Missing ID!

Her name is Pamela Williams.

Her story begins on a cold winter day in early January, the kind of day you wish you could stay home, sipping cups of hot cocoa and just lazing around. However, that cold January day was certainly not going to be like this. It was the day of Pamela and Jason’s five-year-old son’s doctor’s appointment.

The pediatric allergy specialist the Williams family had been instructed to see was located near Manhattan. The query went well. They left the office satisfied, but with some reservations about whether or not to follow the prescription drug regiment for Johnny’s rashes.

Being so close to Jason’s business associates gave them good reason to continue their adventure in Manhattan’s business district. They parked in a city parking lot and made the long, cold drive to the man’s office. Pamela and Johnny marveled at the diversity of characters that made up the hordes of crowds in the hallways. As exciting as it was, it left them with an unusual sense of chaos and disorder.

Jason, acting as a guide, seemed to be in control. He led Pamela and Johnny through the labyrinth of humanity with skill. They finally reached the building of their destination. Up the elevator, down the hall, through the security doors. They had finally made it.

While Jason conferred with the gentleman in the office, Pamela lingered in the anteroom talking to Johnny. Everything seemed to go nice enough.

The hour turned late as the trio left the gray office building. As impossible as it seemed, the stark reality was that the crowds on the streets and sidewalks of Manhattan had multiplied by at least two. Stay together, stay together, Pamela thought as panic began to mount.

Pamela and Johnny half ran, half walked to keep up with Jason’s fast pace. Pamela gripped Johnny’s hand tightly. The crowds made it impossible to walk in single file the entire time, but they kept watch on each other. At last they reached the busy post office. Together they entered. Together they walked down the steps to the mailboxes. Jason took his key, opened the box, and retrieved the mail. They prepared for another encounter with the mad rush of the human mass.

As they left the building, Pamela recognized a certain uncomfortable lightness. Something was wrong. Pamela instinctively reached for her purse. I was not there!

“Where is my wallet?” Pamela’s voice took on an artificial high pitch. He quickly rummaged through the sundries bag in which he had brought his lunch. No pocket!

As the masses passed, Pamela felt sweat pour out and panic intensify. Jason’s face reflected emotions.

They retraced their steps. No, post office security had no idea a wallet was missing. There was no sign of him on the floor or on the ledge. There is no wallet anywhere. The crowd passed in an endless stream.

Suddenly, it registered in Pamela’s mind! He had left the wallet … AT HIS ASSOCIATE’S OFFICE! Pamela’s body heat dropped a degree. Yes, she was almost certain … She had left her purse on the floor next to her chair while she was giving Johnny lunch … UNLESS … Pamela knew that she had accompanied Johnny several times to … HIM! BATH!

They hurriedly returned to the office building. The entrance was closed. There are no signs of any security guard. However, Pamela was sure. His wallet was there, hopefully innocently placed on the floor of the anteroom of the office on the fifth floor. The only thing gnawing at her brain was the thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d left it in the ladies’ room, accessible to anyone …

Pamela pushed the unpleasant thought aside. They pushed their way through the crowd and paused for a few moments to put a particular credit card on hold. The rest would have to wait. Pamela wasn’t sure which credit cards she had in her wallet, and besides, she had the feeling, albeit a bit shaky, that everything would be fine in the morning.

They traveled home, engaged in light conversation, and cautiously avoided the fear that was gripping them.

Honestly, that night passed without incident.

The next morning, Pamela eagerly anticipated the happy news of the discovery of a lonely wallet on the floor of her husband’s partner’s office. Unfortunately, the joy never came. Instead, a terrible sense of intense dread washed over his heart.

“Didn’t he find it? Are you sure? Did he look everywhere?”

Yes, apparently he had. Persuading him to go inside and search the ladies’ room hadn’t been too successful, but Jason had managed to get him to at least recruit one woman to explore it. The results: NULL! NOTHING!

Pamela felt like fainting at that moment. There, in the recesses of his wallet, were credit cards, his passport, his residence card, his birth certificate (since he needed it to travel abroad he had not had the opportunity to keep them, how irresponsible, he told himself now. ) her checkbook, her health insurance card, her social security card, her children’s social security cards … Pamela got a very bad headache.

The phone calls began.

“Yes, I’m canceling,” Pamela heard herself tell customer service for each of the countless credit cards she thought had been lost. The strange thing about his questions about whether a recent purchase had been recorded was that time and again they said no. Why, he thought, why wouldn’t a thief use an irresistible credit card? He knew that a lost credit card in the hands of an unscrupulous character was like candy in the hands of a child. The same happened with his checking account. No recent transactions. Strange …

Then it occurred to Pamela.

