The Tale of the Thief and the Moron
Yesterday afternoon I found that my phone and $60 cash had been taken out of my bag at work. At the end of homeroom, when I went to my desk, I saw that my wallet was open in my bag and though I searched frantically for my cellphone, I came up empty-handed. And furious.
The feeling of having someone go through your things is pretty creepy. People have since been like, "It was just a phone," but they don't get it. They say things like, "Well, was there really anything THAT embarrassing on there?" but they don't get it. It's not about the fact that the phone can be replaced (we'll get to that) or that I don't have any embarrassing texts on there (more on that later), but that it's a personal thing that someone took from me and could have gone through. Unless it happens to you - and I sincerely hope nothing is stolen from anybody - you can't really understand the feeling of violation that just ripples right through you.
Anyway, I first did what anyone who gets their phone stolen does: I called the phone. I figured nobody would pick up, because obviously only an idiot would pick up the phone he or she had stolen, but no, someone picked up. And by "someone" I mean some stupid child asshole. He kept saying hello hello hello hello hello hello in an awful, annoying voice to me, as I asked him just to bring the phone back. I told him that I didn't care about the money; I just wanted my phone back. It was like I wanted the information back, to kind of just erase what had happened. He continued to just say hello over and over again, sort of like a taunt. This really made me mad because I kept thinking that people are complete assholes. Think about it: you've stolen someone's phone, the person calls you, clearly upset and just asks for the phone back, and you just taunt the person. That's nice. That's real fucking nice. (When I think "logically" about it, of course, I think, "If you're gonna steal a phone and cash, are you really that considerate that you care about anybody's feelings and you actually respond to them when they ask for the phone back?" Umm, of course not.)
After listening to that crap, I realized I wasn't getting my phone back any way voluntarily, so I went to the administrators. There's this woman who runs all the discipline at the school, and she is a freaking master. Nobody messes with her. She gets kids to confess to anything. She was who I needed. Thankfully, she was there and she helped. I can't go into many details, except that she spent the afternoon calling about fifty kids and being so intimidating through the phone that most of them listened when they were told not to get on the phone or go outside until she drove down to the projects herself and talked to them. "If you don't tell me where that phone is," she would tell them, "then when I drive down there in 20 minutes, expect me at your door. And I won't be alone. I'll have the police and their dogs and their handcuffs with me." If only you could hear her voice. A few teachers listening were like, "Umm, those kids are shitting themselves right now," and you know what? I wouldn't doubt it.
Two hours of phone calls, and we thought we had the story straight:
Apparently, while a few of the kids (none I teach, thank god) were doing the job of cleaning some of the classrooms, they decided it wasn't enough to empty some paper bins so they also emptied my wallet and bag. Then - this is what we thought at first - the kid who stole my phone and cash put it in his locker but got freakd out by the whole thing and didn't want to take it out of the school, so a few others helped him out. I guess once you steal something, your ideals of fairness, justice, and equality come back to you because they divided everything pretty "equally": one kid got $20, another got $20, another got $20, and a girl took my cell phone to try to sell for $20. (The phone retails for about $300, so whoever she was selling it to would have gotten an insane deal, but I digress.) My point is, nobody took "everything" because that just wouldn't be "fair" to anybody. I assume, by the way, that I, the owner of the aforementioned items, am not part of "anybody" in the minds of these twits.
This turned out to be semi-accurate: though they did split the cash, the original thief kept my phone. Once we knew where the phone was, another call was made. This one was short: "We're coming for the phone. You get that phone, you give that phone to your grandmother. I don't care who you have to go get that phone back from. You get that phone, your grandmother and you better meet us outside when we arrive in 20 minutes or you'll be telling the police your story from the inside of a jail cell in an hour."
Twenty minutes later, I had my cell phone back.
As the thief handed it over to me, he wouldn't really look at me. I looked down at my phone that I had had for three months, which was in perfect condition when he stole it. It was now bent sideways so that it didn't quite slide closed. The screen was so badly damaged you couldn't read anything when you turned it on. I was seething and I could feel myself glaring openly at him as the administrator tried to calm down the grandmother, who, kind as she was, kept going on and on about how she was just wishing he'd told her the truth. This struck me as troubling because it's not as if her grandson was late coming home or skipped school and lied about it; the actual transgression - THEFT, something that I could have him arrested for - is pretty bad itself. I decided to let that one slide.
