>From the book:
"How I ........... and other stories that should be retired."
By Mervyn A. Lobo
One Friday morning, on my way to work, I stopped at my favourite donut/coffee
place and stood in line. Yes, Canadians stand in line. Even though it is
only for
three things:
1) To buy coffee/donuts.
2) To get money out of the bank.
3) To get Maple Leafs (hockey) tickets.
Just as I was coming up to the coffee counter, I noticed that there were
some bank notes on the ground. I picked them up and told the owner
of the donut place that one of his customer's must have dropped it. The guy got
nervous and said, "No, no, no, no money. Go give money to security."
So I went down to the security office (seven stories below the street
level at the Eaton Centre, Toronto) and gave the money to the security
people. Later that morning, feeling quite the Boy Scout, I told a work mate
what had happened. My work mate said, "Listen buddy, I used to work as
a security guard. Every time someone came to us with found money we
kept it for two days and if it was not claimed, we used it to buy beer."
Being the responsible person that I am, i.e. in the interest of keeping
security people half decent, when I finished work that day, I went back to
the security department. I asked those in the newly arrived shift, "Did
anyone bring here four $20 bills, two $10 and two $5 dollars bills?" The
shift boss said, "Yes, here it is. It is very rare that people bring money
to us." I took the money and headed back to the donut shop.
I looked all around on the floor again but did not spy any more money.
So I bought $2.50 worth of donuts. Then I treated myself to a six pack of
beer ($6.50) and went home.
Five beers later my conscience kicked me/kicked in. I decided to call the
leading
cancer centre in Toronto, the Princess Margaret Hospital, so that I could donate
the rest of the money to them. As it was after office hours I got voice mail
instructing me to call back later. The machine then bumped me to the Princess
Margaret Lottery office.
For non-Torontonians, the Princess Margaret Hospital conducts a lottery every
year in its drive to raise funds for cancer research. Tickets are $100 each.
The
prizes range from houses to cars to bicycles.
So as to avoid making another call in the morning, I bought myself a lottery
ticket.
Three weeks later I was out of a job and snoring when I got a call one morning.
A call at 9.30 am. Another Goan was asking, breathlessly, "Have you been
watching CityTv?" I said "No." Our Goan friend said, "Hey, you just won a
house."
The Princess Margaret people always conduct their lottery draws live on TV so
that the process is transparent to all.
Now, a little secret. Almost all my friends are slightly more weird than than I
am.
Keeping this in mind, I turned over and went back to sleep.
An hour later I got a second call.
This one was from someone claiming to be calling from The Princess Margaret
Hospital Lottery. She wanted me to come to the hospital so that the news
providers could get pictures of me and other winners. I answered
politely, turned
the ringer off and went back to sleep (again). This time I let myself day dream
that
if I had won a prize, it would be a bicycle as I have always looked good on a
bicycle.
A week later my, very humble, name was in the local papers.
For those who are wondering, "What happened to the unaccounted $1.00?"
Read all about it in, "How I paid someone in Cancun to go to jail for me."
Mervyn3.0
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