Thank you for the prompt return of my wallet. Let me explain what happened so that you don't think that I'm a careless person who loses her wallet on a regular basis.
I'm the type of person who has to have keys in hand a full two blocks away from my house. If I am at the grocery store, my credit card is out after all my groceries have been loaded onto the conveyor belt. When I go to take the bus, I have the bus pass in hand prior to my arrival at the bus stop.
I'm the type of person who has several purses and bags. To the amusement of my fellow missionaries and the disappointment of my parents, I ammassed a small collection of Italian bags and purses. ("Uh, Sister Cicada, I was serving with you five months ago, and I swear you didn't have five purses back then...")
I'm the type of person who loves to have a putting-place for keys so that I can put them at the door and never have to look for them; I always know where my keys are.
Today, I went home after my classes and had a few minutes to change for work and get a lunch put together. After I had on a work-appropriate outfit (I'm not even going to talk about the girl who sits next to me who seems to think that "no jeans" means that sweat pants are okay), I headed out the door. On my way, I grabbed my wallet and phone and lipstick from my school bag and transferred them to my purse. I grabbed my keys from their hook and headed out the door.
Somewhere on my way to the bus stop, and I don't know where, I pulled out my wallet and removed the bus pass. I went to the bus stop, waited for the bus, and got on. I sat down in my seat and immediately realized that my purse was lighter than it should have been. I felt for the familiar objects and quickly discovered that my wallet was missing.
This caused me to question if I had actually brought the wallet with me in the first place. Did I absent-mindedly remove the bus pass from my wallet while still at home and toss the wallet back onto the couch? I called home and woke up The Boy to make him look on the couch for my wallet. It wasn't there. I pulled the cord to signal that I needed to get off the bus at, I swear, the longest stretch of road between bus stops that exists on this line. I got off of the bus approximately two miles from home and started walking home.
I called work to tell them I'd be late. I was informed that Gregory Hines was on his way home from work, and he'd be able to stop by the side of the road and give me a lift. He came, and brought me home.
I looked on the couch.
I looked in the bedroom.
I looked in the bathroom.
I looked in the kitchen.
I looked on the couch.
The Boy recently observed that when you find something you've lost, you always find it in the last place you look. Then he pointed out, "Of course you always find it in the last place you look! After you find it, you stop looking, so it's always in the last place you look!" My wallet wasn't in any of the last places I was looking.
I walked to the bus stop with my head one foot from the pavement. Try looking for a brown leather wallet in the fall. Not so easy to find among all the leaves. I walked around the bus stop. I walked back from the bus stop, still searching. I got home.
I looked on the couch.
I looked in the bathroom.
I looked in my bedroom.
I looked in the kitchen.
I looked on the couch.
I walked to the bus stop with my head six inches above the pavement. I walked around the bus stop. I walked home from the bus stop.
I called my bank to have them put a temporary hold on my cards: "I can call back, though, right? When it's found? I mean, I don't think that anyone actually stole it, but if they did, I really really don't want them to use the whole fifty dollars in my account." (Mom, Dad, Daltonboy, that is totally an exaggeration. I promise I have a little bit more than that. I'm just using my creative license which, fortunately, was not lost with my wallet.)
I called my bishop to let him know that my temple recommend was in my missing wallet, because apparently you're supposed to do that.
I called the police to register a lost or stolen wallet: "Officer, I really don't think that anyone stole it. I think it's just more likely that someone picked it up and is trying to return it to me."
I called I called the busline to ask if they'd found a lost wallet: "It only happened forty minutes ago. Couldn't you just have the bus driver look on his bus? I can tell you the line and the time I was on it." "No, ma'am, I'm sorry. You'll just have to call tomorrow to see if it's turned up."
I called my old roommate to tell her that I thought the address on my driver's license might be the same as the apartment where she was currently living, so could she please tell her roommates to accept my wallet if anyone comes by with it.
I called Bajio's to notify them that my card with two stamps on it had been stolen.
I called my employer but her line was busy so I left her a message saying that I didn't know when I'd come in to work because I had to wait for the police to call me back to file an official report, and we don't get cell reception at work.
I hung up the phone and immediately received a call from my place of employment:
Secretary: You lost your wallet, right?
Cicada: Yes. I was calling to say that I don't know when I'd be in, because I have to wait for the police to call me back.
Secretary: Actually, it's been turned in. Someone turned it in to our other office.
Huh.
So during the hour that I was making the necessary phone calls, this is what I imagine you did:
At some point between 11:47 and 12:00, you found my wallet. You found it quite south of campus. I don't know if you were on foot or on bike or on car. You had to go somewhere that had internet to find my information on the school's system. You had to find out what the heck HCEB meant, because who actually knows that? You had to go to the HCEB (far north end of campus) either on foot or on bike or on car. I'm not surprised that all of this took you about an hour, and I'm very glad that you took care of the wallet thing right away, instead of procrastinating doing what was right. If you had sent me an email telling me that you found it, I would have somehow found your address (probably used DP's creepy stalker skills) and sent you a gift certificate to Chuck-A-Rama.
