uri is the PM of Israel,” he continued.

“We made a list of your strengths and weaknesses and compared them to the current men in power. We then extrapolated what kind of world we would have if the three of you were in charge,” the assistant director said.

“Don’t you have better things to do with the taxpayers’ money? “ Uri, the expatriate Israeli asked.

“We see this as a worthwhile investment,” he continued, “Anyway, we selected various factors to judge your success in your respective offices: Economic benchmarks such as cost of living and inflation rate, statistics on violent crime, and the number of terrorist incidents. Let’s take a look,” he said and the lights dimmed.

Three films played one after the other, with various economic, social, and postal statistics flashing on the screen.

The men witnessed press conferences with each one of them behind the microphone, spewing out powerful rhetoric. While their new world order had increased rights for the elderly, government subsidies for high fiber foods, and increased efficiency at the post office, the world still looked and felt the same.

“What exactly is the point of this virtual nonsense?” Peter asked.

“We just ran the film. The interpretation is up to you. Thanks for your time. We will take you back home now,” the assistant director said, and he walked off the stage.

The three men hibernated for a few days. They didn’t make their 11 o’clock meeting at the café for a full week. After some intense sulking, Peter made a few calls and the dynamic trio was up and running again.

Peter reasoned that history was a complex interplay of Destiny and human effort. Their toil seemed to be a condition, a pre-requisite as it were, as opposed to an actual catalyst for change.

Even though the three of them couldn’t change the world as heads of state, they were convinced they could make a positive impact on their corner of the universe.

The next week, the group met at the cafe, but for Sunday brunch and with their wives. On Monday and Thursdays, the three volunteered at a soup kitchen to help put real food in real hungry stomachs.

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, each man went to a different inner-city high school to volunteer for a mentoring program. Fridays were designated for some self-indulgence involving poker games, cigars, and bowling.

The three men had learned a great deal from their FBI experience. Their complaining quotient decreased and their well being increased even if their letters still arrived late.

A match made in K-mart

Sam was a disgruntled K-mart manager going through a mid-life crisis. Nancy was a feminist social worker who was unaware that the 60s were over. From their meeting at a modest bastion of retail America, they were destined to change their views on marriage and music.

Nancy just finished shopping for the battered women at the halfway house where she volunteered. The women were comprised of drug addicts, teenage runaways, and shoplifters. The irony wasn't lost on her as the shoplifting alarm went off.

She was escorted into the manager's office by Jon, the assistant manager. The alarm was ringing in her head like the cacophonous droning of a Country & Western singer who genetically mutated into a train whistle.

Jon's dream was to be a policeman, but for some reason, the Police Academy kept refusing his application. Perhaps catching this shoplifter would be his lucky break to jump start his police training.

Nancy was equipped with an internal guilt meter. When she tried to lie, she would start laughing and give herself away. Stealing wasn't part of her vocabulary. She was enjoying the adrenaline rush of being a shoplifting suspect and committed to savoring the experience.

Sam was irritated when his cell phone went off. Fourth shoplifting of the day, he thought. When was he going to have time to micro-manage and intimidate his employees if he had to keep interrogating shoplifting suspects? Willie Nelson never had to put up with these things.

His mood shifted dramatically when he saw Nancy. He absolutely, totally, and uncontrollably fell in love with this remnant of Haight-Ashbury. Nancy had fire in her eyes and humor in her soul. Perhaps he could break his vow of never marrying again.

Nancy was moved by Sam's gentle aura, but she protected herself by repeating her favorite mantra: "Marriage is State-Sanctioned Slavery."

"Hi, I'm Sam, the manager. I understand there's some kind of problem here," Sam started.

"I'm Nancy. There's no problem at all. I was just curious what a K-mart manager's office looks like. Your assistant manager was kind enough to let my dream come true," Nancy said.

Sam smiled, but Jon kept his G.I. Joe vigilance.

"Should I call the police, boss?" Jon asked.

"Jon, chill out. You know our machine malfunctions occasionally," Sam said.

"Yeah, but not this time. I found the stolen goods in her purse," Jon said, proud of his due diligence.

Jon put the "evidence" on Sam's desk. The bag was filled with men's items that a feminist wouldn't dream of purchasing for either gender.

Sam and Nancy began laughing. Jon didn't share in the mirth.

"Jon, do me a favor and go wait on some customers."

"But, Sam...," Jon whined, picturing yet another rejection letter from the Police Academy.

"Now. This moment. Go." Sam insisted.

Jon left, disappointed that he couldn't notify the local police force of his exploit.

"Nancy, you are the victim of the oldest shoplifting trick in the book," Sam said.

"Would you care to share with the rest of the class, Sam?" Nancy asked.

"The real shoplifter plants stolen goods in the bag of the customer in front of him. The alarm sounds, and the real thief walks away in the ensuing confusion," he explained.

"I see. Well, at least I got to see your office. I'm not sure if my life can get any better than this," she said.

"I'd like to present you with a $100 gift certificate to make up for your bad experience this afternoon," Sam offered.

"How about if you keep the coupon and we go out for a cup of coffee instead," Nancy said.

Sam's eyes lit up. "Let's go. I'll let Jon run the store for a while. Maybe he'll find some real criminals while I'm gone," Sam said.

And thus their romance began. Six months later in a Las Vegas chapel, their single lives were officially upgraded to State-Sanctioned Bliss.

Although he grew up on Country & Western, Sam started listening to Nancy's music and became a connoisseur of 60s rock.

Nancy learned about capitalism as she spearheaded the K-mart internship program where her halfway house women worked afternoon shifts at the store.

Sam's mid-life crisis had turned into a mid-life opportunity as he took an active role in the internship program. Although he couldn't get Nancy to listen to more than one Country & Western hit a day, he did help her realize that capitalism wasn't all bad.

Jon was accepted to the Police Academy on a part-time basis. Back at K-mart, he began dating a 20-year-old recovering alcoholic who worked in sporting goods. She taught him a thing or two about forgiveness, giving the benefit of the doubt, and state-of-the-art scuba diving equipment.

Ben Goldfarb was born and raised in El Paso, Texas, and is a graduate of the
University of Texas at Austin. He moved to Israel in 1988. He is the founder and director of Paradigm Shift Communications. He has given seminars and training sessions at Israel Aircraft Industry and Philips Medical Systems. His book, "Double Feature: A Nostalgic Peek into the Future" will be published next year. He lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem. For more information about his coaching practice, visit the Paradigm Shift Communications website, or send an email to ben@pdshiftcoaching.com
© Copyright 2008 by Ben Goldfarb