At about 11:00am this morning, the cleaning lady for our building found a Blackberry in one of the toilets & turned it in to our lost & found (me). Standard practice when we find someone's phone is to look through the contacts for a "mom" or "dad" and call them to tell them where their kid can pick up their expensive electronic crap they probably didn't pay for and haphazardly left in the pooper.

So I dialed the number for "mom" and was greeted with a stirring rendition of "Our God is an Awesome God" as the ringback tone. Mom didn't pick up, but I got a lengthy voicemail greeting asking me to leave my name & number and extolling that "God loves [me]" and I should "Have a blessed day!"

After jamming nails in my wrists in what I can only assume was a fit of religious fervor brought on by her kind voice-mail extolences, I left a message saying that her daughter could pick her phone up from my office anytime until 6pm tonight, except from 1-2pm because that's when I take my lunch break.

I take lunch in my office sometimes. I'll shut the door with my spinach dip or leftover coldcuts party tray from some reception we've had earlier this week, or whatever the hell else I can scrounge up from the faculty lounge, and I'll watch episodes of The Daily Show or 30 Rock on Hulu.

When I do this, I stick a sign on the outside of the door that says "At Lunch. Please return in one hour" and lock it. Inevitably, there will be someone who chooses to ignore the sign and will knock on the door anyway. Then I either have to interrupt my lunch break to take care of whatever inane bullshit request they have that they're probably in the wrong place for anyway OR I can keep doing whatever I've been doing and act like I don't hear them knocking. Usually I opt to get up and do whatever needs doing so I can get rid of them and gnaw on my Keebler Clubhouse crackers in peace.

So of course, today, like clockwork, at 1:30, right in the middle of the ONLY hour I said not to come by, I get a knock on the door. Miss phone either can't read or just doesn't care. She needs her Blackberry Goddammit!!! I'm not without sympathy for someone who wants to get their phone back, so I grab the phone, answer the door, and hand it over to her. No big deal. There are the usual profuse thanks that come with returning someone's misplaced gadgets and I tell her not to worry about it. I say goodbye and shut the door.

But before I can continue watching Jon Stewart's story about his feigned rivalry with Mario Lopez, I overhear phone girl talking to someone on her phone right outside my door. She's obviously reporting to her mom that she got the phone back because I hear her say, "...I don't know why you told me not to go from 1-2, she was in there.... I just wish someone would have kept their grubby little hands off it for 10 minutes. I mean, I'm glad they turned it in and all, but I don't think that's what they were planning to do. That's not what they had in mind." Because most thieves know that prowling the shitters in Peck Hall on the off chance someone will leave their phone behind is the most lucrative form of thievery.

Dumb bitch. You're the one who left your expensive ass phone in the toilet! Someone was nice enough to turn it in for you and you got it back less than 2 hours after you lost it. But all you can do is verbally and figuratively shit all over everyone who helped you get your crap back.
I should have called that "<3Justin" that was in your phonebook and delivered your STD test results from the planned parenthood lab.

1 comments:

  1. Kate said,

    I hate ungrateful people like that!

    on October 30, 2008 at 7:11 PM