Lost Not Found…

As part of my highly specialized and important position, one of the duties I’m saddled with is performing oversight of a 750 seat auditorium. It’s like being on the event staff at a concert hall that never puts on an event more interesting than the 100-meter snooze or a Gregorian chant marathon.

In addition to approving reservations for such entertaining acts as Mr. Smith’s Retirement Ceremony and calling in service orders when the crack in the foundation starts leaking (again), about once a week I get to field calls from panic stricken people who have left something behind in my beautiful facility. We’ve turned up everything from briefcases, to iPads, to an entire box of key chains. More often, though, it’s a call about a cell phone or eyeglasses.

Today’s call, routed through a third party to me, inquired about a trifecta of loss – cell phone, ID card, and passport. I rolled my eyes and explained that no, no one had turned anything in matching that description. Knowing full well that the chances of any of these items being there were slim to none, I still schlepped down, unlocked the building, and poked around “where the guy thinks he might have lost them.”

Aside from a stray dime, my exhaustive search turned up nothing at all. The only thing it did accomplish is to set me thinking on what kind of human being goes the 40 miles between here and Baltimore without once realizing (or attempting to look at) his cell phone? Allowing that amount of time to elapse between checking in on the latest Tweets, posts, or headlines is just unnatural. Probably some kind of damned terrorist.

Beware of dogs…

A quarter mile from house I stopped this afternoon to help a guy pull two dogs off his collie. I could tell just rolling up on it that his pup was getting worked over and he either had the good sense or lacked the stones to do more than yell and flail his arms like a eight year old girl. Of course my critique of him isn’t the point.

41tUNV0ZVdLI saw one of those two loose dogs yesterday afternoon running the neighborhood. What I didn’t see yesterday was the foot of broken cord on her collar, telling me that she wasn’t just a dump and run, but she is probably from somewhere relatively local. Fortunately, she was docile and let me chase her off without putting up a fight. The male was more aggressive. He had the collie pinned and tried turning on me as soon as I got my hands on his collar. Now I didn’t have any intention of getting bit myself and God knows I wasn’t going to let go, but I’m not proud of saying I rang his bell with a size twelve Doc Marten under the chin. Wild as he was, I still feel bad about that. At least it stunned him long enough to reconsider his options. He backed off and let the guy to retrieve his dog.

It was obvious from the look of them that they belong to someone. They weren’t thin, but from the look of things, the female of the pair had a litter waiting for her somewhere. She was bold enough to come over for a nuzzle, but wouldn’t let me get close enough to wrangle her before running off. I hope these two find their way home sooner rather than later. I don’t really know what else is to be done, but I’ll give animal control a call tomorrow during business hours so maybe they’ll stand a chance of getting picked up rather than flattened.

With all that said, I think everyone reading this knows I’m as big an animal lover as you’re likely to find. I love furry critters far more than I love people. I don’t blame them for being loose or aggressive. I blame the owner – the asshat who obviously left at least one strong 50-pound dog tied out at the end of a piece of cheap paracord. I hope those two find their way home even if that’s to people who don’t deserve them, because if they make it to this side of the hill and try to tangle up with either of the two that live here, I won’t be anywhere near as dainty as the guy with the collie.

Lost in the machine…

I had a fairly hearty post written up for tonight, but at the moment it is lost somewhere in the machine. I swear this isn’t the blogger’s equivalent of “the dog ate my homework.” I really did have a post and now it’s really, really vanished somewhere between WordPress, my laptop, and the vastness of the world wide web. I’m sure it will turn up somewhere sooner or later. I’m going to do a restart and see of anything jars loose. Thinks have been ever so slightly buggy since I installed Lion, so I’m hoping a restart fixes whatever glitch I’m having.

In the meantime, here’s a great read from a Freshly Pressed blogger railing against “The Lack of Holidays in August.” Head over there and give him a like, ok?

Hey new guy…

I’d like to say that the transition between career fields is more or less seamless, but I was struck today by the first inklings of the magnitude of the my current unknown unknowns… like how to print to the color printer. Yeah, I had to answer the one request the boss had of me today with “uhhhh… yeah… I don’t think I can do that… sir.” Sure, it’s not exactly a career breaking moment, but still, it was humbling enough to be brought low by office automation. And don’t get me started on the acronyms. I’m keeping a running list of the damned things to look up feverishly when I get back to my desk. It looks like I’m in flat out fake-it-till-you-make-it mode for the foreseeable future. I’ve been here before, though and vaguely remember that this part of the transition doesn’t last too long. Someday soon, I’ll even be the one spitting out unreasonably pronounced acronyms at the newcomer. Until then, it helps to be reminded that even the most humbling day here are better than being an allstar in the court of the walrus king. Such are the restorative effects of being on home soil.

Lost, Damaged, or Destroyed…

After one of the longest four-day weeks in recent memory, I managed to get away from work nearly on time. I pounded out a txt on my way to the parking lot, put my bag on top of the truck bed cover, sat my phone down beside it, and tossed my coat in the back seat because I hate driving with my coat on. The bag is tossed in next, I settle in to the driver’s seat and I’m off to start a week and a half of vacation time.

You might have noticed that I didn’t mention picking my phone up. Well that’s because I apparently didn’t. Of course I didn’t know this as I pulled out of the parking lot, drive through the gate, and made best possible speed for the house. I only realized this ten minutes later when I reached down to grab it off my belt clip. There was the clip sure enough, but the phone was ominously missing. I reach behind me, thinking it probably had just popped out of the clip or maybe slid between the seat and center console. No dice there. Not paniced yet, I pulled my coat over the seat and rummaged through the pockets. Sill no phone. It wasn’t in its usual spot on the center console either. This is where the dread starts setting in. I pull to the shoulder, check under the seats, check my coat again, and actually check every place a phone could possibly end up. It, of course, was in none of these places.

So now I backtrack to the office. No one has turned in anything to the gate guard and it’s not lying in or near the parking lot. It’s not lying anywhere inside the fenceline for that matter. I scouted that area pretty well. It’s not outside the gate where I would have made my first quick acceleration. It’s not at the exit where I turned onto the highway. By now it has begun dawning on me that I’m not likely to find it. In a shower of curses not often heard from me, I admitted defeat and accepted that my phone was lost, damaged, or destroyed.

So yes, my pretty and still relatively new 16 gig iPhone is now officially listed as missing in action. I only hope that flying off the back of a fast moving truck damaged it beyond repair because the thought of some schlep using my phone as a high powered iPod makes me crazy at the moment.

I’ve switched over to a back up phone and my number still works, so all told I was off the grid for about three hours. Three absolutely terrifying hours.