The Loss of My Phone's Innocence

While at Target today picking up toilet paper and paper towels (like one does on the busiest shopping weekend of the year), I left my phone at the register.  Wade (the hero of our story) called my phone but alas, it went straight to voicemail, and therefore I determined that it was stolen. I ran back and asked the cashier if she saw it, and the young couple at the register said "we gave it to a dark lady in a black shirt with a female friend in a striped shirt, she said it was hers." I suspected that the male part of the young couple was somehow in cahoots, because he was being kind of a jerk.

Meanwhile, Wade was in the parking lot yelling "did anyone find a phone?!" He used Find My Friends and my little blinking face icon was tracked to the Sears parking lot, meaning the phone was turned back on so it was a) possibly not stolen or b) someone realized it was an iPhone 4 and not worth the hassle.  I was getting VERY DRAMATIC in Target (so that the dude I suspected of cahoot-ing would tell his cahoot-ers that they took the phone of a crazy person who was obviously not going to give up) and was about to go look at security tape even though having a picture of the person who took my phone would give about a .00001% probability of the chance of me ever again seeing my actual phone.

Wade called my phone again and someone picked up! It was a dude, and therefore neither a dark lady in a black shirt nor her striped female friend.  The guy said he was at Sears and oh, whoops, he took my phone, he thought it was his wife's.  I told the nice sir at Target who was gathering the "troops" (one security guard and whoever's in charge of the surveillance tape, as well as something called "TPS") that we were off to Sears, where we were handed my phone by a guy who apparently thinks if he finds someone's phone he should probably smash the back of it before he gives it back.  Wade thinks the ultimate torture was not the smashing of the phone, but that it had to go to Sears.

There is no moral, except that I should stop leaving my shit everywhere, but we all already knew that.  Fin.