Ring.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
It was a long night, we went the distance (2am), but apart from a few generally insignificant odds and ends, it was basically an easy shift.
However, we had a few owners in, two of which are a youngish couple (late 20s) who have been together for over five years and recently got engaged. They're both very nice, but they rarely come out and drink; the woman in particular. Tonight, however, they were celebrating another owner's birthday, and as it typically goes with non-drinkers, it wasn't long before they were both pretty drunk, her in particular. However, they're very pleasant, as said, and I figured that was that.
About midnight, however, one of their friends came up to me and said the lady had lost her engagement ring. The story was that jokingly she'd taken it off and thrown it at her beau, he'd put it in his pocket, and then lost it. Naturally, she was beside herself and because she was drunk quickly became a bit hysterical. The DJ put a call out to the bar and I spent the better part of an hour, on-and-off, looking for the thing. Especially when the chap mentioned it had cost him five grand.
It never turned up. I kept on expecting to see a glimmer of light somewhere near the dance floor (the only places he'd been was the bar, the dance floor and the toilet) but when it didn't happen after sixty minutes I figured either (a) somebody had picked it up, or (b) it had been kicked somewhere - most likely under the tiny gap beneath the stage - and it was going to take a miracle with a pair of eagle-eyes to find it. I even went up to the bloke and asked him if he'd searched inside his shirt, trousers, other pockets, etc, but he'd assured me he had, and it wasn't there.
About half an hour later I'd basically given up hope. I was walking down by the doors to the club when suddenly the chap walked by, got my attention, and beckoned me outside. We walked well out of earshot and he looked and me and said, "Tell her you found it."
And held up the ring.
When I'd left him earlier, he'd gone over himself again and, fucking hell, lo and fucking behold, he found it in one of his trouser pockets. Basically as I had said.
Now, understandably not all that keen on taking the full brunt from his missus who'd been doing her nut for a couple of hours while he'd had it in his possession all along, he asked me to pretend I'd found it. I double-checked with him to make sure this wasn't some kind of elaborate joke, and it definitely was the ring, but he assured me everything was as said.
So, I went back in, found her, dropped the ring in her hand, and Jesus Christ, the poor girl couldn't have been any more grateful. I was alright with that, but then when everybody else started shaking my hand and the DJ called out that I'd found it over the microphone, I felt like a right cunt. I even had to make out I'd found it outside the toilets, to cover the boyfriend's arse.
That's fine; all in a day's work, etc. And when he came back inside and she rushed up to him, passed on the news, and they embraced, it was all worth it. I guess. The bloke and I shared a private nod - him, thanks, me, no worries - but I felt ashamed enough to spill the beans to Jabba and Edmonson, neither of whom seemed to give much of a fuck. I guess you had to be there.
I tell you what, though, I'm not sure I've ever seen so many diamonds before. That thing was huge. No wonder she was crying her eyes out. I would have been.
Actually, I wouldn't; it's a bit harsh, but that's one of the big differences between a man and a woman. A woman loses her wedding ring, she's inconsolable. A man loses his engagement or wedding ring, and he's upset... but only because he knows his partner will be. Personally, he doesn't give a fuck. But he has to - and does - because she does.
But deep down, all he's really thinking about is the insurance claim.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:30 am
