Sunset, diapers, my cell phone and the police

I already had taken one walk on the beach and didn’t feel the need for another, but Elena had a rough day and needed to move some. I agreed to accompany her, grabbing the Frisbee on our way out. We found Tara and the kids there, the first time in recent memory, and it was young Aiden’s very first time in the Gulf. He was a handful, returning to the water time after time. Elena and I headed south, tossing the Frisbee between us and catching another great sunset.

And then I realized my cell phone was missing.

I returned south, Elena headed north. I was cursing myself for bringing it. That belt clip never held it very securely. Tara caught up with me and dialed my number from her cell.

A man answered. He was inquiring whether a reward was being offered for the return of the phone.

“But you have the phone in your hand,” Tara exclaimed. “It’s not lost. You have it!”

She handed her phone to me and the man asked what I thought might be a fair reward. I explained that the insurance would replace the phone and it wouldn’t work within minutes of my calling the carrier.

That did not seem to concern him. He was interested in immediate gratification. We tentatively agreed to twenty dollars but, I explained, I needed to walk home to get the money and would then drive to the gas station he was waiting at, just a few blocks away.

You can imagine my mood. I was thinking that maybe this was a message to me to just quit using the damn thing, to cancel my service and not replace the phone.

What really bothered me was that this was happening in my community. I didn’t care about the phone or the twenty dollars, but I was concerned about the personal information on the phone and how it might lead to identity theft. And I knew the direct line to our local police dispatcher.

I called to ask their advice. The dispatcher said to come to the station and that a police officer would accompany me to the “exchange.”

“Do not give this man money,” instructed the police officer. “Get your phone and walk away. We’ll take care of the rest.”

The man in question stood conspicuously at the edge of the gas station, my phone in his hand, just a block away from the police station and only a few blocks from our home. I circled around so that he would be on my side of the car. No sense exposing Elena to any more risk than necessary.

“That’s a nice phone,” he exclaimed, handing it to me. “Hey, I’m just trying to afford some diapers for my child.”

“I don’t think the police would look at it that way,” I replied, looking in the rear view mirror and wondering where they were.

“Well, that’s the way it is.”

“Look, I’m sympathetic to the child and the diapers thing,” I explained, “but these are tough times for everybody. I closed my company and my wife is only working half time.”

“In tough times like these, we all need to be nice to each other. This isn’t the way to do that,” I suggested.

“Oh well,” seemed to be his response.

And then three police cars converged on our little corner of the world.

I pulled my vehicle to the other side of the parking lot. A police woman walked over and asked how I liked my Honda CR-V. She had a Toyota RAV-4. We briefly compared our reasons for choosing our vehicles and then she asked if everything was okay. We said yes, thanked her and drove away. A double Martini was clearly in order.

I don’t know what the police will do with the guy. The officer I spoke with actually used the word extortion. It didn’t seem he would be too sympathetic about diapers. The guy wasn’t threatening or anything. Everyone was amazingly calm and casual. But I can’t help but feel he was telling the truth about why he was standing on that corner with my phone in his hand. These are tough times. Look how it effected one man’s judgement. I’m sure seeing three police cars show up may have raised that very question in his mind.

I meant what I said. If we don’t all look after each other, and be nice, these hard times won’t get any easier. On the other hand, a lot of people are bound to grow more desperate. Nice may not always carry the day. We should probably learn to be more careful, too.