I didn't say much about the phone being completely damaged because I figured I could talk more about that when we met with him at school, rather than berate him in front of his grandmother who was crying because she didn't know what to do about him. I didn't say much when he mumbled an apology, barely audible and completely insincere, to me. I didn't ask him if he'd made any phone calls or sent any text messages; and I didn't ask him what he did with the cash. I didn't say anything to him at that time, because I didn't want to make a huge scene in the middle of the neighborhood.
And then, when I guess he had grown tired of the conversation between the administrator and his grandmother, he said, "Gramma, I'm late for my basketball game."
Yup. "Gramma, I'm late for my basketball game."
Hello, roof. Goodbye, roof.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" I suddenly piped up. "You're late for your basketball game! You have a teacher and an administrator drive down to your house at 4:30 PM after school to track down a phone you have STOLEN from me, and you're late for a basketball game. I'm out $60, several hours, and now I'm off to go spend more time at the cell phone store getting this repaired, but you're late for your basketball game! I could have come down here with the police but you're late for your basketball game! Excuse me, but I don't care about your basketball game."
I have never been in such control of the English language, because the truth is, every other word in that was carefully measured. "You fucking little shit bastard," almost came out about ten times, as well as, "You can go fuck yourself and your basketball game," "I hope you miss your whole fucking basketball season," and "You are a fucking selfish rotten asshole." Luckily, none of those phrases came out.
Instead, we left and he presumably went to his basketball game, albeit late.
I went on to my cell phone store to get my phone taken care of. When I walked in, I was the only customer in the store so I walked straight back to the service desk. Nobody stopped me, but when I got back there, I was told to go back and see Ron to check in. I said okay, and I went back to see Ron, who told me he'd put me on the list and there might be a wait.
I looked around again and saw literally NOBODY.
"So, how long a wait then?" I asked, sort of gesturing to the empty store.
"Probably about five to ten minutes," he said.
"How many ahead of me?" I asked. Probably a little on the sarcastic edge. Can you blame me though?
"Nobody," he said.
"Oh. Soo... why the wait?"
"Five minutes isn't that long."
"Look," I said. I wasn't putting up with anybody else's shit. Maybe I can't tell a student to go to hell, but this Ron character was another story. "I'm sorry, I'm not understanding this system. I need technical support for my phone, there's nobody in the store, and you've got about ten people working. I know everyone who comes in here without a working cellphone feels like their lifeline's gone and it'sa big deal, but I have just had an awful day and so I'd like to get everything taken care of as quickly as possible."
"You've got about four minutes left to wait."
I looked at him quizzically. I think my eyebrow was probably at the back of my head.
"We like to have clients wait about five minutes so they de-stress before they approach the desk."
Good strategy, Verizon: make people wait so that they calm down. Research shows waiting when you're anxious and in need of service makes people calmer.
About three minutes and thirty seconds later, Luis called me over. I told him what happened, abbreviated. He told me he could help me. He gave me a new phone ("This thing's more dead than my gramma," he said. Classy, sir.) and he transferred my numbers ("You got some fun nicknames in there, girly"). He then told me I would have to re-activate my phone, since I had it inactivated when it had been stolen.
"Can you do that?" I asked him.
"No, you have to go to customer service." He pointed across the way at an empty computer.
I looked at him quizzically, but I bet my eyebrow didn't move. By now, it was probably permanently lodged in the back of my head.
"Someone will be there momentarily to take care of that for you."
"Umm, okay." I walked over - literally like ten feet. When I got there, who was waiting for me? Luis.
And I swear, this is what he said to me: "Hi ma'am, how can I help you today?" only he wasn't kidding; it was as though he was reading a script. (It reminded me of the Verizon lady who had helped me suspend my service a few hours earlier; she was too chirpy at the end of the conversation and said things like a robot: "Thank you for calling Verizon today ma'am, the largest network... I hope you continue to have a wonderful day." Hey, lady? You just heard why I was canceling my phone. Not so wonderful. If you're gonna have employees read from a script, maybe you should have a few alternatives to the "I just ordered a few more ringtones/paid my bill" speech. How about a "I just got my phone stolen by a 13 year old" one?)
