So, I called the restaurant back. And the woman who answered the phone tried to claim that they had never found my phone. To which I responded, “oh hellllls no” (ok, it was more like, “that’s not what they told me when I called before”) and then I asked for a manager.
Who told me that they “literally tore the restaurant apart looking for the phone” and then couldn’t say anything that was even remotely productive. His basic attitude was “what do you want me to do about it?” When I told him that I was going to report it as stolen, he said that sounded like a fine idea, but “I have no idea why someone would want to steal your phone.”
Well, either your people got bored and shoved it down a garbage disposal, or someone stole it. Because, if you “literally tore apart the restaurant” and it’s not there, then someone must have done something with it. I mean, those iPhones are pretty darn clever, but they’re not smart enough to walk away on their own… yet.
So far I have:
- Called up AT&T and put a hold onto my account
- Envisioned all of the horrible things that I would like to do to whoever took my phone
- Complained about my situation to anyone who would listen to me whine
- Call up AT&T and give them my serial number and tell them to not let anyone activate it.
- Figure out how to get in contact with the executives at Piccadilly Pub so that I can yell at them. I have their names. I just need some contact information.
- Call the North Reading Police and file a police report.
That sense of violation is the worst part of having something of yours go missing (whether stolen or otherwise). It’s so hard to get over – I was angry at Cleo as a whole for years when my first digital camera disappeared from my bag. I’m sorry about your phone – maybe work will spring for the 3G?
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