Lost and Found

Sometimes, during my lunch break, I like to take a nap on the lawn in front of the church where I work, under the shelter of a truly amazing pine tree. I generally set the alarm on my cell phone and put the phone on my chest to make sure I'll wake up in time to return to work.

Yesterday, I went through this routine. When I awoke and went to check the time, my phone was nowhere to be found. I checked my pockets, looked under the jacket I was using as a pillow, and examined the ground all around me. It was gone.

I was astonished. Had someone taken my phone from me while I slept? No. There was no way.

My co-worker, Leah, returned from the grocery store across the street, and I had her call my phone. She reported that someone had answered and hung up. When we tried again, my phone was off.

Someone had taken my phone from my while I slept. Had plucked it right off my chest. This was beyond belief.

Looking around, we spotted a homeless guy who had been napping on the church lawn earlier. He was now in the process of lying down on the bench across the street. I went over to him and asked if he'd happened to have seen a cell phone lying in the grass. "No, no sir," he replied, shaking his head vigorously. I thanked him and started to walk away.

"You don't think I'd steal from you, do you?" he asked, standing up and following me. I told him I didn't know what had happened--maybe it rolled down the hill or something, but I just couldn't find it. I then introduced myself to him and asked him his name, which he said was Michael, and we shook hands. We chatted for a little bit about my work, his stint in rehab, and our mutual love of taking naps on the front lawn of the church.

"Well," I said finally, "I guess if you happen to see a cell phone lying in the grass.... but I don't think it's here anymore." "Goodbye," he said abruptly, and walked away. Confused, I returned to my office and had my cell phone canceled.

By the way, if your cell phone is lost or stolen, you can put it on a "lost or stolen" list that means nobody can activate it. Cool, huh? Personally, I was more interested in a remote data erase, or perhaps a physical self-destruct mechanism.

Twenty minutes later, Michael dropped by the office and asked if we knew of any shelters he could go to. He was shaking, and was pretty clearly suffering some sort of withdrawal--contextually, I'm guessing alcohol. While I was trying to find one online, he tossed my phone onto my desk. "Hey, you found it!" I said, wanting to give him the opportunity to pass on confessing theft (was this a good move, or was I just insulting his intelligence?). He initially said he found it lying ten feet away from me, but later admitted he'd taken it from me. He apologized repeatedly, and said I looked like a nice person. I assured him that I forgave him and thanked him for bringing it back. "You seem like a nice person, too," I told him. "I really enjoyed talking to you earlier."

He then asked if I had any money, saying he was really hungry. We gave him some snacks from the office, and I caved and gave him the $5 bill that had been making me feel wealthy, pointing him to the delicious pizza at the Whole Foods across the street. He left before we could find him any sort of shelter.

Since he left the snacks at the bottom of the stairs for us to find later, my guess is he didn't spend the money on food. But I'm not convinced a forced detox on the street with nobody there for support would be particularly nonviolent, so I'm okay with it. Besides, if this had gone down differently, he might have ransomed my phone back to me for $20 or something (or tried to, since I didn't have $20).

So I got my phone back, and he got a beer. I call it win-win.

Of one thing I'm fairly certain: If I hadn't shaken his hand and asked him his name, I never would have seen my phone again.