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Having lost big and small things like jewelry and a 21-inch TV to rogues in the past, I’ve gotten the impression that am quite the alluring magnet to bad elements. That, or it’s just the hassle of living in the city where even policemen steal for a living. That’s why it was quite a breath of fresh air when my cellphone, which I thought I had lost, was returned to me over the weekend. It makes me believe that kind souls still abound in Manila after being cynical about this place for quite some time.

I was about to pay some purchases at the SM Department Store in the Mall of Asia that Sunday afternoon when I realized my slim cellphone wasn’t in my wallet, as it usually was. So we hurried back to the Kenny Rogers resto where we ate 30 to 40 minutes before, just to try my luck at asking if they found it. I was already prepared for the worst, but somehow regretting the fact that my friends and contacts would have to find me again. I don’t subscribe to a postpaid line because I hate paying the surcharges and I only maintain one phone because am not a text and call addict either. But with the frequency that I lose my mobile phones, I’ve gotten into the routine of changing my phone number every six months or so.

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