At Christmas, a blessed and sometimes harrowing time of year, what could be worse than losing your purse while out shopping?
I was lined up at a counter to pay for printer ink and other items I’d picked up when I realized my purse was missing.
All my credit cards, wallet, business info, gone.
"My purse — I don’t have it! Where were we last?" I asked my friend.
"At the far end," she replied, pointing.
The cashier overheard us and quite nonchalantly asked, "Did you say your purse is missing? Go see the service counter across the aisle." She wasn’t sweating about it.
I hurried over and described my bag as black with double straps and a lot of zippers.
"Is this the one?" the clerk said asked, as she held up my bag — which I thought I’d never see again.
"I want to thank them, who gave it to you?" I asked, and got, "I don’t know. They left without saying a word."
To the person who saved the day for me at London Drugs in St. Vital, my sincere, belated thanks.
You have restored my faith in the honesty and goodwill of strangers.
— Anne C. Yanchyshyn