There’s some things that you should know about me. I have a beautiful closet, I only use high quality cosmetics, I have really great hair, and boys don’t talk to me.
You think I’m being dramatic, but even the barista at Starbucks won’t talk to me. He will do a strange head nod to take my order, and then that’s it. The waiter at the restaurant asks my friend what we are ordering. The cashier at Barnes and Noble actually walked away when I approached the counter. I have an invisible man-repellent force field. So this story is particularly wonderful.
On Labor Day, I ran over to Wal-Mart to pick up some staples that I had run out of. I grabbed eggs, some whole wheat bread, milk, coffee creamer, cat treats (essential) and a cake (also essential). I didn’t really need to go out, but I wanted to show off my new cute white sweater and my relatively-new Vans. Hey, any excuse for a cute outfit.
I got into line and began the usual awkward line-standing-dance; read the magazine titles, stare at the ceiling, inspect the eggs, avoid eye-contact with anyone. I went into my bag to get out my ATM card and my wallet was gone.
Cue wild panic. Where could it be?! Was it lost, or stolen?! I had gift cards in there!! And what do I do? Do I leave my items and walk away? Could I ask someone else to pay for them?! Would I have to endure the embarrassment of putting all these items back??
The obvious solution was to call daddy and have him deliver his ATM card. So I grabbed my phone and dialed. He answered right away and only sounded a little annoyed and not at all surprised. I said “daddy, my wallet is missing!” and he calmly replied “okay, I will meet you at the front entrance.”
The mission impossible theme song started to play. I swung my gigantic Longchamp bag over my shoulder and turned to the guy behind me. Without glancing at him, I said “could you please watch my stuff? I need to grab a Visa.” and I RAN! to the front entrance. I grabbed the card, thanked daddy, and ran back to the check out counter.
As I swiftly walked to the counter, this young man was reaching into my cart and unpacking my eggs onto the conveyor belt. He was motioning towards me to the cashier who nodded and smiled. I walked up, totally breathless from running, and said something like “thank you so much, I am such a mess, I really appreciate this” to which he replied “oh, it’s quite all right, tut tut, tally ho, long live the Queen“***
* items in italics did not actually happen.
Yes, you heard that – the cute young man and his cute young friend had British accents. I positively melted, put on a stupid grin and turn a rather bright shade of red. “Oh, where are you from” I practically sang. “England!” he responded.
I laughed while the cashier rang up my cat treats. “Oh, how funny, I’ll be there this summer.”
“Well we’ll be in London, but we’re going to spend a few days in the Cotswolds.”
“Really! That’s where we are from! We just got here this morning”
“Wow! What a small world – I have a friend who lives there.”
“That’ll be $38.72” the damn cashier interrupted.
As I swiped daddy’s ATM card, I said “well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Thanks again.”
I give one more look at the adorable British guy, in his cool t-shirt and his hipster hat (he doesn’t realize those hats are only for hipsters in America but oh – he will learn) and with my best All-American-Girl smile, I turned and walked out.
When I got home, I loudly and unapologetically reported this tale on Twitter, the lovely Heidi Agan responded with something poignant. She said, “You’ve got a fab story to tell. Blush all you want. You didn’t have you wallet for a reason. And it sounds like it turned out to be a good reason. Fate.”
Fate. What a funny thing Fate is.
I was giggly for two days. He was actually staying in a nearby hotel but no matter how hard I stalked, I didn’t see him again. The wallet was sitting on my coffee table the whole time.