To Th. and any others who are interested:
The contents of my wallet
- Student ID
- Visa check card
- ATM card
- Driver's license
- Bajio's buy-10-meals-get-one-free card
- Temple recommend
- Seveth Street Salon buy-8-haircuts-get-one-free card
- Expired coupon for Blockbuster
- Ticket stub from Sky High
- ATM receipt pre-tuition (had the wallet-finder seen it, it could have tempted him/her to try using the Visa check card)
- Coupon for 15% off my next hair cut at Seventh Street Salon
- Nine pennies
17 comments:
Man, I love my homemade bullets. Okay, okay. The alignment is a little off, so sue me. Sue me for the whole fifty dollars I have in my freaking bank account.
I have been known to take my car keys out of my pocket as I walked out the classroom door in the JKHB, only to hold them, ready for any emergency door-unlockings, through the parking lot, across the street, down the stairs in the Great and Spacious Tanner building, and across the parking lot to my car.
Did you call Bajio's back to let them know you found the card? I'm sure they were concerned.
jeygus (not blaspheming, just the word verification)
Sakmet,
It got good reviews! It got good reviews! And Brother 2 took me. And you know what? I liked it.
I am like Master Fob and have this weird habit of getting my keys out of my backpack while I'm leaving class, so I end up holding them in my had all the way across campus until I reach my car. I can also relate the different bags thing--earlier this year it got me in trouble because I had forgotten to transfer my wallet to my school bag and I managed to get pulled over. Not only did I get a ticket for speeding, I also got one for not having my wallet. Blah.
qngude.
Sounds like you keep your wallet a tidy place.
I force myself to put my keys back in my pocket with some frequency. Then I can't find the right key again because I have a half dozen disconnected key rings in my pocket.
I, too, am an early key taker outer. I think it stems from being sure I was going to be attacked by some giant, scary man on the way to my car. And that somehow I would be able to defend myself with just my keys.
I must agree with Sakhmet here. You probably could have simply said, "Movie ticket stub," and everyone would have been happy. Now certain people--not me, because I don't care if you want to see dumb movies, but people like Sakhmet--are going to judge you.
Also, did Melissa cut your hair? Because if she did, that would explain how cute it is. I had to stop going there for two reasons: 1) I didn't like to drive for an hour every time I wanted my hair cut.
2) Melissa had her baby, and the other girl, I can't remember her name, would NOT listen to what I wanted, and was way too timid with my hair. It's a shame, really. I enjoyed 7th Street very much. And I may have a half-used coupon you can have.
I constantly fight with myself about getting my keys out too early. What is it about us that makes us do that? It doesn't bode well for the senior years, when we will have to be five hours early at the airport, or forty minutes early to Enrichment Night. I try to fight the key thing just to stave off the impending doom of being a really annoying old person.
I am an early key girl myself and can relate - with my OCD problem, I would have been wandering around in circles till someone returned the wallet - it's good to know that there are nice people out and about, returning wallets.
A side note - did you go to firenze on your mission? If so, that is totally rad - I love Italy. I went to Paris on my mission but if I could have chosen another location, Italy would have been it!
Redlaw,
Firenze was my first city. One of these days, I should post some precious mission pictures...
I thought for sure I'd go to Geneva, Switzerland on my mission. I had it all figured out. I thought that since I was fluent in French but had lived in France, they'd just bump me to a near-by country. I just didn't know I'd be bumped to a near-by country that doesn't speak French. I loved it!
About 7th Street Salon:
I went there before my mission and my hairdressers name was Heather, and she was absolutely fantastic. When I got back from my mission, she was no longer there, and it was under new ownership. I wasn't that impressed with my first hair cut I had from them. My second hair cut was done by a girl who had had surgery and was on some serious drugs, which is something you never want to admit to the person whose hair you're cutting. The third cut I had there I really, really liked. This last time I went, my hairdresser was Emilie (Emily?) and she was great. It was just her second or third day of work there. She just got home from a mission four months ago. Anyway. She's super good, if you're interested at all.
One of my MTC comps went to Geneva...she loved it. For this coming Thanksgiving, I am going to Paris but I really wanted to go to Firenze...sadly, the girls I am going with insisted on Paris since I speak the language and all...my heart weeps just a bit...But I love Paris so I am sure the tears will dry.
You lived in France too? I am now doubly jealous of you. How long did you live there?
I never would have stolen your wallet if I knew that you only had fifty dollars in your freaking bank account.
This reminds me of this summer when I realized I lost my passport 1:30 in the AM the day I was to fly to Costa Rica. My first Spanish-speaking visit ruined. Luckily I got (gulp) half the money for the ticket back. Maybe if I had realized immediately when I had lost it and retraced my steps in Gollum position I would not be lamenting now. Thanks for the advice for next time!
Glad you got it back.
Heather! She was the one who wouldn't listen to me and was too timid with my hair. Lovely person, and fun to talk to, but I always left feeling that she wasn't quite finished, and didn't have the heart to tell her. Anyway, my best stylist EVER just moved back from Hawaii, and she lives a mile from me. Plus she only charges me like $10. I'm in heaven!
So how exactly does one make one's own bullets?
Did you really call Bajios?
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