Now you see it. Now you don’t.

beware-pickpockets-loose-women-8232508

Things like this happen to other people. They don’t happen to me.

And when other people share their experiences, I’m happy to lend an ear and shoulder to cry on.

But, when it happens to me, it comes as a very unwelcome shock.

I got pick-pocketed. Or maybe pick-handbagged? I don’t know the right expression for it.

There I was happily shopping in Cotton On Eastgate. I had spotted a Guns and Roses hoodie, I quite liked and was simultaneously trying to keep preteen girl on a leash and a budget.

So, yes, I was distracted.

“Oh,” said a pretty young girl on my right, “I think that’s the last one, that lady over there, (pointing), was also looking for one.”

I followed her pointing finger and felt the lady on the right bump into me.

I assumed this was my fault and looked into her eyes to apologize.

Her eyes were, in retrospect, a little like looking into these of a deer caught in headlights.

Then I noticed that my bag was open and without thinking just closed it and moseyed along.

It was only when I wanted to check Waze to avoid any traffic snarl-ups did I become aware that my phone had done a vanishing act.

Telling me that there’s a syndicate in the mall who do this regularly and that your second cousin twice removed was robbed there on Tuesday doesn’t help.

Neither does my cellphone providers stupid instructions on how to report my phone stolen, all of which require a bloody cellphone to do.

Or the store’s total unwillingness to check their security feeds.

Now, I have to schlep to the cop station at lunch and get a case number having to endure their pitying looks and judgement for being such a moron all the while.

Hence, I followed the stages of grief.

Denial: This can’t be right. I must have left it somewhere or it’s fallen out in the car.

Anger: That bitch stole my phone! I feel so violated.

Bargaining: If I get it back I will be a good girl and always read my WhatsApps and answer calls.

Depression: This is all my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Why aren’t all people nice?

Acceptance: I am up the creek without a paddle, navigating a digital world with an analogue compass. I’m going to have get a new phone.

Bugger.

 

 

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