The first call, to a rep named Shachar, ended with Luber hanging up. "I tell him in a choked voice that it belonged to my son who was killed in the war, and he says in a businesslike tone: I suggest you do a temporary disconnection," Luber recounted. "I'm stunned, and I say, 'But my son was killed permanently,' and he says: Yes, but it's free for three months and then a ridiculous sum. I couldn't take it anymore and I hung up."
The second call was entirely different. This time, a rep named Fatima answered. "I stammer: My son was killed in the war, and she says in a warm voice: I'm sorry, I share in your sorrow. And she cancels the line without adding a word," he wrote.
Fatima didn't stop there. She asked when it had happened, and when she heard it had been nearly three years, she understood the family had been paying for the line all that time. "She speaks with her manager, and comes back and says: Don't worry, it will only take a minute," Luber wrote of her sensitivity.
The post ended with simple but profound words: "I thank her and ask her name again and thank her again for the service and say I'm sorry. And she says: May you have joy. And we disconnect. And we are disconnected. And the line is dead."