Found It

Last night I found something I lost months ago. What a great feeling.

We have only two keys to our car. One is an electronic clicker, and one is just an old-school, stick-in-the-lock key that doesn't even open the trunk. We keep them in a dish by the front door, so whoever is using the car can have their pick. If I'm driving somewhere to go for a run, I will often take the old-school one. It's smaller and will fit in my glove or tied in my shoelaces. Otherwise, who wouldn't want to take the clicker?

I think it was in October or November, that I misplaced the clicker key. I knew it was me, but I didn't feel it was really lost. It seemed like I went somewhere, realized I had both keys and stowed the clicker somewhere safe, maybe in a bag or pocket...I knew I hadn't dropped it or really lost it. Surely it would turn up.

I always have that attitude. My husband will lose something and say, "Chances are slim-to-none we'll ever see it again." I always say, "I bet it'll turn up", and I'm usually right. I especially felt that this time, I really felt I had put it in a responsible place...

Over the months we've had to use the old-school key, and it's been a pain. I searched every pocket, bag and the inside of the car thoroughly, still feeling like it wasn't really lost. My husband has gotten irritated with me about it a couple of times...especially when we drove the car to NYC, with only one key, and once when I couldn't produce it for a few minutes.

I decided yesterday to order him a new one, to the tune of around $300, and give up hope. On my way out the door to work he asked me where something else was I was responsible for, and I couldn't find it either. It reminded me of the lost key, and I was tired of feeling bad about it. I drove to work vowing to get the new key and to be more detail-oriented instead of driving my man crazy...

We had a long night at the wine bar. It started out really slow--only a few regulars. Then a friend sent a text asking if I was working, said he was on his way...so I had him to chat with awhile, then suddenly we got very busy. I almost recruited him to open a couple bottles for me, and I know I gave him the worst service of anyone...but that's what we do to the ones we love, right? Ask them to suck it up when it gets tough on us?

Anyway, I had to kick people out after 10pm (we close at 9), and finish cleaning up. The owner was at a party across the street, so I was alone and searching through a basket of wine stoppers we use to save the open bottles. We'd opened so many bottles we were one short, so I thought I'd really search through the whole basket before asking the owner where to find more. (He always finds stuff in plain sight I can't seem to see, and I'm tired of THAT feeling as well...) As I got to the bottom of the basket I saw it. The car key.

For a second I was too afraid to hope that it could really be ours, but sure enough, it was. Unbelievable. It had been there all these months. Not out where someone could see it, or claim it, but in the bottom of a basket of corks and stoppers.

Even in my incredible elation I knew who to blame...

Dustin. The Saturday night bartender. He is so getting an earful from me...not that that is unusual...

First of all, I absolutely love Dustin, he is funny as hell, great at his job and reminds me of my beloved Greggy. We overlap for about an hour every Saturday. I open the coffee shop early, then he comes in to set up for the wine bar in the afternoon. It's usually a pretty busy time, we still have my coffee customers who want to zone out and take their time over the paper, and there are always a couple people trying to get a glass of wine early.

Typically Dustin blazes in there late, with his nervous energy, rushing around trying to set up candles and menus. He is anxious to get his tipping wine customers settled and clear the coffee drinkers the hell out of there. He gets especially irritated when people have the audacity to buy a cupcake next door, then bring it in and eat it with a cup of coffee.

Apparently he had to clean up the outside tables of icing and crumbs once and claimed there was a Starbucks cup there too, that the people hadn't bought anything from us, just used our tables. He was an absolute Diva about it, threw a fit so that the owner went next door and caused trouble, and put up a sign saying not to bring in outside food. If people bring in cupcakes, we're supposed to say something and blame some health department rule.

Whatever. People absolutely love our coffee with a cupcake and it doesn't bother me. I overlook it, but I know I'm going to have to run interference with Dustin should he see this act when he comes in.

We argue about it constantly...he says it's like bringing McDonald's into a nice restaurant...I say it's not the same thing at all and it's not hurting anyone...he says I'm wasting my work-energy having to clean up crumbs and icing...I say I'm here to serve customers, who cares...he says I'll give away anything for free, that I might as well be out on the sidewalk inviting cupcake carriers in...He says I'm from California, too laid-back and all about "free love" and who knows what else...I say he's damn right...He says, "It's like you're saying, 'I'm Earthynia--feel free to bring in your cupcakes...It's free, like the earth, water, air and your spirit.'"

(They do think I'm a California wacko...I suppose it's true, next to them...people are so worked up here. Why do they call me Earthynia? Not really sure.)

The truth is Dustin is a restaurant person, and a Diva. All the restaurant people are so over this cupcake craze, they think it's a fad, and they go around saying the cupcakes aren't even good. I think the whole thing makes us look like we think we're the precious, fancy wine bar that's above everyone else. It's always better to compliment others and be easy-going, we should just roll with it a little and be gracious.

Anyway, all this to say when he comes in he bustles about all perturbed, moving everything and everyone out of his way so he can set up, and he MOVES MY STUFF. Last week I realized it--"Dustin, where is my cell phone and checkbook?" They were on a top shelf practically out of reach. I would have never seen them.

So, months ago, while I was trying to leave work and get out of the Diva's way, he put that key in the basket of corks and stoppers...It's lucky I ever found it, and it was ONLY because the other bartender quit and I'm dealing with the wine now... ONLY because we were as busy as we were and opened so many bottles...ONLY because I stayed late while the owner was across the street at a party....

Thank heaven, I was right all along and it turned up. And, bonus, it wasn't entirely my fault. Whew. Apparently I did have both keys that day, and did put one in a safe place behind the bar.

It does seem that in my life things finally change when I'm forced to give up on them, let loose of them, quit fighting for them and let them be what they are. Only then, and when all the stars align, the key finally turns up.

I wonder if there's some kind of universal law about that?