Losing your wallet

I spent the weekend in Chicago at a bachelor party for my friend, Marc, and I didn’t just lose my wallet – I had it stolen from me. But nonetheless, it’s gone.

It’s a good thing our phones are the incredible tools that they are, allowing us to remain connected to all sorts of things in a myriad of ways, from being able to send money to your friends in an instant, to tracking the path of the next solar eclipse seven years from now. So if/when you do manage to lose your wallet, but you still have your phone, then you’re in some luck.

Though, it should still be said: when you lose your wallet, you both literally and figuratively lose your identity. It means no ID, no insurance cards, no credit cards, no spare cash, no spare change, no rewards cards, no saved notes, no cherished photos… the list goes on. And when you’re finally able to find some time to replace everything you’ve lost, it takes forever. Waiting in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles, you’re surrounded by a gaggle of numbskulls who assume they know how to do a better job of working for state government than the special kind of person it takes to actually work for state government. Then you have to call your insurance companies and request that they resend you everything. Same with your bank: “Cancel all my cards, put a hold on all my accounts, and overnight me some new CCs via raven. Please and thank you.”

I had my wallet stolen this weekend (and my phone, if we’re being honest), and I felt like the puppy who lost its way. I had to rely on everyone I was with to pay for everything I did, while hoping I was going to be able to get everywhere without being asked for identification. I’m still waiting on all my new cards to show up in my mailbox, and I’ve had to busk on the streets for the pocket change of passers-by. Just kidding – I couldn’t strum my way out of a paper bag.

Photo found on Burst

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