Anyway, it took a lot for me not to laugh at Luis. If I hadn't been grumpy about my phone and tired by the entire ordeal, I probably would have found the situation more humorous, but I was kind of still upset and just wanted to get everything done. So I played along and told Luis I wanted to re-install my service.
"Why did you cancel it, ma'am?"
"Luis, I told you. I cancelled it because it was stolen."
"Can you give me the exact details?"
"Luis, I did already. Twice."
"Right, but that was over at tech support. This is customer service."
"What, is the program not available on this computer to cut and paste the details?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, ma'am."
"The phone was stolen at work between 12 and 1:20 PM. I called Verizon at 2 PM. I'd like any charges that were accrued during the 12 and 2 PM time to be voided, if possible."
"I think that's possible."
"Luis, over at tech support twenty minutes ago, you told me it was possible."
"It is, ma'am. At customer service, we always say 'I think,' though."
That's ironic.
"Ma'am, would you like your service re-instated on your old phone or are you buying a replacement?"
"Luis! You just gave me the replacement!"
"So you'd like your service re-instated immediately?"
"Please."
"On your new phone?"
"Yes, that's the only one I have that works."
"Okay, we'll get that set up for you right this second." He clicked away on his computer.
"Are we all set?"
"You'll have to go back over to tech support to get everything squared away," he said.
"Okay."
I walked ten feet back to my original spot and Luis came with me. Once he had seated himself at the tech support computer, he asked me, "So, did tech support re-instate your service?"
If the "I'm late for my basketball game" comment hadn't come from a thief, and the thief being the thief who stole my phone and money, this comment would have ranked up there with most infuriating comment of the decade, but sadly, that title went to the stupid bastard who got me into this mess in the first place.
Anyway, I got my phone back from the thief and I got a new phone from the moron, but not all is well that ends well. It's not okay that someone stole money and property from me. And it's not okay that my favorite text messages have gone the way of the dodo. It's not okay that I spent an hour dealing with Luis at two different desks. It's not okay that I'm out $110 total - the cash that hasn't been returned to me and the $50 it cost to replace my phone. I swear, if someone tells me to look at this in the best light possible, I'm going to ignite them. You want something positive from this?
It was a banner day for assholes and morons.
Spring has sprung.
The feeling of having someone go through your things is pretty creepy. People have since been like, "It was just a phone," but they don't get it. They say things like, "Well, was there really anything THAT embarrassing on there?" but they don't get it. It's not about the fact that the phone can be replaced (we'll get to that) or that I don't have any embarrassing texts on there (more on that later), but that it's a personal thing that someone took from me and could have gone through. Unless it happens to you - and I sincerely hope nothing is stolen from anybody - you can't really understand the feeling of violation that just ripples right through you.
Anyway, I first did what anyone who gets their phone stolen does: I called the phone. I figured nobody would pick up, because obviously only an idiot would pick up the phone he or she had stolen, but no, someone picked up. And by "someone" I mean some stupid child asshole. He kept saying hello hello hello hello hello hello in an awful, annoying voice to me, as I asked him just to bring the phone back. I told him that I didn't care about the money; I just wanted my phone back. It was like I wanted the information back, to kind of just erase what had happened. He continued to just say hello over and over again, sort of like a taunt. This really made me mad because I kept thinking that people are complete assholes. Think about it: you've stolen someone's phone, the person calls you, clearly upset and just asks for the phone back, and you just taunt the person. That's nice. That's real fucking nice. (When I think "logically" about it, of course, I think, "If you're gonna steal a phone and cash, are you really that considerate that you care about anybody's feelings and you actually respond to them when they ask for the phone back?" Umm, of course not.)
After listening to that crap, I realized I wasn't getting my phone back any way voluntarily, so I went to the administrators. There's this woman who runs all the discipline at the school, and she is a freaking master. Nobody messes with her. She gets kids to confess to anything. She was who I needed. Thankfully, she was there and she helped. I can't go into many details, except that she spent the afternoon calling about fifty kids and being so intimidating through the phone that most of them listened when they were told not to get on the phone or go outside until she drove down to the projects herself and talked to them. "If you don't tell me where that phone is," she would tell them, "then when I drive down there in 20 minutes, expect me at your door. And I won't be alone. I'll have the police and their dogs and their handcuffs with me." If only you could hear her voice. A few teachers listening were like, "Umm, those kids are shitting themselves right now," and you know what? I wouldn't doubt it.
