The Telling Wallet

This morning was rather surreal.

After catching an early lift, and I mean really early, 5.15am early, with my dad to Fulham Broadway, after a relaxing Easter weekend in the Cotswolds, I drew some money, purchased a travel card and bordered the train bound for Wimbledon. Suitcases and all.

A half hour train journey and a 5 minute bus ride later I was home. Quickly on to my laptop to prepare for a morning meeting. First was the customary read of the latest blog posts on Afrigator though. The first post I stumbled upon was by Ideate, entitled “The Telling Wallet“. Below was the imagery displayed. Very hard to miss.

The Telling Wallet

The post was all about what message a messy, bulky wallet sends to prospective clients when meeting them for the first time. Quite interesting. Quite true.

After reading the post I continued to read a few others before deciding it was time to work. Alas, an online payment was due. I felt my pockets for my wallet. It was not there. I scanned the room for it. It could not be seen. I searched my suitcase. I started to panic. I started to sweat. My life was in that wallet.

I re-tracked my movements around the flat. No luck. I re-tracked my movements to the bus stop. Still no luck. I went back inside and looked at my computer screen again. “The telling wallet” was on the screen.

What are the chances. This must be a sign. It was the first web image I saw this morning. My wallet was gone. Forever.

I began the pain staking task of holding for a Standard Bank operator to cancel my credit card. 25 minutes later it was done. Then I thought I’d give it one last chance and try re-trace my route back to Fulham Broadway.

I got on the 131 bus. I got off outside Sainsburys. I asked at Sainsburys if anyone had seen my wallet. I walked to Wimbledon station. I asked at the info desk about my wallet. I asked the platform supervisor. I asked the ticket sales officer. I reported my wallet missing to the Lost property department. You get the point. I asked a lot of people. I was bleak.

Finally I asked the underground supervisor, who phoned the Fulham underground supervisor. “Is this the South African Mark Forrester who recently traveled to the Heineken museum in Amsterdam?” I was asked. “Hell yeah it is”.

40 minutes later at Fulham Broadway station I was reunited with my long lost friend, and the 28 pounds, and the 5 euro, and all my credit cards.

Messy Wallet

My fat, messy, scrappy, wallet can tell people whatever it wants. I love it to pieces.

P.S. I expect a comment along the lines of “This would never happen in South Africa”. Not true. It has happened to me back home before back. And I was reunited with it, with all the money still inside. Even though I was about 500kms away when I discovered it was missing. My wallet loves me.

P.P.S. I’m not a scatterbrain. Ok except maybe when I’m sleep deprived. 🙂

P.P.P.S Am i really REALLY lucky, or is this divine intervention?

12 thoughts on “The Telling Wallet”

  1. Sheesh. That is indeed lucky. I’d rather however believe it’s good karma… Lucky things happen to good people. Never met you though, so I don’t know if this is applicable in this case 🙂

  2. ok no. 1 this wouldn’t happen in SA. know why? you’d be shot for it rather than lose it somewhere. moving along swiftly before i piss everybody off (which i seem to be doing rather well of late). No. 2 that was definitely divine intervention. Luck would have been finding a Lifetime Gate Pass to the Playboy Mansion tucked inside. Have you checked??

  3. LOL @ Granny Wrangler. The Lifetime Gate Pass to the Playboy Mansion almost seems like that golden ticket thingy in Charlie & the chocolate factory…

  4. Adii: I’m a good person 😉

    GW: No comment on the shooting remark, remember I’m always PC 🙂

    I’ve searched the wallet high and low unfortunately I cannot find a lifetime gate pass to the Playboy mansion 🙁 It must be divine intervention.

    Shane: Haha. It is sort of like carrying my very own Os du Randt in my pocket. He protects me.

  5. Mark,
    “5.15am” early? Hehehe…
    I leave for work at 4:50am every morning …
    They say that hamsters live longer if they sleep more – so maybe I should look at hamsters and learn. 😉

  6. 4.50am! You as bad as my old man.

    I always thought you had an office job, now I’m starting to think your a boer!

    I’m definitely not a morning person.

  7. What a story Mark! The fairies are CERTAINLY on your side. Lucky Fish!!!
    (PS as far as I can tell, only South Africans call themselves fish. No-one I have used it on in the States or Europe has ever understood what I meant. Wonder where we got that from? No matter, you’re a very lucky fish)

  8. Daedalus: Ouch don’t envy you and the joburg traffic. Sometimes I find a bit of traffic between my bed and my desk. A pile of clothes, a book, you never know what you might find, but I like it that way. Living on the edge.

    Hollywoodgal: I am a lucky fish. I tried Googling it but alas no explanation. There are a few Asian links talking of lucky fish though, and I found a feng shui lucky fish bracelet…

  9. I was sitting in Hyde Park writing some postcards and listening to the R.E.M. concert happening a few meters away. Somehow I left my wallet behind when I went back to my flat. The next day, having realised my wallet was missing, I retraced my steps, but no luck. About a week after I arrived back in SA, I received a package in the mail containing – surprise! – the wallet. I was pretty impressed. But then again, I would have done the same.

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