Restoration of hope in student-kind

I don't often lose things. I carry three things on me: cell phone, wallet and keys. I check my pockets to an extent that you might believe I have OCD. After all, it can't be that hard to keep track of three things, and I'm 22, not 12.

You can imagine my surprise when I was standing in line at Chipotle and a guy asked me what my name was. I was beginning to think I was going to be famous. I looked over my shoulder to see if he was talking to the guy behind me, and I then swiveled back, "Who me?"

"Yeah, what's your name?"

I replied with surprise, "Alex." With that, he handed me my wallet. My world fell apart as if he had passed a baton of doom – not the leather wallet I had grown to love. How could I lose my wallet? I then became overwhelmed with graciousness and offered to buy him his meal. He refused.

About two weeks later, I pick up a voicemail on my phone from Public Safety. They let me know that my wallet was found and returned to their office. Once again, my mind was blown. My thought proceeded in the same way as before: How could I lose my wallet? And how could it possibly have been returned to me?

I've been dubbed a pessimist by many, and their title is probably well warranted. I expect the worst in order to avoid disappointment. I certainly don't expect to get things back that I've lost, especially things that have value.

Maybe I need to have a little more faith in my fellow students. (Our mission statement says something about that, right?) *Scratching my head*

Maybe they will do the right thing. Maybe I'm losing my grip on pessimism. Probably not.

-Alex Tandy