My wallet freakout
So, last night I had a bit of a scare with a happy ending. When I was getting ready to leave for work at IB, I loaded up my pockets with then normal excess amount of baggage that I lug around with me: my giant-ass keychain, my iPhone, my iPod, and, wait..., where the hell is my wallet? I thought hard. I hadn't left the house but once all day since I can work at home on Thursdays, and that was to walk Trooper to the park down the street and play fetch with him until he literally fell over (his favoritest thing on Earth). Panicked, Ben and I tore the living room apart, then I hopped on my bike and retraced my steps to the park and back. No luck.
Now late for call, I luckily had my temporary driver's license acquired by sitting in line for two hours on Monday (MA doesn't just print you a new driver's license when it expires -- they give you this giant postercard of a license to lug around until they mail you a new one) and $20 from Ben. As I was running cues with the Bastards for their extraordinarily awesome sketch show, I was convinced that my wallet was as good as gone. I called the Cambridge Police, who have been in the news of late, and was routed twice to a phone that just kept ringing and ringing. Finally, I got a hold of someone who said, and I quote, "yeah, call back tomorrow since we only deal with that kind of stuff from 8-12 on Fridays." Gotta love government service!
Thinking the worst, I began calling the various credit card companies/Bank of America trying to make sure that my cards weren't out there without me being used. Now, I can't convey how bloody difficult it is to call them. You swing wildly through phone trees that keep asking you inappropriate questions, like what's your account number (on the missing cards when you call the missing card lines) before being routed to the wrong group. Bank of America, for instance, routed me to their credit card department, then their check dispute department, then their branches in California, then finally a person that could help Massachusetts accounts (>20 minutes). Discover tried to sell me additional services before they would block my card. I think I touch typed or spoke my SSN, birthday, and mother's maiden name often enough for anyone around me to assume my identity with ease.
Just as I finished blocking all my cards, I logged into my work e-mail to see if I could get someone to let me in the office in the morning sans my proxy cards. And, there it was, an e-mail from heaven saying "Hey, found your wallet. Stuff in tact. Call me." And I almost squealed in disbelief.
Apparently, this woman was walking about my 'hood and found my wallet lying in the street somehow. My only assumption is that it somehow fell out as I was walking Trooper, who was being a handful with his usual over-excitement for "THE BALL!" As soon as I finished up my shift at IB, I was in my car driving through last night's heavy downpours to Davis Sq.
The woman wasn't in the mood really to talk with me at close to midnight, though she had assured me that she'd be up and around when I asked her for a good time to come. I accepted from her my wallet and gave her, along with my extreme gratitude, the $20 that Ben had given me to get by. Armed with my overloaded George Constanza-like wallet, I was on my way home with a series of dead cards, my almost expired license, the myriad of other junk in my wallet, and a sense that humanity is kinda awesome sometimes.
Now late for call, I luckily had my temporary driver's license acquired by sitting in line for two hours on Monday (MA doesn't just print you a new driver's license when it expires -- they give you this giant postercard of a license to lug around until they mail you a new one) and $20 from Ben. As I was running cues with the Bastards for their extraordinarily awesome sketch show, I was convinced that my wallet was as good as gone. I called the Cambridge Police, who have been in the news of late, and was routed twice to a phone that just kept ringing and ringing. Finally, I got a hold of someone who said, and I quote, "yeah, call back tomorrow since we only deal with that kind of stuff from 8-12 on Fridays." Gotta love government service!
Thinking the worst, I began calling the various credit card companies/Bank of America trying to make sure that my cards weren't out there without me being used. Now, I can't convey how bloody difficult it is to call them. You swing wildly through phone trees that keep asking you inappropriate questions, like what's your account number (on the missing cards when you call the missing card lines) before being routed to the wrong group. Bank of America, for instance, routed me to their credit card department, then their check dispute department, then their branches in California, then finally a person that could help Massachusetts accounts (>20 minutes). Discover tried to sell me additional services before they would block my card. I think I touch typed or spoke my SSN, birthday, and mother's maiden name often enough for anyone around me to assume my identity with ease.
Just as I finished blocking all my cards, I logged into my work e-mail to see if I could get someone to let me in the office in the morning sans my proxy cards. And, there it was, an e-mail from heaven saying "Hey, found your wallet. Stuff in tact. Call me." And I almost squealed in disbelief.
Apparently, this woman was walking about my 'hood and found my wallet lying in the street somehow. My only assumption is that it somehow fell out as I was walking Trooper, who was being a handful with his usual over-excitement for "THE BALL!" As soon as I finished up my shift at IB, I was in my car driving through last night's heavy downpours to Davis Sq.
The woman wasn't in the mood really to talk with me at close to midnight, though she had assured me that she'd be up and around when I asked her for a good time to come. I accepted from her my wallet and gave her, along with my extreme gratitude, the $20 that Ben had given me to get by. Armed with my overloaded George Constanza-like wallet, I was on my way home with a series of dead cards, my almost expired license, the myriad of other junk in my wallet, and a sense that humanity is kinda awesome sometimes.