A few Wednesdays back, Travis, Leroy and I went to dinner with some friends and their pup, whom we haven't seen in several years. It was a place that serves tasty food & beer, including my favorite foamy goodness that's aged in whiskey barrels. I say it's my favorite yet can never remember the name, although there is a C somewhere. Leroy and Beckett got along smashingly and us ladies gabbed while the men gabbed too. Two tough guys were getting wasted and chatting up this pretty thing, telling tales of this guy named Charlie who had a killer boat. It was a really awesome, relaxing evening. Until it wasn't.
Because of the dogs, we sat on the restaurant's patio, that butts up (butts) to a busy main street. So picture it. You step through the metal flanked committee and have an open walkway towards the inside restaurant. On either side are rows of tables that line the walls. The outer seats are matched with chairs, while the inner is a solid, thick, wooden bench. We're at our 4 top in the back and to the left, with only one other table further inlet. My back is to it, while I face our friend Claire. I had set my phone on this other table because no one was there while we were eating and I wanted to keep my chipped & cracked device ketchup free. I didn't really move away from that position the entire night.
We finished dinner and let the dogs non-obnoxiously play on the bench, pretty engaged between them and laughing. I grabbed my phone from the table to take some photos, but it was too dark. Leroy noticed some pretty birds leaving the restaurant. He trotted on the bench to greet them, while they commented on his lovely, giant ears and groovy Star Wars sweater. I put the phone down where it had previously floated on its metal moat, so I could be a responsible puppy parent while they were engaged.
Whether this guy had been scoping out the joint from the sidewalk or simply got a hair up his butt (butt) I'll never know.
But (butt) fuck that guy.
Per the security cam footage, he walked past the metal flanking gates, onto the patio, and inside to the restaurant. He grabbed a menu and came back outside, sitting where else, but at the table my back was too - and where my phone was. He threw his bag over my phone the second he planted his tush in the seat, not more than 2 feet from me. He stupidly fumbled around with the menu, thinking he's being all slick by "pondering" what he would order. The nerve. I mean yes, my lack of awareness too, but dude, the nerve.
About 5 seconds later, slick was gone.
About 5 minutes later, we got up to leave. 5. minutes.
We started looking around, under the chairs, my friend in her purse, every place the phone SHOULD have been. It's a very unnatural feeling missing something you know you had. You repeatedly pat your pockets, shove your hands in your coat, check your shoes, your hair. I started looking at Mr. & Mr. Hit-on, wondering if they somehow they snagged it. I scanned every face still there, hoping for a sign of guilt. But nothing. Everyone was in their own conversation, completely oblivious to our peril. sad face.
After driving a couple rounds to see if he was still around, we gave up and went home. Shut off service, blocked it, changed passwords for the few apps I had running, and remotely detonated it. After handling all the security stuff though, my emotions began. As I took mental inventory, it became clear how many photos weren't backed up, the numbers I lost, and the personal notes I always need that were gone. Can't get that back-ever. It's just a material thing, but it's still my material thing I didn't give permission this asshole could take. I don't like feeling someone has photos of my Leroy and my veggies. Notes about presents and journal ideas. Offering written gibberish that is up to me to decide when or if I'll share. It's invasive and violating, and it was just a fucking phone! I can't imagine a home invasion or being car jacked. I learned the next day by taking the steps I did, it should have been very difficult for any schmuck to access the items I was worried about - which is nice and comforting. But still.
But the phone wasn't pristine, it was chipped & cracked and I hope he sliced his wrist or cut his nose doing blow. Because once it's dead in the water, naturally the only thing he can do is blow. All I can do is laugh.
So because baddies & potential baddies I'm sure read journals, don't be an asshole. And don't hack shit. And don't steal stuff. It's easier being kind.
besos.
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