Maybe I'm lucky to be going so slowly because I may be going in the wrong direction
- Ashley Brilliant
Slowly stepping down the stairs from Workplace Development's beautiful second-floor, Findlay offices, (i.e, suite 200), I found Emily doing homework at the kitchen table.
"Mom took Matthew to piano lessons and she's getting him Arby's," Emily said. "I didn't want that, so she said you need to get me Subway."
Following instructions, I drove to the Shell station Subway, bought a turkey sub and dropped Emily off at the Van Buren soccer complex for practice. Post a half hour on the road to nowhere and shower, I reached into my shorts' pocket to confirm a reservation for tomorrow's trip to New York and found the wallet missing.
"I'll need to call you back," I said to the agent before hanging up the phone.
After searching the bathroom and not finding the wallet, I yanked open multiple drawers, surveyed suite 200 and padded down numerous pants' pockets, finding more nothing. After a second, more methodical search of those and other possible wallet locations -- including combing through the car -- also came up empty, I called the Subway: maybe it fell out there. No luck: the sandwich artist found nothing; a Shell station employee reported similar results.
After another frustrating, fruitless search -- shifting through the same spots a third time and somehow believing it might lead to a different result was a clear sign of insanity -- I squeezed my forehead, considering the cornucopia of plastic crammed into the wallet. Not just the driver's license and four different credit cards -- replacing those would be a hassle -- but the HSA, ATM and various debit cards, plus a plethora of frequent idiot cards, including Delta Platinum and Skyclub memberships. On the upside, I rarely, if ever, carried much cash; I'd lost about ten bucks.
"Have any of you seen my wallet?" I asked the family as it strolled through the front door a half hour later.
"Did you lose it somewhere?" Will asked.
"Yes, but I've searched the entire house and can't find it. All I can figure is it fell out of my pocket at Subway. This is really bad timing; I'm leaving for New York City tomorrow."
"Well, you can use your passport for airport security, can't you?"
"Yeah, that's true."
"Did you call the Subway to see if anyone found it?" Asked Will.
"Yeah, but they said no one turned anything in."
"Are you sure you looked through everything here?"
"Three times," I sulked.
"Well, maybe you should go to Subway and take a look around. Who knows, you might find it in the parking lot or something."
"I guess that can't hurt before I start canceling cards."
Coming up empty handed on the Subway recon mission, I slumped through our front door, disappointed with my own carelessness. At the end of the day, like with so many problems, no one could be blamed for this mess except me.
"Did you get my message?" Will asked.
"No, I forgot to take the phone. Why?"
"Because Emily found your wallet."
"She did? Are you kidding me? Where was it?"
"In your shorts hanging over the bathroom towel rack. Emily said you wore them when you dropped her off at soccer," Will said. "I thought you checked everywhere."
"Ah, well, I ...."
"Geez, dad," Emily interjected. "How can you travel all over the world, but lose your wallet driving to Subway?'
How indeed.
****
Tomorrow: this be your lucky day
Comments