I'm okay

...even though someone has decided to hold my phone hostage. Grrrr.

The story goes as follows.

Colin and I are trying to find a place for him to move into at the beginning of June. One woman and I have been calling and emailing back and forth for about a week and a half now, trying to coordinate a time when she can show us her condo.

At lunch today, I decide to check my messages--just to make sure that tonight is finally the night that we can go check out her place.
Lo and behold, my phone is not in its usual spot, which is the side pocket of my backpack. The outside pocket of my backpack. Where it might have easily fallen out.
"But then again," I optimistically think, "I may have just left it in my car at the Park'n Ride."

I decide to call my phone and listen to my voicemail.

But when I call, someone answers. Sort of. At first, all I hear is talking in the background, "What do I do? What, man?"

"Hello?" I say.

"Mumble, mumble, [incoherent things being said]," and it sounds like they're outdoors.

"Hello?" I repeat.

"Hello," replies a voice.

"Hey, there; this is my phone," I say.

"Oh yeah? Well how much do you want for it?"

"What? Where are you?" I ask.

"Well, where are you?" comes the reply. By now it sounds like the voice of a young-to-middle-aged African American man. I see a lot of men working construction at the hospital everyday. Maybe one of them found my phone and picked it up for me.

"I'm at work. At the hospital," I reply.

"Well, let's talk money," I hear him say.

"ExCUSE me?" I'm incredulous. "This is my phone!!" I tell him. For some reason, I feel like repeating this information is a reasonable argument. Don't ask me why I think that.

"Yep, and I know where you are, but you don't know where I am," he says. "How about ten?"

"What??!" I still can't believe what I'm hearing.

"Ten bucks, you'll get your phone back."

"No way."

"Well, then you can't get your phone," he says.

"I'll just disconnect it, then," I tell him.

"Okay! I guess you can hang up now."

So I hang up. Disgusted. And I immediately call Colin and ask him to disconnect my phone. Then I ask him to call my mom at work and tell her I've not been kidnapped (because I can only imagine what the guy might have said to her if she decided to call me today). Then I email the lady we're going to meet this evening, and give her Colin's number to confirm our appointment.

Then I kick myself for not doing any number of other things in order to get my phone back from the jerk. I mean, we have Hospital Police here. They could be there when I "meet" the guy to retrieve my phone from him. But Colin doesn't want me to re-negotiate with him.

My phone was being stupid anyway.

But it has all my phone numbers on it.

So if you get a chance, send me an email with your phone number. Cause unless you're living at my parent's house, I don't know it by heart.

Bottom line, though, is I'm okay. Even though you can't reach me by phone anymore. Grrrr.