Wednesday, August 06, 2008


So yesterday I'm hanging out in my apartment, trying to get some work done on the computer while simultaneously cleaning the bathroom (not an easy task, I assure you, which may explain why I was successful on neither count), and acting as an intermediary between my roommmate and some good friends who were generously offering to take in "Sparky" for a few days, when the phone rings and it is not about Sparky -- it's the police.

Police: Is this Sarah?
CS: Yes
Police: This is Yiftach from the police department. Did you lose a credit card?
CS: I don't think so. Let me check my wallet.
[checks wallet]
CS: No, they are all here . . . but a few months ago my bag was stolen, with my wallet inside.
Police: Was there a credit card in it?
CS: Yes, a few of them in fact. Why?
Police: We found someone trying to use your card.
CS: What?
Police: We have detained someone, who had your card on him. He was trying to use it.
CS: Wow! I can't believe it. It was stolen so long ago.
Police: Well, ma'am, we're the police. It's our job. Can you come in?
CS: Um, OK. Um. When's the latest I can come?
Police: Well, we'd like you to come now.
CS: Um. . . . well, OK then, I'll be there in an hour.

So I trekked to the police headquarters at the Russian Compound, and watched them load handcuffed prisoners onto a bus in the parking lot until someone from Yiftach's department came to fetch me and show me where to go, and I was ushered into a tiny office where four older and surprisingly jocular Israeli men had their desks. I was shown the card and asked to identify it. They also showed me a little slip of paper with numbers on it, and asked if this was the PIN for my card -- which it wasn't.

From the pile of sealed envelopes on the investigator's desk, and the questions they asked, it appeared to me that they caught someone with about 8 credit cards on him, belonging to other people. He probably tried to convince them that he had permission from all these folks to use the cards, and when they asked him to prove it by providing the PIN numbers, he bluffed his way through and wrote something down.

Anyhow, I am very proud of myself because I got through all of this entirely in Hebrew. The investigator, though, typed up my written statement for me, with my input, and I just checked the printed version for accuracy and signed it.

P.S. Update on Sparky here.

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