This past Sunday, my wallet was stolen. It’s annoying, but it could be worse – imagine if this had happened the week before we closed on the house, for instance, and I hadn’t had any legal I.D. when all those papers needed signing.
I lost the wallet late Sunday afternoon, and by early Sunday evening the thief was using my credit cards to buy bus passes (which I assume are easily converted into currency, or maybe used as currency). Which I find oddly reassuring. If he (she?) hadn’t used the cards, I’d be dithering, wondering if I had really lost my wallet or if it was going to turn up under a sofa cushion next week and I’d be regretting canceling the credit cards.
I bought a new wallet yesterday evening. It occurs to me that my 25 or so walletless hours were the first time I haven’t owned a wallet since I was a child. An odd, brief moment of walletlessness in an otherwise walleted life..
“An odd, brief moment of walletness in an other walleted life.
Not to be the grammar police but did you mean “otherwise walleted life” or did you briefly cross over into a new, other life in which you were meant to be walleted and yet still did not have a wallet?
Sounds like an episode of “The Pocketbook Zone” or perhaps “The Budget Limits.”
Heh. Now you see what passes as humour in my neck of.. My body, I suppose. I don’t live in a forest.
I thought you guys over there called a wallet a pocketbook. So, are we getting some real English into Americanese at last. How about lift (elevator), footpath (sidewalk), toilet (bathroom), bonnet (hood), boot (trunk), er… perhaps not … some are just as silly as the other.
Well, you know what they say: “A Republican is a Democrat who has been mugged.” So I guess we’ll be seeing a shift in focus around here, then?
Roy: I’ve always called it a wallet. In fact, certain persons that I know believe that it’s the people on the other side of the pond who call it a “pocketbook” and that all real speakers of English (aka, Americans) call it a “wallet.” [shrug]
Then again, I think it’s spelled “colour,” damnit, despite having grown up in the middle of the U.S.
Wallet — a small billfold sort of thing for carrying cash, change, credit cards and ID, and possibly more, depending on the wallet. Often can fit into a pocket — except some of the “women’s wallets” which are larger (and can also hold a checkbook). Used by both men and women.
Pocketbook — a purse. Usually has a strap to carry over the shoulder; something you put your wallet into. Usually only carried by women.
Ah. See, and I always just called pocketbooks purses. [sigh] The English language is so complicated. I’m going to give up and just learn Chinese or something easy like that.
Heh. Anyone who reads the recent *Consumer Reports* article about how easy identity theft is, with or without your wallet, would be more likely to cross over to anarchy, or possibly nihilism. Regardless of whether on not they started out Democratic or Republican. :p
I’ve lost my wallet twice that I remember. Once, here in IN, I dropped it in a supermarket car park. I went there two hours later and someone had turned it in with all the money inside. The other time, in Paris. The guy who found it called me, and we met for a drink. I didn’t give him a reward (I bought his drink), and one reason is there had been quite a bit of cash in it when I dropped it, and that was gone when he returned it. I couldn’t get past the nagging feeling that he might have stolen the money and called me to get a reward too.
I’m glad your person mainly bought bus passes.
A wallet is sometimes called a billfold. Perhaps that’s the word that Roy is thinking of.
Amp: Sorry to hear about it; I’ve been there and it stinks to be without ID. I assume you’ve reported the theft of the credit cards, etc., but be sure to be thorough. You don’t want some thief running up late charges for “When Justin Met Kelly” on your Blockbuster card, or checking out Ann Coulter books with your library card.
John I.: I once had my briefcase “disappear” on the commuter train, and then some smooth-talking guy called to say that he had “found” it. He wanted to meet to return it, and he started dropping hints about wanting a reward for finding it. Eventually, I had him come to the main reception area at my office, where I carried out a transaction that presumably amounted to my buying my briefcase back from a thief for $25. Everything was in it, though.
You think that’s bad. I’m working for the Bush administration and I lost Saddam’s entire Weapons stockpile. If anyone’s found it, give me a call.
I love Raznor’s line. Tom T., I think my guy was dropping hints about a reward. Buying the drink was my compromise. Paying or not paying would have left me feeling dirty.
