TIFU by making a phone call

This actually happened about 30 years ago, back in the dark ages when people didn’t own mobile phones. I know, primitive, right?

Now, for any millennials out there who have ever wondered what those strange glass boxes are they see from time to time by the side of the street, they are a remnant from this prehistoric age, known as telephone boxes or phone booths for the American readers out there. Basically they were the closest thing we had to mobile telecommunications back in the day, as they were the only way to make phone calls whilst out and about.

So with this education for the younger generation out of the way, onto the story. I lived in a house that didn’t have a phone, so the only way I could make a phone call was to go out and use one of these mythical phone boxes, and on this occasion that’s exactly what I did. I can’t remember who I called, probably my brother or a family member but the identity of the recipient of my call isn’t relevant to the story. So I pop off to the phone box, make my call, plough in the change required to get connected and, once complete hang up and head back home. No problems, all pretty straight forward. So where’s the fuck up you may ask? Well, I didn’t discover that until later in the day.

At this time, my job paid my wage weekly and in cash, in a small square envelope. Once I received my wages, I would put my bank card in the envelope to keep my financial bits together in one easy to manage place. The first sign that I may have fucked up came when I couldn’t find my pay packet. I rummaged through my coat pockets and searched through my trouser pockets with no sign of my hard earned salary. Similarly, a search of my room was just as fruitless. As panic started to settle in, I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at the situation logically and retrace my steps in my mind.

Once I’d calmed my nerves and managed to cast my mind back, I recalled entering the phone box, taking out my wage packet to extract the change needed to make the call and place the envelope on the shelf above the phone. I then had no recollection of picking the envelope up once the call was finished. This was the moment I realised I had fucked up and left an entire week’s wages as well as my bank cards discarded in a public phone box. In a panic I rushed out the house, racing down the street and yanking open the door of the phone box to find myself staring at an empty shelf. In my mind’s eye, I could clearly see the small brown envelope of riches sitting on the shelf exactly where I left it, but my actual eyes saw nothing. Just a blank space. My money was gone, and some caller who came in after me had hit the jackpot.

Despondent, I left the phone box and started wondering home, cursing my stupidity and absent mindedness, wracking my brain for any way I could resolve the situation and reverse the calamity I had brought on myself. Deciding not to leave any stone unturned, I thought I should check in at the local police station, just in case, even though I was sure that whoever had found my wages would probably be already planning a big night out to celebrate their unexpected windfall but hey, I might as well confirm that I’d lost it all, right?

You can imagine then, my surprise and delight when my enquiry at the reception desk was met with a ‘wait a minute’ as the officer rummaged around the lost property before producing a familiar brown envelope. After several questions about my identity confirmed that I was the same person whose name was on the bank cards, the envelope was returned to me, complete with the entire contents.

I don’t who my good Samaritan was, who found my pay packet and handed it in but I will always be grateful to them. Not only did they return an entire week’s wages to me but they gave me a renewed faith in humanity, a precious commodity that can be thin on the ground sometimes.

Whoever you are, thank you. It’s been 30 years and, although I don’t know you, I’ve never forgotten you.

TLDR. I made a phone call in a public call box and left a whole week’s wages behind, which had vanished by the time I returned for it. Lucky for me, there are some decent people in the world and it was handed in at the police station and returned to me.