I lost my phone yesterday. I called it. It was still switched on. I texted my contact information, hoping a finder would think to read a new message. Nothing. I left another, praying he or she might check the phone's voicemail. Nothing.
But after some thinking and sleuthing I was able to make a phone call. The guy at the other end was the kind of guy who communicates barely, in grunts. Several facts were presented and his final grunt confirmed that he had, indeed, received a phone call at 9.22 a.m. This call, I mentioned by way of explanantion, was made from my cell phone, which I mislaid a short while before and which would dearly love to be returned to the bosom of its owner.
Okay. I didn't say it exactly like that but I did give him a number to call. I would collect the phone at it's finders convenience. And I thanked him profusely for his time.
Since then, I heard nothing. After many hours, I tired of the wait and cancelled the phone (and yes, the finder had been making calls all day). These blighters should get it in the neck. Or early male-pattern baldness on they and their descendents to the seventh generation. Something like that.
Upside: I do have a new cell phone. Shiny.