There’s nothing quite like scrambling to find the unattainable, seeking the invisible. Depending on how vital the object is to our well being, we may just decide that the effort spent searching is too costly for our consideration, so we sit out the quest and chalk up our losses.
Other times, like when I lost my keys Monday morning, it becomes apparent that no matter how remote the chance of success, the cost of failure is too high to give up trying.
Like many of yours, my keychain carries office keys. If I couldn’t find my keys, it would mean that we would have to change all of our locks and assign new keys for everyone here to be safe. This is probably not the best way to win a company popularity contest or the annual “Least Costly Employee” award.
Of course, I was already off to a shining start Monday morning. I set my alarm for 7:30 so I could go run before work, but that idea suddenly seemed less appealing than it did Sunday night when I was just a naive kid, full of unrealistic expectations. I hit the snooze button and collapsed back into bed.
When I finally made it back up, I was in a lethargic mood. While an invigorating morning jog would have boosted my alertness and energy for the remainder of the day, the difference between 10 1/2 and 11 hours of sleep turned out to be pretty insignificant, though I still think “oversleeping” is a myth.
I had my coffee made and was ready to leave when I reached in my coat pocket and felt emptiness where keys should have been. I checked the bathroom floor. I checked the living room floor, my bedroom floor, my computer desk, the kitchen floor, counter tops, cabinets, every pair of pants I wore over the past week, and every jacket I own.
No keys. I remembered that on Sunday, while on the phone with my step dad, I went to my car to grab a water bottle, and I thought I heard something drop on the way back to my apartment.
I grabbed my spare car keys and checked my car and the surrounding area. No keys. I bet somebody from the neighborhood took them to spite me.
After securing a spare apartment key from my next-door neighbor, I proceeded to work in a foul mood.
Joey Haas greeted me on arrival. “How are you, buddy?” he asked with his typical chipper tone.
“Good. I’d be better if I knew where my keys were,” I answered.
“Did you check in the freezer? I lost my keys in there one time,” he suggested.
“The freezer? Is that really the best you can do?” I thought, but I was desperate. I headed back to my apartment to check the freezer and grab a couple of prized possessions in case the keysnatcher was waiting for me to go to work, as my optimistic colleague Thomas Garcia suggested.
I checked the freezer. No keys. Then I glanced down to the counter, and right behind the microwave, in a spot I had checked maybe 15 times, they lay.
Usually I conclude anecdotes with some sort of moral or life lesson I learned, but I’m at a loss for profundity this morning. Just don’t lose your keys, that’s all. It’ll save you time.