Wake Up Call

I live a pretty sheltered life. I take the bus to work in the Financial District every morning. I sit at my cushy desk on the 23 floor of my office surrounded by great views. I take the bus home and make the short walk to my cozy apartment in Cow Hollow. Repeat these routines most days out of the year and anyone would note that I don’t live a particularly risky or dangerous lifestyle. This is good news because it means my chances of being mugged by a cracked out tranny on Muni are slim (should I knock on wood?). On the other hand, it is that kind of mentality that provides a false sense of security and can often be detrimental.

There has been many times where I have been scolded by friends and family for leaving my purse around open and unattended. For example, I’ll be reaching for the turkey meat balls at Trader Joe’s half an isle away from my cart, thinking about what a pain in the ass carrying all these groceries up my stairs will be; Meanwhile, my beautiful Marc Jacobs bag sits in my cart with little to no supervision. It’s practically begging for every hoodlum and thug to walk by and snag it. I however, tell myself that it could never happen to me. I am the exception not the rule.

A couple weekends back I traveled to Palm Springs with my company for our firm wide retreat. The whole weekend was a complete blur of eating, drinking and socializing (is it possible to gain 20 lbs in 4 days?). I could write several blogs in regards to what a shit show I was (e.g. falling, like, at least 5 times and having to call the resort’s front desk for first aid). There was, however, one event in particular worth mentioning.

Sunday night was the grand finale of our stay. Close to five-hundred of us gathered on the golf course for a catered meal, live music and fireworks. I was having a grand old time trying to power through my hangover with Chardonnay; I was letting my hair down, dancing to the band with coworkers and generally having a kick ass time. Cut to my assigned table where a lovely gold clutch was laying unattended. Now, cut to a strange man impersonating a Cornerstone employee walking by and not so slyly swiping the gold clutch from said table. Finally, end with a crazy lady freaking out, frantically searching and screaming at everyone, asking where her gold purse was.

I am embarrassed to admit that the crazy lady in that blurb…was me (cue melodramatic music now). Joking aside, it was one of the scarier moments I’ve had in a while. The contents of my purse were rather important and included: my cell phone, camera, license and ATM card. Why I brought all of these things to a work related dinner is beyond me but what bothered me the most was the idea of not having my cell phone for a few days. What do you MEAN I won't be able to talk to people whenever I want? What if somebody is trying to get a hold of me AS I SPEAK and I can’t respond because this asshole ripped me off?? Fuck the other shit…WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITHOUT MY PHONE?? I had visions of myself a week later, friendless and lonely as a result of no contact.

My boss stops me in mid thought and tells me that he saw a man go in to the bathroom with a gold purse under his jacket. As he’s telling me this the unidentified man walks by and my boss grabs him by the shirt. Everything happened so quickly but the next thing I remember is me wildly throwing my fists in his direction and screaming, “Give me my shit back, Mother Fucker!!” After several minutes of me hurling insults at him, security finally got with the program and came to help. All of my stuff with the exception of some lip gloss was recovered, thank God. I breathed a sigh of relief as my cell phone materialized from his pocket. Nobody had called.