We've all heard of the expression, "You can't generalize."
Before reading this article, please repeat the expression to
yourselves several times. The examples we cite are not
typical of the whole community. But, unfortunately, they do
exist, and people who run a gemach cope with clients like
these every day, and are only too familiar with them.
Last year, just before Pesach when I was halfway inside my
fridge, trying to get into all the corners, the phone rang.
It was a good friend of mine who runs a crib gemach. I
continued working as I listened on my cordless in disbelief
to my usually even tempered friend.
"Guess what I'm doing at this moment?" she stormed. "Instead
of cleaning away the last bits of chometz and
finishing up the kitchen, I'm in the bathroom. Can you hear
the water? And what do you think I'm doing in the bathroom?
I'm cleaning cribs, and more cribs."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because everyone has suddenly remembered to return things
which they borrowed from me. And Pesach is also a time when
cribs are in great demand for visiting children. So when
someone phones and asks if they can return an article, I am
only too pleased. But I remind them to make sure it is
clean, and in the same condition as when they borrowed it.
It happens repeatedly that the cribs are far from clean,
which is putting it mildly.
It infuriates me each time. Yesterday, when a young man
returned a dirty cot full of sticky fingermarks, I pointed
out that it had not been cleaned. "Oh, don't you call that
clean?" he said, and hurriedly left the house.
"Sometimes they send children who can hardly drag the
mattress, let alone the rest of the cot, though we do make a
point of asking them not to let children return the items,
which can get ruined from the stairs, alone. And then I
can't really ask them to take the thing home again
and return it clean.
"In a gemach of sixty cribs, I really shouldn't have to be
cleaning more than half of them when they come back. An hour
ago, someone who lives close by brought back an unusually
dirty crib. This was after I had told his wife specifically
that I expected it to be clean. I plucked up all my courage
and told him to take the thing home and bring it back in
decent condition. I left him no option.
"The moment he had left, the phone rang and another fellow
asked to return a crib. In exasperation, I told him sharply
and in no uncertain terms that I was not prepared to take it
back till he had hosed it down in the bath and removed every
single mark, even from the legs and the wheels. I protested
that I had neither the time nor the energy to clean up cribs
for other people. The man muttered something and hung up. He
arrived less than five minutes later. The crib was sparkling
and he had bought a new matteress because the other one had
a small tear in it.
"I felt most uncomfortable to have let out my frusration on
the wrong person. That's why I'm phoning you now, to let it
out on you. I've asked the other owners of gemachs and the
problem seems to be universal. Some people are tough,
though. They examine each item with a magnifying glass and
won't take it back with a single mark on it. But why should
it be like this? Why can't people understand that they have
to return an article at least in the same condition as they
took it?" lamented my friend.
Check the time before phoning a gemach.
Was my friend exagerating? Did this really happen regularly?
We took a survey of other gemachim in town.
"A gemach is public property. We have to make sure that we
are not one of those who takes care of their own money but
squanders other people's. But unfortunately, this does
occur," declared R' Chaim who runs two gemachs, one for
tablecloths for simchas and the other for the use of
his fax machine to send messages anywhere in the world for
no charge besides the price of the call.
He added, "Let me remind you that the whole idea of a gemach
only exists among Yidden shomrei Torah umitzvos. Most
people do try to be considerate. No one should imagine that
it is an honor to run a gemach. On the contrary, it is often
sheer drudgery and an exercise in patience.
"In my house, we go to bed early. We never rest by day and
get up very early in the morning. So, although for some
people, 11 p.m. may be just the beginning of the evening,
for me it is late. But frequently people knock to ask for
tablecloths or phone if they can come over to use the fax
(if I forget to unplug the phone) even around midnight. If
it were pikuach neffesh, I would help them at 3 a.m.
as well, but if it is something which could wait till
morning, why not look at the time before ringing?"
If you take something, bring it back.