His whole ‘me’ was in that pocket. Pamela imagined her Canadian passport, her social security card, too many forms of identification dancing mockingly before her eyes. How silly she had been to go around with all that when others kept documents like these under lock and key!

As Pamela made the calls to the different agencies involved in the identity theft, her mind played real-life videos of a vile terrorist walking the streets in the guise of a woman with a very Anglo-sounding name.

Pamela eagerly tried to make a police report about her lost (or – drink – stolen) wallet. It became clear that a police report would require an in-person visit to the nearest police station to the loss. Getting back to Manhattan was not going to be an easy matter.

And as the severity of the situation took hold of Pamela, she came to understand that getting a replacement social security card entailed presenting the authorities with a form of identification, such as a license, a birth certificate, a green card, a passport. … and that getting a replacement for the myriad other documents that he had lost (or- gulp- been stolen) involved presenting … the same various forms of identification. Pamela got lost in a sea, fighting for lifebuoys that weren’t there!

Suddenly it hit Pamela like a ton of bricks. She was a non-entity! To nobody! Without the documents certifying her existence, Pamela Williams did not officially exist. It was a thought that almost made me lose my mind. Suddenly, she wasn’t supposed to drive, she wasn’t allowed to leave the country … What if her parents needed her in Montreal? What if there is an emergency? What if? …

Pamela’s mind refused to wander further. Frantically he went to work to obtain a birth certificate. That, he thought, would be a start to a passport, a US green card, a social security card, a license … Would the list finally end?

It seemed that all requests also required a fee. A substantial one at that.

When the rate list caught Jason’s attention, he concluded that they should wait, just a little bit longer. Maybe the wallet still showed up in the office. Maybe someone had found it and would still report it. No one had used the credit cards, no one had tried to withdraw money from the bank …

It was a glimmer of hope, but faint in light of the fact that now Pamela had nightmares of a dark clandestine figure with her identity making her (or, could it be a him?) Sinister rounds in the gloomy nightclub spots where others terrorists gather to conspire.

Pamela postponed the green card application for a limited time. However, her task of regaining her Canadian birth rights continued. With the help of her former teacher, who was now the principal of the school she had attended, she managed to obtain a letter saying that she was Pamela Williams, known as such for x number of years. The precious letter waited on Pamela’s dining room table along with the too many applications she had purchased. I hope. For the time being.

Life took a different form. It evolved around Pamela’s situation. He would get up in the morning in fear of having problems with his identity. She sent the children to school with the same fear. While doing laundry, Pamela dreamed of being rescued by a hero who had located her wallet. And while shopping, he decided to live in the shadow of an alien who had his precious documents. Although life danced happily around him in the form of health and family life, he was completely missing the beat. Apparently, not only had Pamela’s identity documents been taken away, but her inner happiness had also been taken from her.

Life went on. One morning when Pamela was ready to submit the application that would be the catalyst for others once it was processed, her birth certificate, she picked up the ringing phone.

“Hello. “

“Pamela?” Jason sounded more cheerful than usual.

“Yes, how are you?” Pamela responded with the monotonous tone that had recently taken over her voice.

“I have good news,” he said.

“Good news? What is it?” she asked.

“Guess what,” he said.

“Guess? I can’t guess now,” he said. “I’m so busy – what is it?”

“Just guess,” he pressed. What would be good news now? “

“Who won the playoffs? I really don’t have time for games right now. What is it?”

“It’s not about games,” Jason said. “It’s about something you lost.”

There was a long silence as Pamela paused to digest his insistence.

In a very low voice, almost in a whisper, he said, “My wallet? Did someone find my wallet?”

“They found him in the office. Just sitting there, Pamela.”

“Wow,” he said quietly. “They really found it. Thank goodness! But – I don’t understand. Why did it take me a full three weeks to discover my wallet sitting in the corner of the floor?”

There was silence from the other end.

“Woof!” she kept repeating. “I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Thank you.”

Pamela put the receiver back on its holder and sat down. It had been three long weeks since the wallet was missing. Three weeks full of apprehension and dread. Pamela wanted to dance, celebrate, sing. Instead, she sat thoughtfully and simply basked in her newfound relief.

In fact, life has taken on a refreshing new wave. Since that difficult time in Pamela’s life, she has learned to be much more careful with her personal data. Your passport and documentation are locked. Credit cards and the Internet are treated with reverence. And he even added identity theft coverage to his New Jersey homeowners insurance policy.

Incidents related to the landscape of life are nothing short of staggering. Small but important changes are needed to acquire the priceless gift of peace of mind.