I got the phone! For some of you, that’s all you need to know since you are busy people with demanding schedules and you somehow got sucked into this saga yesterday against your will. You have to admit it did provide a few laughs — we might need to have a contest on which you think were the funniest comments. Rapple chips and papsi made me LOL.
For everyone else, here’s the rest of the story.
It all started at church. (Of course, doesn’t everything?) I wore “church clothes” which, for women, means no pockets. In this day of constant connection, what does a girl do with a cell phone when she has no pocket? (my bosom is not buxom enough to support a phone–tried it and it fell out). So I put the phone in the pocket of my sweater hanging on the wall in the nursery–my Sunday morning kingdom.
When Sunday School ended, I grabbed my purse but not the sweater since it was warm in the building, and left the room. Don’t you know the music was great, the preacher (my hubby) gave a terrific message, I got convicted, repented, prayed, made changes to my life (still with me?), then I met new visitors, chatted with friends, and got mobbed by the grandkids who all wanted to come home with me. We sorted it all out and left in a flurry, sans the sweater still hanging in the nursery.
Important note: our church meets in a busy community centre owned by three live drama companies. When we leave our rented space Sunday mornings, there are usually other people waiting to get in.
Sunday afternoon was lots of fun with the grands, my granddog and some neighbourhood kids–we took a picnic (Ok, it was 3 apples and a knife. I’m not Martha Stewart) to the playground. Hours later when the kids went home I started looking for my phone. I remembered last seeing it at the community centre but it was too late to call. No matter, I thought, I will call tomorrow.
Monday morning I went to my daughter’s nearby house to use her phone–we have no landline. I called the CC but always got an answering machine. No matter, we had to go to the landfill in Calgary so we would drop by the CC and pick it up.
When I went to the CC and asked the office manager if a phone had been turned in she said no and she directed me to the Lost and Found bin. Nada.
That’s when this whole mess, started to get complicated…and quite funny.
I reacted like a mature godly woman…”Someone stole my phone! I’m goin’ after ’em! Kneecaps may get damaged along the way!” You get the picture.
My son-in-law Brad remotely (if you’re my age you don’t know what this means–you think it means somewhat or barely but it actually means fiddling with a tech device from another location) locked my phone and put a message on the screen saying This phone is lost please contact (his number).
He told me he could erase the phone also but before doing that, I should try to get it back. Then he showed me the App for tracking and pinging. Can you believe it? Big Brother exists! Brad said that at that moment the phone was at such and such address.
My daughter Christine was with me–we were using her phone for the communication with Brad. We decided we would go scope out the place where the phone was but Brad called again saying the phone was on the move–headed north on Deerfoot Trail.
We called the police. we were directed to the Non-Emergency Lukewarm Line who told us, if you can read between the lines: First you have to file a police report. The police have to come to you–this can take hours so get comfortable. Once that’s done, if and when they get time/feel like it/have nothing better to do/aren’t chasing murderers or real bad guys, they may go check it out. If the address is a multiple dwelling, they’re done. If the address is a parking lot or a empty lot, they’re done. If the address is a house they will knock on the door and if it is answered they will ask for your phone. If the person says they don’t have it, they’re done.
After this I told the woman I would think about it and possibly call back.
DO NOT GO AFTER IT YOURSELF! she advised.
I crossed my fingers behind my back and said of course not.
Once home, I got the App on my iPad and began to track the phone. It was going all over the NE quadrant of Calgary. I kept pinging it and it kept moving.
Ha! My pinging has them on the run!
Gerry got home from work about 9 pm and I brought him up to date. By that time the phone had stopped moving and it was at an address that seemed to be home base for this nest of vipers. I told him my Google search revealed the house had been condemned as a grow-op in 2011. He was rather inclined to drive in to Calgary and retrieve the phone right then. I thought it was way too late and we were way too tired. We went to bed
The next morning, on Facebook, I posted what I thought was an innocent question:
My iPhone was taken (along with my favourite sweater — phone in pocket) from the Beddington Community Centre on Sunday. I have been tracking it and it has put on a lot of miles but it keeps going back to the same address, a house in NE Calgary that was condemned as a grow-op in 2011 (thank you Google). Should I knock on the door?What would you do?
