I had never lost my wallet, but after last week’s brilliant display of carelessness, I’ve learned there’s a three-step process in which I absorb such a situation. Wallet is indeed missing? Check. Retrace your steps? Check. Curse yourself on a busy sidewalk and hope everyone assumes you’re chatting on Bluetooth? Check, unfortunately.
I may have thrown a few choice expletives in that rant for good measure, but that brief moment of public embarrassment pales in comparison to the trauma of losing your wallet. It's not the cash – it's losing your identity and having your most prized posessions out there on display, likely in some stranger's evil mitts.
I had just stepped off the bus on my way to work and my front-right pocket felt light. I keep my wallet in my front pocket because – beyond the fact that I hate sitting on the bulge – I’ve always felt that my wallet is not secure in my back pocket. I had seen the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie enough times to know that there areRead More »from It could happen to you: How a returned wallet helped restore my faith in humanity