Friday, March 31, 2006

Rot in hell, douchebag.

Yesterday I had my wallet stolen. It wa largely my own stupid fault as I'd left my bag open. I don't usually read on the tram but I'd come all the way from the physio in Caulfield (which is an entirely different story) so I'd had my little nose buried in Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential (great book, makes my job look like child's play). I was so engrossed in the coke snorting, ecuadorian line cook poaching, demi glaceing antics of Bourdain and his cohorts that I nearly missed my stop, so I jumped up, stashed my book, checked that my wallet was there, and jumped off, leaving my bag open in my rush.

It was about 10 metres from the tram stop to the shop I was going into, and I'm guessing that in that 10 metres, my wallet went AWOL. I didn't even realise that it was gone until I went to pay at the cash register. At first I didn't bat an eyelid, thinking maybe it'd slipped into a hole in the lining (which has happened before). However when I turned the whole bag inside out and it wasn't there or in the changeroom, mild panic set in. Had I left it on the tram? Nope. I'd checked that it was there as I got off. Trying to remain calm, I set off for the cop shop on Flinders Lane. As I was walking down Swanston St, it gradually dawned on me what had actually been stolen. The realisation of each newly missing item was like a punch in the gut. Licence. Bam! Student ID. Bam! Concession card. Bam! Debit Card. Bam! CREDIT CARD. BAM!

Needless to say, by the time I arrived at the police station, I was nearly in tears, sweating, practically reeling, punch-drunk. 'You absolute fucking braindead IDIOT! How could you lose so much shit!' was the train of thought I was maintaining as my stress leveles completely maxed out. I'm not a drugs kind of person (as you all know very well), but if someone had offered me a joint I would've smoked the whole thing in one drag. I was freaking.

So my first visit to a police station wasn't exactly grand. I waited for ages before someone came to see me, then I had to wait for an officer to come and help me, so more waiting. There was a woman from Perth who'd also had her purse stolen on Swanston St. My mum turned up and I'm a little embarrassed to say I had a tiny bit of a cry because I was so fucking screwed. After a while some officer dude came to help me and I had to call and cancel all my cards and shit, which took a while. Some Indian guy with a terrible fake American accent palmed me off to some Indian guy with a terrible Australian accent, who clacked away on keyboards and ummed and ahhed before cancelling my credit card. Props to the Comm bank though who were efficient and helpful. Apparently the officer dude who helped me was good looking (my mum said that), but I don't think I would've noticed if it were the fucking queen, as I had slightly more important things on my mind.

Anyway after an hour in the station I decided to head home, where a message was waiting for me - my wallet had been found! Whoever stole it took all the cash and then went to a handbag shop up the street and hid it in one of the handbags. The staff in the shop found it, went through it, found my gym card and called my gym, who called me. So it was straight back to the city to reclaim my now cashless wallet and then I went back to the police station to tell officer dude what happened. At least he now believed that it'd been stolen and I hadn't just dropped it. Fortunately my cards were in there (although I'd already cancelled them), unfortunately the cash is long gone. $35 might not sound like much but it's 3 hour's pay.

So yes. So much stress I could've done without. To the douchebag who stole my wallet: rot in hell, my friend.


Oh yeah, the physio. I got elbowed in the shoulder at work and 'corked' a shoulder muscle. So not only did I get sent home from work because I couldn't move, I had to go and get it taped up. So now I look like footballer, I can't move my arm and the tape is really really fucking itchy.

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