Miracle on 125th Street

On the 3rd day of my unemployment I began my freelance gig with the company that does events for Nokia. That day my main responsibility was to run errands and pick up necessary items for the event. My to do list took me to Staples (several times), Home Depot, Starbucks, American Apparel, and Kinkos. I really wanted to impress everyone, so I kept track of the money I spent, kept the receipts in one place-my wallet-and tried to be quick and efficient with my tasks. Things were going well until I was attempting to pay for some papers I had laminated. I searched my bag, and my wallet was nowhere to be found. I didn't take a bag with lots pockets, and although it was deep, there wasn't any place for my little black wallet to hide. Fortunately, I didn't have a lot of money in there, but it did contain my debit card, driver's license, and receipts.

I was pretty sure my pocket didn't get picked, and I figured that I must have either left it in a cab or dropped it somewhere in Columbus Circle (59th Street and Central Park West AVE). Fortunately I didn't keep any of the money my clients gave me to spend in there, but all the receipts tucked safely in that wallet were gone. I was embarrassed about that; I really wanted to impress them. I guess I must have anyway, because they have asked me to come back--not permanently, yet.

I quickly cancelled my debit card and ordered a new license. I was pretty certain I would never see it again...after all, I do live in New York City. If you think of the stereotypes of the city there would be no way I would ever see that wallet again. And I liked it too. It was small and convenient. (I hate having to schlep large wallets.) The worst part of the whole thing was that since it happened shortly after I lost my job, I felt that it just kicked me while I was down.

But as I have noticed this summer, I haven't stayed down for long. I mentioned that I have done quite a bit of freelance work. Last week I was incredibly busy running around delivering packages, and getting stuff for Nokia events. Even Saturday was busy. I had to do laundry, exercise, attend a bridal shower, pick up movie tickets at the Magic Johnson, give them to a friend (long story), pick up a package from the post office, go to the Travis concert, and write a talk for church. The last thing I wanted to do was go to the post office. I hate going there. Especially the one closest to my house, the clerks are slow, and all the bullet-proof glass creeps me out. I was kind of mad at the person who had the audacity to send me a certified letter. I figured it was probably the COBRA people sending me official you have no insurance papers.

While in line I noticed that the package notice was dated June 23rd, and I only had two more days to pick up my mail before it was sent back. The mail situation is seriously the most frustrating part of my residence. The lady downstairs gets all the mail and puts it by the front door at her convenience. We can go a couple of days before the mail arrives, plus magazines don't always arrive either. So I was doubly annoyed knowing that I could have stood in line a couple of weeks ago when I was less busy. I was in the post office for probably 30-40 minutes before I finally got my mail--a package from some stranger in Commack, NY. I wasn't quite sure if I should open the package. With emails, we aren't supposed to open attachments from strangers, but can we open packages? So I contemplated the dilemma while I ran yet another errand. On the way back home, I passed the police precinct, and decided to ask a cop that was standing outside. He said I had two options: open the package or throw it away. He offered to open it for me.

He opened it up and handed me the note inside that read: "I found this at 125th and Lennox..." and all of a sudden I knew what was in the package: my wallet with the cash, receipts, drivers license and debit card. How it got all the way to Harlem with everything still there is a huge mystery and miracle. I have to admit, I got a little emotional. I couldn't believe it was all there. So even in New York City there are good people who mail lost articles to their owners.

Maybe it is a good omen; now that I have found my wallet, I will get a new job soon, too. I do have an interview tomorrow....