Fate, I thought, had played a hand in my future last weekend when thieves broke into our (rented) car and stole my suit jacket. As the only suit jacket I possessed this was surely divine providence – I was clearly destined never to work in an office again. Creativity, the written word, and my panache for story-telling were clearly my calling, it would be roll-neck sweaters from now on … either that or someone didn’t want me to listen to the Buena Vista Social Club CD that was secreted in the left pocket ever again.
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][This event taking place only days after my employer had announced that they wouldn’t be renewing my contract.*]
The crime scene was the car-park of the beautiful Chapel St Sebastien on the outskirts of one of Alsace’s most charming vineyard towns: Dambach-la-ville. There we had parked our Auto-trement Smart car for a mere 90 minutes while we hiked up to enjoy the views from the uniquely positioned ruins of Château Bernstein (the tower of which you can still climb up to enjoy spectacular views), and returned to find the rear windscreen smashed to smithereens.
Lucky for us a local couple had called the gendarmerie and the ‘flics’ were on their way to investigate. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was that neither of the officers attending the scene remotely resembled Marge Helgenburger nor Emily Procter carrying a their signature fishing-tackle box.
But happily that was really the only disappointment. Not actually owning the car means not really caring about the apparent violation of personal space by the thieves. We called Auto-trement and they took care of everything at no extra charge. Nothing truly loved or valuable had been stolen, and perhaps the thieves had actually unwittingly done me a favour – by removing the one interview outfit I actually owned.
We mourned the loss of a much loved handbag however, for a good forty-eight hours, before we got a call from the Gendarmerie in Barr saying that they had found my stupid jacket and the handbag. The only things that missing: 25€ in cash and a Franklin translating machine.
So here I am wondering whether divine providence is trying to tell me that I AM destined to work in an office again … or that I really should be more careful about where I put my Buena Vista Social Club CD?