While I was working at Anonymous Big Deal Restaurant, I found a cell phone in the banquette during my end of the night inspection of the room one evening. It was too late to call the number listed as “home,” and the following day we were closed so I tucked the phone into my briefcase determined to find the owner in the morning.
I have made many of these calls in efforts to return phones that have gone astray; almost invariably the person on the other end is a bit bewildered before they understand that I am not trying to sell them something. The woman that answered the phone spoke very little English but eventually she passed the receiver to “Mrs. Smith.” I explained that I was the General Manager of ABDR and found this phone last night. She was extremely grateful, and indicated that it belonged to her husband who was away on business.
“I would be happy to send the phone to his hotel. Where in DC is your husband staying?”
Awkward silence.
“You’re in DC, not Chicago?” she asked, barely masking the growing anger in her voice.
Recognizing I had just put her husband in the jackpot and that there was nothing I could do about it, I attempted to be merely the dispassionate observer. “Yes, ma’am, we are located in downtown Washington, DC. Where would you like me to send the phone?”
“Ship it to my house; and address the package to me, please.”
Posted by restaurant refugee 
