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Tuesday, February 22, 2011

One of Those Great Stories

A number of years ago when I was working in a children's clothing store in Jerusalem's Center 1 my pocketbook was stolen.  That morning I had gotten to work when the store was already open.  There was a lot of business, and I guess I put my bag down and began dealing with the customers.  When things quieted down, I went for my bag, and it was gone.  Yes, obviously someone had stolen it.  I had keys to the store and home and my wallet and money and Identity Card, etc.

I just couldn't deal with it.  That wasn't the first time for me.

Only a few months after a neighbor had been murdered, when I was in a store I must have put down my wallet, which had all sorts of identification, and I never found it.  That time I don't think I went to the police.  I just got a new Identity Card. 

I couldn't go through all that a second time. But since it happened at work, I reported it to the police and had a special document attesting to the fact that my ID was stolen to get another.  But I just kept on procrastinating.

Months later all of a sudden one day I got a postcard from the Lost & Found of the Tel Aviv Bus Station that something of mine had been found.  So, I went to Tel Aviv, found the Lost & Found and discovered that only the cash, bills, had been taken.  My Identity Card was still there, even a heavy bag of coins, which added up to a nice amount of money. 

Apparently, there was a drug addict stealing bags from workers in Center 1, because not long after, my co-worker's bag was stolen out of the closed closet she had carefully put it in.  And then the pocketbook of the woman in the store across from us was stolen.  Both of them had many more irreplaceable things in their bags than I had.  I was the only one to get my bag back.

This story from the New York Times is much, much better than mine.

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