I assume your drivers’ license was in your wallet? If so, you should run credit checks on yourself every few weeks for the next six months, and if anything strange turns up, call the FBI.
I lost several wallets, one time right after getting paid in cash, because I used to a) wear big baggy pants (still do) b) buy slippery leather wallets (now used a wallet made out of something like canvas, though I went through a phase wherein I kept my money in a thing strapped to my belt c) take public transportation (which I generally manage to avoid in the mother country).
Now you know.
During the keeping-my-money-in-a-thing-strapped-to-my-belt period referred to above, I once went the Watts Towers music festival, wherein one of the food vendors, as I was getting the cash to pay him, shot me one of those you’re-only-keeping-your-money-in-a-thing-strapped-to-your-belt-because-I’m-Black looks, but of course that was not the case at all.
While we’re all sharing stories…
I lost my wallet once, cheap canvas thing, a few days after the first time I was ever paid for a piece of my writing. I hadn’t cashed the cheque yet as I didn’t have a checking account at the time (I was young). Thankfully, the wallet wasn’t stolen or simply lost somewhere. Nope, I managed to accidentally have it in my pocket when I went on a boat ride at an amusement park. It fell out into the water never to be seen again, or at least not by me. I assume, though, that even if someone found it the stuff inside (the story cheque and a few pieces of paper on which I’d scribbled ideas) was too water-logged to be of use.
If not, they got seventy dollars and the ravings of a strange little twelve-year-old.
PDP–
I think Amp means to end the entry with ” . . . walletlessness in an otherwise walleted life.”
Sorry for the picayunity: I’ve been girding student’s papes all evening and am in a cope-editing frezny.
No worries about Amp’s driver’s license — he doesn’t have one.
Here’s a lost wallet story for you — actually, it’s a lost purse story.
I was visiting my SO (Dan) and best friend (Anjili) in Montreal for the weekend. It was my best friend’s birthday, so we went out to a club (Dan and Anjili don’t get along, so he stayed home). At the bar, my purse was stolen. In my purse was all of my ID, my cash, credit card, bank card, and keys.
I went back to Anjili’s apartment and called the police, but there was nothing they could do — they said to go down to the station and file a report the next day. Meantime, there really wasn’t anywhere to sleep at Anjili’s, so we (my other friend, Shara, and I) had to find a way to get over to Dan’s — way on the other side of the city. Seeing as how it was about 3 in the morning, there were no buses or metros running, and the only money we had was the $12 (US) Shara had. We found a cabbie who said he would take the American money, but he would not convert it. So, we took the cab as far as $12 American would get us — about 2 miles from Dan’s. We walked the rest of the way and spent the night in Dan’s very tiny studio apartment. The next morning we took the metro downtown — but, being Sunday, it stopped 2 stops before we needed to get off. So, we walked the extra distance, only to find out that what we thought was a police station was only a holding station, and we had to walk 2 miles to another station. We get to the police station, and I try to make a report — but the cop refused to speak English. Fortunately, Dan — the Montrealer he was — spoke enough French so that we were able to make the report. Then we walked the 6 miles to Anjili’s house, where my car was. Of course, the car didn’t do me much good with no keys. We tried several locksmiths — but, being a Sunday, there weren’t many that would come out (not for under $100, anyway). Finally, Anjili’s roommate came home and said she had a friend who was a locksmith — she called him and he came right out and made me a key for my car (for only $60, too).
Of course, that was only half the battle. Now, I still needed to get home (had to borrow money for gas), cross the border with no ID (fortunately, this was pre-9/11, so that was no big deal), and call my landlord to let me into my apartment — because, again, no keys.
Let me tell you, I’m damn careful with my purse and wallet now.
Grammer corrected. :-)
bean, I hope it was summertime.
Well, it was early fall (September). It was chilly, but it wasn’t winter.
Those were long walks.
Amp, one other thing: I would approach with caution the suggestion that you run frequent credit checks on yourself in the weeks to come. If memory serves, your credit rating can be downgraded merely by having numerous credit checks on your record. I’m not sure of the rationale; perhaps it looks like you’re trying to (or about to) incur lots of debt.
yea well i guess i have no idea what u guys are taling about so what am i doing here lol well bye……….