And the firestorm erupted! The comments came pouring in. Some worried, some hilarious. People began commenting on other peoples’ comments and I could not keep up! I tried to explain why “call the police” was not a viable option but it was tedious so I just said, read above! Way above!
I even found a friend who said she would go with me to look at the place but she couldn’t go until the next day. I grew more and more restless as I tracked the phone and saw the battery getting weaker and weaker. If I don’t go today, I may not be able to find it, I thought.
I called our son who works in the NE and told him the whole story and named the street where the phone was. That’s a rough part of town, he said. Just give me the house number and I will go after work.
NO WAY! I’m not going to put you in danger! You have a wife and two babies! I will go and you come along for back up. He agreed.
That’s when I posted: ok guys. I am going. i have backup. stay tuned…
As I left the house, Gerry drove up. Of course he wanted to come along so we headed into the city. We went to our son JP’s workplace and had a lovely tour–never been there before! We even looked at samples and decided to buy a new window blind!
While there Gerry’s phone rang. It was Anita, our daughter from Louisiana: WHAT’S GOING ON?! AUNTY LISA IS HAVING A CORONARY! ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? YOU CAN’T SAY YOU ARE GOING IN AND THEN LEAVE US HANGING FOR HOURS!
Oops. Sorry cyber friends. Occasionally our real life interrupts our cyber life.
I told her we weren’t even at the drug-den yet but we were on our way.
We all hopped in my car and off we went. Gerry was tracking my phone and it was not moving. We arrived on the street and it was a little down at the heels, as JP surmised. But the house where my phone supposedly was, was different. The lawn was deeper green, weedless and neatly mowed. The roof was newly shingled, the trim freshly painted, the siding bright.
Hmmm. Trying to put us off the scent eh?!
Gerry stayed in the car, watching for any movement on the phone tracking. JP and I went to the door. Large dogs woofed loudly inside. JP advised me to step back. We rang and rang and JP knocked loudly but no answer. So I left a note:
We turned to leave just as a neighbour walked out to her car. Do you know if your neighbour is at home? I asked her.
I don’t think so she replied because they usually park in front and their car is gone. She got in her car and left.
JP and I got back in my car and Gerry said, the phone is on the move! We skedaddled to the back lane to where we thought the phone napper had flown for a quick getaway when we came to the front door but discovered there was a car in the tiny driveway (no garage) and no room for another to park there.
Gerry said, the phone is still moving! We headed off in hot pursuit.
A text came in to Gerry’s cell with a photo of the note we left and this message: I don’t have your sweater or your phone. I hope you find it.
The phone has stopped moving! Gerry reported. It’s at the Beddington Centre!
Oh ya…back to the scene of the crime eh? Or maybe all the action on the street convinced you to bring it back!
We realized it must have been in the car of the next-door lady we talked to! She was driving a van, Gerry said.
After JP stopped laughing he said, no dad it was a red Corolla.
We hurried back to the community centre, parked and peeked into the window of the room where all the drama began. A theatre group was practising dance moves. Gerry walked around the parking lot pinging the phone and looking for a red Corolla.
I went in to the office…and there was my sweater, neatly folded on the desk. And the scarf. And the phone still in the pocket, untouched. The stage manager (next door lady) had cleaned up the props and leftover gear on Sunday, tossed it all in her trunk, none the wiser, intending to bring it all back on Tuesday for rehearsals. When she got to the Centre and was asked if she knew anything about a lost sweater and phone she checked her supplies and ta-da!
Much rejoicing! Went out for supper. Got home late. FB friends had to wait ’til the next day for the rest of the story.