We settle into the leather backed chairs, sighing with the unique contentment that comes only from transitioning from the damp, dank, rainy night into the warmer quarters of the establishment we’re eating tonight. The hostess, a nice enough lady who’s looking atypically ragged this evening, apologetically explains that we’ll be slightly rushed due to our lack of reservations.
I understand- it was kind enough of her to seat us at all, and she had to perform some table juggling to make it happen too. If I could, I’d tip her in addition to thoe wait staff.

A few minutes of desultory conversation later, we’re devouring our set of steaks. For a bochur- or anyone else for that matter-
there’s nothing like a juicy rib to put an end to the gnawing hunger pangs.
OK, I exaggerate, a little. The point, though, is that a steak provides a gevisseh geshmak that other gastronomic entities fail to shtell.

Halfway through my rib, an excellent cut, served medium well as per the chef’s recommendation, I glance up to see my buddyd staring at me. His numb face looks like a frame out of a seventies horror movie.  I can’t help but peer intently at him as a giant globule of shitaake mushroom sauce slowly starts its descent down towards his plate from the left corner of his mouth. Slowly, slowly…splat! He doesn’t even notice it. “What’s wrong”, I ask. “Huh? Oh. It’s just that I was making a cheshbon of my monetary matzav…and I chapped I didn’t have enough for this seudah. In fact, it seems I’m in the red…a lot.” Well, well. “So either you’re doing dishes tonight-(something bochurim are NOT good at)- or I’ll front you the money…what’s the problem”? I’m a little unclear as to the precise nature of his sudden dilemma.  “No. You don’t understand. I owe like a thousand dollars”. Huh? Well, he’s got that right. I don’t understand. Explain to me why you’d go out to eat at an expensive restaraunt when you the debtors are banging down your door. What’s the pshat?

The problem here is not limited to this particular bochur, unfortunately. I know tons of bochurim, whom, lacking the requisite funds, will impose on other chevra for loans, or worse, impose on American Express- all just to go out to eat, or on a trip. With sof zman coming up, this situation will only prove to exacerbate itself. And the problem doesn’t magically go away come next zman. Slowly, the dollars tend to mount up, until the matzav becomes such that the bochur is completely out of his depth.

The olam needs to learn how to not go out, how to stay local, and how to go on cheap trips. This problem isn’t going away. Too many guys end up forced into having to play credit card shtick- for no good reason. The olam feels meshubad to live a standard of life that is above and beyond their means…this was never the way we lived, thoroughout the doros. Rabosai- it’s time to wake up, wake up to the matzav our parents and the rest of the world is in. Pay heed to this call, or you’ll be taking the call of an annoyed debt collector in just a few months.

Oh, and the unpleasant interruption notwithstanding, we made it out of there in a record forty-five minutes. Fastest meal I ever had in a decent place. The hostess was most appreciative, but putting basic mentschlichkeit aside, I consider this an investment, next time I go back-with a different guy, of course- she’ll hopefully remember me and my quick meal.