I was traveling light. It was just my carry-on bag and my briefcase. I got off the plane and headed toward the subway to make my way downtown. I made one stop on the way. I was trying to document the directions to share with others and got to a particularly tricky part of the process. I sat down on the train platform to type in the details. My train arrived and I got on the train while still attempting to clearly communicate.
Once I finished that task, I then responded to two other text messages. Then I decided to open up my laptop and do some work because the journey was going to take nearly an hour. I reached for my briefcase and realized that it was gone. I had just sat it down beside me. I stood up, sure it had slipped under the seat. Nope. People asked me what I had lost. I told them. They shook their heads in pity. It had been stolen. Someone had slipped next to me, grabbed the bag, and then gotten off the train.
I quickly consulted my phone. It has a function that allows me to see my other registered products. As I opened it up, we got to the next station. Should I stay on or get off? I decided to stay on the train. Maybe the thief was still on the train but in a different car. The doors closed and we slid out on the tracks. That is when I could tell that the briefcase was back at the airport. It was just sitting there. I must have left it in the men’s room.
It felt like an hour until the train stopped at the next station. I got off and then immediately got back on a different train and headed back to the airport. I kept watching my screen. The briefcase did not move. A century later the train arrived. I ran off the train and back to the airport. I went straight to the bathroom. Nothing. I went to the policeman. Nothing. I went to lost and found. Nothing. I consulted my phone. The little logo that I was following was not at the airport. It had never been at the airport. It was in the train station. I ran back again.
It looked like it was in front of the building so I started to search. I looked in the bushes. Maybe the thief got stuff out of it and then dumped the bag. I searched the trash can, but still nothing. I went to the train ticket attendant. She said no one had turned anything into her. I showed her the image on my phone. “It says it's right here!”
She was frustrated with me, but got up and listened to me again. She told me to stay put. In a few minutes, she came back and escorted me into a secure area. She pointed me to an empty window. A man walked up. What have you lost? I started with the whole story. I concluded, “I think it must have been stolen.”
“What was in it?” he asked.
“My laptop and my iPad.”
“What flavor Gatorade?”
“Orange!”
He went back and retrieved it.
“The janitor found it lying on a bench on the train platform.”
I had decided that it was a bad story about others, but it was a story about me. Be careful with blame. It probably says more about you than others.