"People forget to return things they borrow," complained
Tzippy, who runs a gemach for baby needs. "They are
distraught when they come and ask for a pacifier, a bottle,
or any other necessity in the middle of the night or on
Shabbos or Yom Tov. I ask for a name and often have to phone
to remind them to return the item. They have either
forgotten they ever took the item, or don't see the urgency
in replacing it."
The same applies to medicines. "Just imagine that when you
come to borrow a rare and expensive drug, I have to tell you
that it is out of stock because someone else borrowed it a
week ago and has not returned it." One medicine gemach lady
has switched over to cash -- she takes money for the item
and replaces it herself. That way she avoids the aggravation
of waiting, and keeps her stock replenished.
A question of money.
Then there is the problem of wear and tear. Nothing lasts
forever and things do break. Many understand that if they
borrow an article in good working order and it breaks, they
must either pay for the repair or for a replacement. But
there are others who feel that the gemach must subsidize all
breakages.
Esther has a gemach for humidifiers. A man came and told her
that a child had accidentally dropped a chair on a
humidifier. He apologized profusely for the broken machine
but honestly thought that his apologies absolved him from
all responsibilities!
I told him, "Look here, the machine broke in your house. I
shall put the price of the repair on the blank check you
left as a deposit."
"But that's not right," he protested. "You are meant to be a
gemach."
Esther was dumbfounded. Do people really think that a public
service has no right to claim for repairs of negligence?
"But that isn't the end of the story," Esther continued. "I
repeated my explanation several times from different angles,
upon which he turned on me and said," "If you take money for
lending me things, then you are not a gemach. You are in
business." He reiterated the accusation several times. It
was so ridiculous that I was not sure whether to take
offense or not."
Everyone who runs a gemach knows fully well that even if the
original seed money for starting the gemach was donated, the
wear and tear costs quite a bit. Rarely do occasional
donations cover replacements.
"I had one case which really shocked me," remembers Ora who
also runs a crib gemach. "A man returned a torn mattress and
argued that the thing was so shoddy that we had no right to
lend it out in the first place, since it was bound to tear
if one used it for the allotted three months. When I
insisted that he pay for the wear and tear, he went up to
the table where I had the open file, took his agreement form
and check, and marched out of the house, slamming the door.
I stood there open mouthed at the audacity, unable to move
for a few moments. Since then, I am afraid we have to ask
would-be borrowers to leave us the full price of the crib,
instead of just a blank check. We bank it and give a check
for the same amount from the gemach when the item is
returned in good condition."
The idea of a refundable deposit for the full amount has
caught on in many gemachim. "We had no choice," laments
Malka. "We had to adopt the idea after a few unpleasant
experiences. We run a gemach for tools. One day, a venerable
looking Jew asked to borrow an expensive elecric drill. He
only needed it for a few days. After a fortnight, we tried
to phone him to remind him to return it. No reply. We went
to the address he had given us but there was no reply. Upon
inquiring by neighbors, we learned that the family had moved
very suddenly after inspectors began inquiries about some
shady business deals. They had left no forwarding address,
to be sure. We tried to deposit the check but it bounced.
Now, three and a half years later, we have still not traced
that drill. After a few similar incidents where expensive
tools were either returned with parts missing or in need of
repair, we reluctantly decided to ask every borrower for a
cash deposit.
"I admit that it is unpleasant and it also deters people
from borrowing. They may not have that sort of money or are
not prepared to lay out so much. But believe me," says
Malka, "we had no choice."
R' Chaim of the tablecloth and fax gemachs insists that
running a gemach is a marvelous opportunity for doing
chessed on a daily basis. "It is just a pity that the
minority should spoil it for the majority of wonderful,
appreciative people."
Ora summed it up: "Please help us to help you. Owners of
gemachs also rely on other gemachs or need occasional help
in some other form. Let us borrow things and help each other
for simchas. There is no doubt that these constant
acts of kindness among our people are registered with the
Kindest One of all and they will tip the scales in the favor
of all Klal Yisroel."
