I didn’t really expect to have content for this blog so soon after the first post, and yet here we are. I suppose life is indeed stranger than fiction.
Yesterday, I misplaced my wallet. This would have been fine, were it not for the fact that this was the second such occurrence in as many years. Given that I had had my first wallet for about eight years before losing it, this was a bit frustrating for me; one would think that I would be better at keeping such things in my possession1. I had also rented a car to drive my parents around town when they came by for Commencement; the reservation would have to be cancelled if I did not have my driver’s licence in my possession, and I would be forced to bear a pretty hefty fee for doing so.
As soon as I felt my pocket and realized that my wallet was gone, I felt my heart skip a beat. This nervousness was soon allayed by my recollection that I had purchased a Tile2 to keep track of the things I was most liable to lose, which now included my wallet after I’d lost the last one. Even if it wasn’t on my person, I would be able to find it. Or so I thought.
I calmly opened the app and pulled up the Tile for my wallet. Its last known location? University Center, at 6:11 pm. The time was past 8 pm; my phone had been unable to reach my wallet for the past two hours.
Well, fiddlesticks.
I immediately started walking in the direction of its last known location; Eric offered to bike ahead3 and attempt to see if he could establish a connection between my phone and my wallet. Once I’d gotten there on foot, I looked around, asking employees of storefronts where I could have left my wallet, and tried to locate someone who might be responsible for the lost and found there.
No dice.
At that point, I’d accepted that I would likely not find it again. I pulled up my banking app and reported the credit cards in my wallet lost, just in case. Slightly dejected from the whole affair, I skipped dinner, and tagged along with my friends only to make a minimal attempt at socialization.
Later that night as I got ready for bed, I started mentally retracing my path for the day. Perhaps owing to the fact that I had come to peace with the situation, the pieces of the metaphorical puzzle began falling into place, and I came to the realization that I could not possibly have left my wallet where its last reported location on Tile was.
You see, I had recalled a crucial detail: at some point before realizing I had lost my wallet, I had been fidgeting with it on the 6th floor patio of Donald Bren Hall (DBH). My friends and I went to DBH after having spent some time at University Center, but according to Tile I had left my wallet at University Center. By simple linearity of time, it is impossible for both of these propositions to be true.
I also recalled that my phone battery had been running low when we left for DBH. I have my phone set to enter Battery Saver once its battery drops below 20%; once Battery Saver is enabled, Tile can no longer ping nearby devices, meaning that it was no longer cognizant of any updates to its location. The last known location it reported was just that; the last location where it was able to reach my wallet, not where my wallet was actually located. I was now convinced that I had left it on the DBH patio.
Despite my excitement, I managed to fall asleep and wake up early the next day (today) to head to DBH, before someone else had the opportunity to pick it up and potentially turn it in to Lost and Found. Perhaps invigorated by the prospect of potentially finding my wallet, my average biking pace was about 25% faster than usual.
Sure enough, it was there, exactly where I’d left it with all items accounted for. The credit cards had of course already been disabled, and now I’d have to wait until their replacements arrived in the mail before I could use them again. But everything else I held dear that I carried in it was still there.
And in the end, that’s all that mattered.
This wouldn’t really be a good blog post without a reflection.
As alluded to by the description, this is a cautionary tale against excessive reliance on technology. It was my unwavering belief in the accuracy of the data presented by Tile that led me on a wild goose chase in the first place; I rejected the possibility that it could be wrong, and did not think of searching my immediate vicinity. In no way is this the fault of Tile; it is not some all-seeing deity, and in the absence of data it can only work with the data that it has.
Rather, in a way this is also a reflection of the risks of emotional decision-making. In my naïveté, I thought that this was something to which I would be immune, but perhaps the frustration from losing my wallet so soon after the last time I lost my wallet had caused this to be more of a factor. As a consequence, my credit card issuer would now have to print and mail new credit cards, with all the personal and environmental effects that the process entailed.
Ultimately, humans are both emotional and logical creatures, and it would be absurd to expect one or the other to be wholly absent from one’s decisions.