Two hours of phone calls, and we thought we had the story straight:
Apparently, while a few of the kids (none I teach, thank god) were doing the job of cleaning some of the classrooms, they decided it wasn't enough to empty some paper bins so they also emptied my wallet and bag. Then - this is what we thought at first - the kid who stole my phone and cash put it in his locker but got freakd out by the whole thing and didn't want to take it out of the school, so a few others helped him out. I guess once you steal something, your ideals of fairness, justice, and equality come back to you because they divided everything pretty "equally": one kid got $20, another got $20, another got $20, and a girl took my cell phone to try to sell for $20. (The phone retails for about $300, so whoever she was selling it to would have gotten an insane deal, but I digress.) My point is, nobody took "everything" because that just wouldn't be "fair" to anybody. I assume, by the way, that I, the owner of the aforementioned items, am not part of "anybody" in the minds of these twits.
This turned out to be semi-accurate: though they did split the cash, the original thief kept my phone. Once we knew where the phone was, another call was made. This one was short: "We're coming for the phone. You get that phone, you give that phone to your grandmother. I don't care who you have to go get that phone back from. You get that phone, your grandmother and you better meet us outside when we arrive in 20 minutes or you'll be telling the police your story from the inside of a jail cell in an hour."
Twenty minutes later, I had my cell phone back.
As the thief handed it over to me, he wouldn't really look at me. I looked down at my phone that I had had for three months, which was in perfect condition when he stole it. It was now bent sideways so that it didn't quite slide closed. The screen was so badly damaged you couldn't read anything when you turned it on. I was seething and I could feel myself glaring openly at him as the administrator tried to calm down the grandmother, who, kind as she was, kept going on and on about how she was just wishing he'd told her the truth. This struck me as troubling because it's not as if her grandson was late coming home or skipped school and lied about it; the actual transgression - THEFT, something that I could have him arrested for - is pretty bad itself. I decided to let that one slide.
I didn't say much about the phone being completely damaged because I figured I could talk more about that when we met with him at school, rather than berate him in front of his grandmother who was crying because she didn't know what to do about him. I didn't say much when he mumbled an apology, barely audible and completely insincere, to me. I didn't ask him if he'd made any phone calls or sent any text messages; and I didn't ask him what he did with the cash. I didn't say anything to him at that time, because I didn't want to make a huge scene in the middle of the neighborhood.
And then, when I guess he had grown tired of the conversation between the administrator and his grandmother, he said, "Gramma, I'm late for my basketball game."
Yup. "Gramma, I'm late for my basketball game."
Hello, roof. Goodbye, roof.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" I suddenly piped up. "You're late for your basketball game! You have a teacher and an administrator drive down to your house at 4:30 PM after school to track down a phone you have STOLEN from me, and you're late for a basketball game. I'm out $60, several hours, and now I'm off to go spend more time at the cell phone store getting this repaired, but you're late for your basketball game! I could have come down here with the police but you're late for your basketball game! Excuse me, but I don't care about your basketball game."
I have never been in such control of the English language, because the truth is, every other word in that was carefully measured. "You fucking little shit bastard," almost came out about ten times, as well as, "You can go fuck yourself and your basketball game," "I hope you miss your whole fucking basketball season," and "You are a fucking selfish rotten asshole." Luckily, none of those phrases came out.
Instead, we left and he presumably went to his basketball game, albeit late.
I went on to my cell phone store to get my phone taken care of. When I walked in, I was the only customer in the store so I walked straight back to the service desk. Nobody stopped me, but when I got back there, I was told to go back and see Ron to check in. I said okay, and I went back to see Ron, who told me he'd put me on the list and there might be a wait.
I looked around again and saw literally NOBODY.
"So, how long a wait then?" I asked, sort of gesturing to the empty store.
"Probably about five to ten minutes," he said.
"How many ahead of me?" I asked. Probably a little on the sarcastic edge. Can you blame me though?
"Nobody," he said.
"Oh. Soo... why the wait?"
"Five minutes isn't that long."
