By popular demand, although I promise the story isn't nearly as interesting as you would think.
On Friday night, we went to Happy Hour with three friends to tell them we were pregnant. Now, before you all freak out on me, the bar we went to had a large non-smoking section and I drank Sprite. We got home at around 8:00, ordered a pizza, and I went upstairs to change. When I went to take off the bracelet my parents had given me for my 30th birthday it was gone. Lost.
We tore the house apart. I went through the clothes I was wearing, my coat, my gloves. We checked the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, closets and stairs. I went through the trash. We checked my car, we looked outside the house, on the porch, on the sidewalk. Then we checked all those places again. It wasn't there.
I called the bar. It hadn't been turned in. They wouldn't go look for me. I headed back to the bar with two flashlights and barely contained hysteria. Yes, it was just a thing and I don't generally care that much about things, but this was a gift on a special occasion and also happened to be very expensive. I knew it was hopeless, but I had to look. I got back to the bar and searched the parking lot with a flashlight in each hand. Did I mention it was 4 degrees? No luck in the parking lot, so I went back into the bar. I asked at the front, no luck, so I went in to look. The non-smoking section was now full of smoke and dark and I scoured the floor trying not to breathe. I saw something! No, just a part of a cellophane cigarette wrapper.
I finally got to the back near where we had been sitting and was headed toward our table when a guy spoke to me. He said "are you looking for something?" Now, maybe it was the way he said it or maybe it was just my generally uncharitable nature, but my first thought was "Great. On top of everything else, now I have this loser trying to pick me up." I debated for a second then said yes, I had lost a bracelet. He said "Oh, it's over here." I was floored. I was amazed. At that moment, I loved this man more than I have ever loved a total stranger in my entire life. Even more than firemen. I followed him over to a table and there was my bracelet, just sitting there. He asked the woman at the table if it was her bracelet, and she said no, that they had found it and didn't know who's it was. She looked at me and asked if it was mine. I said yes and started thanking her.
Then my hero, the guy who had saved me, who had shown me where to find my bracelet, grabbed the bracelet off the table and asked me to describe it. Ok, now I just saw it sitting on the table, so this isn't a very good test, now is it? But I played along; I described the bracelet, thin, white gold and diamonds. He gave me a skeptical look and squinted at my bracelet now cupped in his hand. Fine. I elaborated. It is white gold but it has yellow gold around the diamonds and the clasp doesn't work and the safety catch is too loose so it doesn't work either. It's entirely too dark in the bar to see any details, but he did me a favor, so I was humoring him. The woman at the table was getting annoyed and told him to give me my bracelet. He said he wasn't sure it was really mine, because obviously there were a lot of diamond bracelets just lying around so he wanted to make sure I got the right one. Finally I got fed up and just kicked him as hard as I could in the nads and took my bracelet and ran. Ok, not really. It took at least five minutes of me asking for it and the woman at the table demanding he give it to me before he finally turned over my bracelet.
Then he told me I should by him a drink to thank him. I bought the woman at the table a drink, took my bracelet and left.
Writing this up it seems less unbelievably rude than it seemed at the time, so maybe you had to be there. Or maybe you had to be there and up past your bedtime and dinnerless and standing in a smoky room worrying that you were doing irreparable harm to your unborn child, but believe me, that guy really deserved a swift kick.