Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before

Friday, September 10, 2004

Last night I lost my wallet.

I just spoke the other day about how I am constantly checking for my wallet, so I thought that was an awesome blogging coincidence.

I got home at around 7, took a shower, then prepared myself to go to the bar and watch the football game. How American of me. So Doug is patiently waiting for me to get my ass ready, then I tap that ass to check for my wallet and it is not there. That's not unusual. I changed pants. It's probably just in my other pants. I check those pants. Nothing but loose change.

Hmm, so where is it? I look around my room. I have still not unpacked. I've got lots of boxes and bags around and few pieces of furniture. I have a bed, a bookcase and a dresser. I check the top of the dresser. Nothing. I check the bed, beneath the covers and behind it. Nothing. I check the bookcase. Nothing.

A-ha! I moved my car and when I moved it, I must have taken it out and put it on the passenger seat. That's most likely where it is. So we walk out to the car, where some nice local boys decided my car was a good car to sit on. You know. It's a Civic. Nice and low to the ground. Easy sittin'. They jump off my car and apologize. I say, "No, it's cool. I love it when strangers sit on my property. When you're done here, why don't you go take a shower in my apartment and then jump on my bed?"

Anyway, I search through my car and it's not there. Now I am starting to get a little worried. Everyone has had that moment where you think you've lost something -- a wallet, keys, a child -- but it is usually found within a few minutes. When it gets past that few minutes, and you feel you looked everywhere, that panic starts to set in.

So I look in the same places I've already looked in ten times. I check my car again. Still not there (and the kids have moved on to another car).

Now I'm full on freaking out. I turn my room upside down again. Nothing. I now realize that when I was in the 34th street subway station at rush hour, it must have been lifted.

Damn. Those announcements were right. I should have kept my wallet in my front pocket. Now I'm pissed and I can't believe I wouldn't be able to feel it when someone steals my wallet. I also was thinking about it when I was on the subway because my pockets in the pants I was wearing are quite shallow.

Then I get really pissed because my wallet is a brand new wallet that was a gift from my brother-in-law for being in the wedding party. So not only did I lose all my shit, but I lost a very nice gift and I feel like an asshole. In a moment of pissed off-ed-ness, I yell out, "FUCK!"

Doug, who is in the living room, says, "You found it?" I replied, "Um. No. I just said 'fuck'".

So after looking and looking, I resign myself to the fact that it's gone. I call up my credit card company, and of course get a recording.

"Please enter or say your 16 digit account number."

"I don't know it."

"That is not a valid account number. Please enter or say your 16 digit account number."

"I don't know my sixteen digit account number."

"That is not a valid account number. Please enter or say your 16 digit account number."


"Please hold while we transfer you to the next available agent."

I've learned you just gotta be a dick to these recordings of people.

So I talk to a nice lady who answered and I explain that I think I have to cancel my credit card. I check recent activity and there is nothing on it, but maybe the fella who stole my wallet is just using the cash. I had recently visited an ATM, so my wallet was nice and plump.

I talk to her for a few minutes and I hear her clicking and typing away. I'm standing in my room. I'm still kind of looking around. Waiting for my wallet to jump out from somewhere. She asks me where I lost it. "On the train, I think." Did I call the cops? "No, not yet." OK, she says, just give me a couple of seconds here...

I am standing next to my dresser. Just kind of leaning on it. The top drawer has socks in it. Basically, the only clothes I've unpacked so far are my socks and some t-shirts. As I am waiting for the lady to tell me it is cancelled, I think, Let me just look in my sock drawer for no reason. Why would I even put my wallet in here? But what the hell. Might as well look. I've looked everywhere else.

I open up the sock drawer, and there on the top of my socks, sitting there like a beacon of hope, my wallet is looking at me, smiling, saying, "Here I am!"

I blurt out and interrupt the lady and say, "I just fucking found it."

So we had a hearty laugh. Myself, the lady and Doug. I asked her if this means she is going to put an asterisk next to my name that indicates I am a retard. She assures me that is not the case. I'm not so sure I trust her.

"I'm sorry sir. Although you do have excellent credit, it says here you are kind of a dipshit."

No clue why the hell I would put my wallet in a drawer, and then close it. Wha? Makes no sense.

I highly recommend losing your wallet and then finding it. I was so happy. I could have sworn this whole thing lasted about an hour, thinking we probably missed the first quarter of the game. I think it ended up being about 20 minutes.

So I have learned a couple of things. Even though it wasn't stolen, I should keep my wallet in my front pocket. Also, I really need to unpack.
All material © Mike Toole; 2003 - 2006