"Look," I said. I wasn't putting up with anybody else's shit. Maybe I can't tell a student to go to hell, but this Ron character was another story. "I'm sorry, I'm not understanding this system. I need technical support for my phone, there's nobody in the store, and you've got about ten people working. I know everyone who comes in here without a working cellphone feels like their lifeline's gone and it'sa big deal, but I have just had an awful day and so I'd like to get everything taken care of as quickly as possible."
"You've got about four minutes left to wait."
I looked at him quizzically. I think my eyebrow was probably at the back of my head.
"We like to have clients wait about five minutes so they de-stress before they approach the desk."
Good strategy, Verizon: make people wait so that they calm down. Research shows waiting when you're anxious and in need of service makes people calmer.
About three minutes and thirty seconds later, Luis called me over. I told him what happened, abbreviated. He told me he could help me. He gave me a new phone ("This thing's more dead than my gramma," he said. Classy, sir.) and he transferred my numbers ("You got some fun nicknames in there, girly"). He then told me I would have to re-activate my phone, since I had it inactivated when it had been stolen.
"Can you do that?" I asked him.
"No, you have to go to customer service." He pointed across the way at an empty computer.
I looked at him quizzically, but I bet my eyebrow didn't move. By now, it was probably permanently lodged in the back of my head.
"Someone will be there momentarily to take care of that for you."
"Umm, okay." I walked over - literally like ten feet. When I got there, who was waiting for me? Luis.
And I swear, this is what he said to me: "Hi ma'am, how can I help you today?" only he wasn't kidding; it was as though he was reading a script. (It reminded me of the Verizon lady who had helped me suspend my service a few hours earlier; she was too chirpy at the end of the conversation and said things like a robot: "Thank you for calling Verizon today ma'am, the largest network... I hope you continue to have a wonderful day." Hey, lady? You just heard why I was canceling my phone. Not so wonderful. If you're gonna have employees read from a script, maybe you should have a few alternatives to the "I just ordered a few more ringtones/paid my bill" speech. How about a "I just got my phone stolen by a 13 year old" one?)
Anyway, it took a lot for me not to laugh at Luis. If I hadn't been grumpy about my phone and tired by the entire ordeal, I probably would have found the situation more humorous, but I was kind of still upset and just wanted to get everything done. So I played along and told Luis I wanted to re-install my service.
"Why did you cancel it, ma'am?"
"Luis, I told you. I cancelled it because it was stolen."
"Can you give me the exact details?"
"Luis, I did already. Twice."
"Right, but that was over at tech support. This is customer service."
"What, is the program not available on this computer to cut and paste the details?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, ma'am."
"The phone was stolen at work between 12 and 1:20 PM. I called Verizon at 2 PM. I'd like any charges that were accrued during the 12 and 2 PM time to be voided, if possible."
"I think that's possible."
"Luis, over at tech support twenty minutes ago, you told me it was possible."
"It is, ma'am. At customer service, we always say 'I think,' though."
That's ironic.
"Ma'am, would you like your service re-instated on your old phone or are you buying a replacement?"
"Luis! You just gave me the replacement!"
"So you'd like your service re-instated immediately?"
"Please."
"On your new phone?"
"Yes, that's the only one I have that works."
"Okay, we'll get that set up for you right this second." He clicked away on his computer.
"Are we all set?"
"You'll have to go back over to tech support to get everything squared away," he said.
"Okay."
I walked ten feet back to my original spot and Luis came with me. Once he had seated himself at the tech support computer, he asked me, "So, did tech support re-instate your service?"
If the "I'm late for my basketball game" comment hadn't come from a thief, and the thief being the thief who stole my phone and money, this comment would have ranked up there with most infuriating comment of the decade, but sadly, that title went to the stupid bastard who got me into this mess in the first place.
Anyway, I got my phone back from the thief and I got a new phone from the moron, but not all is well that ends well. It's not okay that someone stole money and property from me. And it's not okay that my favorite text messages have gone the way of the dodo. It's not okay that I spent an hour dealing with Luis at two different desks. It's not okay that I'm out $110 total - the cash that hasn't been returned to me and the $50 it cost to replace my phone. I swear, if someone tells me to look at this in the best light possible, I'm going to ignite them. You want something positive from this?
It was a banner day for assholes and morons.
Spring has sprung.
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