Ms. Goody Two-Shoes

For the second time in my lifetime so far, I've encountered somebody's lost ID and gotten it back to them. The first time it happened was years ago, when identity theft wasn't a big concern. In today's world, though, the saying "He who steals my purse steals trash" is not as accurate as it used to be. Losing wallet, purse, etc. quickly sends us into a panic and a flurry of activity, notifying credit card companies, replacing IDs, contacting the police, possibly changing locks. For one fellow female today, though, the steps stopped abruptly at panic.

I was driving along a road that runs behind several stores and malls when I saw this small case almost at the side of the road. I was thinking somebody's eyeglass case until I got closer and realized it was too large for eyeglasses unless they were Elton John's glasses from the 1980s. I pulled over and went back to pick it up. It had a little heft to it, indicating it had more than just papers. When I opened it up, I saw a flash of some kind of ID and a cell phone. I didn't bother looking further. I zipped it back up and took it to the local police. Same process as last time. Also the same as last time, they took down where I found it, my name and phone number (I actually gave the dispatcher my license -- saved her from having to ask how to spell my last name that most manage to spell wrong, anyway). After that, I went about my shopping business and went home.

While in the first found ID episode, I knew the person's name because my friend and I had to gather scattered pocketbook contents from a busy stretch of street, I didn't know who the owner of the purse was this time. I wasn't looking to find out who the person was. I didn't look because it didn't matter. What mattered was getting it back to the owner ASAP. I didn't even expect to hear from anyone after that, as I didn't the first time around. But, I did this time. The owner left me a voicemail saying she wanted to thank me. Wasn't necessary, but I called her back. After thanking me again, she asked if I had seen the purse fall off the car. I said no, that I just found it, but she confirmed what I already suspected. I mean, even in the three seconds I looked in the purse, it appeared everything was intact. What are the chances that a thief is going to be so kind as to leave everything in place and drop it alongside a well-traveled bit of road? No, this smacked of leaving it on top of the car and forgetting it was there. Been there, done that, got the head-thunk moment (imagine my embarassment and gratefulness to the stranger who got out of his car at the red light and handed me my pocketbook from atop my VW those 25+ years ago).

My grateful purse owner of today wanted to send me something for my actions, but I turned it down, telling her to go do something nice for someone else. Yes, I turned down a reward for my good deed. From Donald Trump, I probably wouldn't turn it down (mercenary moment -- sue me). But on this Labor Day weekend, for a found purse that likely belonged to a working class woman like myself, I would only want her to continue to have a nice day. Hopefully within a fairly short time of the "Oh, my God, where's my purse?" realization, she did.

And this Goody Two-Shoes will sleep well in the knowledge that the universe, once again, put me in the right place at the right time and I did the right thing with it. A proper payback for that nice man's actions all those years ago.