The Lost iPhone: 24 Hours
Yesterday I lost my iPhone. Yes, my iPhone I named Ben, black iPhone 3GS 32GB, without a case. I took it off. It was in my pocket and I was in a department store. I checked my phone and put it in my pocket, and found a shoe that I wanted to try on. I sat down to try on that shoe, and let me tell you, I am never buying shoes again.
I am never trusting pockets again.
It was probably a maximum of four minutes since I last saw my iPhone, and I realised that it wasn’t on my person. I panicked, I was frantic, didn’t even think of anything but to check all my pockets and my bag thoroughly. It was not there. And I know that in my state of panic I could have thought better, but I didn’t. That isn’t the point. It’s far, far too late now for a lot of things I could have done. But I ran back to my mother’s counter – she worked in a part of the store not far from where the shoes were. I ran back without really looking at the floor around me, suddenly thinking that I had left it with her, where I had talked to her last.
I talked to some of her colleagues, and ran back and asked around the shoe department if anyone had found it. A woman offered to call the number and she did – but fuck, it was off. It was disconnected. I had pretty much lost all hope of finding it at all. I looked around me for the people who had been near me and they were gone.
Writing about this makes me upset. It really does. Even though I wasn’t upset yesterday, recalling the events makes me really disappointed. That phone maybe wasn’t my “everything”, but it had a lot on it. I know I have backups of all 20 GB of music, at least 1000 photos, and even changed all my passwords for my email/accounts now (even though there was a passcode on the iPhone), but the point is that now it is gone. :(
After this I just borrowed the store’s phone. I phoned the police and a report was made. I went to the phone store just a few levels up and they were kind enough to give me all the information I needed, and the man who served me locked my SIM card in my iPhone via a computer, and gave me a new card.
The new card is now in an spare flip phone my dad gave me. I’ve lost all my contacts, not that it matters because I only call and text about ten people anyway. I’m lucky I still have the same phone number.
My mum talked to the operations manager of the store, giving a recount of the incident and a description of my appearance, and eventually, some footage was found. Information about it was not disclosed until today. It was found that I had dropped the phone while sitting, and as I put the shoe on, my heel kicked the phone a fair distance.
What are the odds. What are the odds of me kicking a phone under my seat with my heel while trying a shoe on. About one in a hundred. Bloody hell.
“A person picked it up and gave it to someone else” – exactly what we were given. Just a person.
No one could help me find the whereabouts of the phone with appropriate technology. Not the police, not my phone provider, not Apple, because my phone was bought on its own, and I didn’t have security software. I can not get a replacement because I don’t have belongings insured.
Now if anyone tries to use the phone they can’t, and it’s been blacklisted too. I’m trying not to hope too hard, but I hope I get it back.
I can live without my phone, and as I said to my friends, I promise I’m not depressed. It wasn’t like my life was in that phone. It wasn’t like I lost a family member or a friend or even lost my leg. It’s not like I lost all the things there. But it was the combination of music, photos, emails, to-do lists and contact names and numbers that will never be the same. I can get a new phone and put it all on (not like they sell the iPhone 3GS anymore, and I don’t like the iPhone 4), but it’s not the same. I promise you, it’s not the same.
If someone hands in my phone, I will be so grateful. Until then, I’m not judging, but if the person with it doesn’t hand it in, they are a cruel, completely dishonest and selfish human being, and I promise karma is going to be a bitch and there will be unfortunate events in their wake.
Several times I’ve found things just as expensive and valuable as a phone, and turned it in. I don’t know how anyone could live with the guilt, quite possibly when people could see me in the store frantically looking for something that I lost or dropped. Bloody fuck.
I think there’s supposed to be a power in words, so they say. I don’t even know. /wah