Ummm . . . My Bad

I exited the men's public restroom at work, and walked the fifty yards or so back to my office. Engrossed in my work, I opened some mail and created files for several minutes until I realized my iPhone was not in sight.

I'd left it in the stall!

An iPhone is a remarkable piece of technology when one has to use a public bathroom for an extended period of time. I use mine to check email, read FML and text friends who have made the decision to reduce their blogging efforts.

All from within the comfort of the small cubicle and locked door.

Knowing for certain I'd left the iPhone on top of the toilet paper dispenser, I high-tailed it (pun intended) from my office back to the restroom to get it before anyone else could go into the stall.

I was too late. I opened the restroom door to see my former stall door was closed.

Locked. With a set of big brown shoes under the door.

Desperate, I knocked. "Hello," I said. " I think I left my cell phone in the stall. Would you look, and slide it under the door?"

No answer. I knocked again.

"Hey . . . I left my iPhone in this stall. Do me a favor and slide it under the door, okay?"

Nada.

Now certain the guy inside the stall intended to steal my iPhone, I grabbed the top of the wall and pulled myself up in order to see over. Sitting there-- doing his business-- was a man I'd never met. And he had a horrified look on his face.

"Hey, listen . . . I left my cell phone in this stall. Slide it to me, and I'll leave you alone." The man stared at me for a moment, opened his mouth awkwardly and said:

"No speak English."

"Cell telephono," I said in a desperate attempt. He looked confused, and shook his head.

I raced back to my office, determined to catch the guy before he zipped up and zipped out of the stall with my iPhone. I borrowed a phone from a friend, planning to go back to the restroom, call my number and catch the man red handed with my iPhone.

My friend wanted to ensure she had my number saved in her phone, so she pulled it up and hit "call." In a second or two, I heard my familiar ring. . .

. . . under the pile of mail on my desk.

I closed my door and worked incognito for the rest of the day.