The New York City metropolitan area is home to 23.5 million people.

Every once in a while, one of them impresses me.

My day starts between 4am and 5am in preparation for the prayer call.

Lori leaves for work at 7am. She takes the train to midtown. Her day starts at 8.

At around 9:15am, she calls me to indicate that she is missing her makeup bag. Normally, this would not be catastrophic, but it has all her office keys. Replacing them will be inconvenient and costly. This is not good.

I am not a militantly organized person. My specialty is a cross between guerilla warfare and pure chaos. Ironically, therefore, I do have a lot of experience finding things I have lost. Employing a protocol that probably dates back to The Great Mitten Retrieval of 1979, we begin to retrace her steps. She’s already been back to the bodega near her office. She has walked the path that took her there. The two most likely misplacement zones, unfortunately, are the Manhattan-bound F train, and the station where she waited for it. She asks me to go to the station, and the benches she was sitting on, to find it. I feel pretty strongly that that I have a better chance of getting struck by lightning, but in the interest of due diligence, I go.

As expected, I do not find it at any bench. I do manage to get uncomfortable close to some seated people, and the ground, in making sure. It’s almost a good way to make friends.

This leaves me with one last option: the MTA guy behind the glass, and some insanely optimistic notion that MTA has a Lost and Found.

There is no-one behind the glass, so I wait.

There does not appear to be anyone at the station, so I keep waiting.

Eventually, I see an MTA guy who seems to be doing a lot of hands-on people work.

He is helping an elderly black lady who doesn’t understand how to buy a metro card. He is helping a European family understand why their credit card won’t swipe unlimited times, and letting them through the gate.

He seems to be helping everybody – except me. But I have time, and he is doing what at this point I would call the Lord’s Work. So I wait.

And while I’m waiting, a word on 21^st Century Customer Service:

Customer service is all too frequently peopled by the unhelpful:

1. People who can’t be bothered.
2. People who are stressed out.
3. People who hate their jobs
4. People who think they are more important than you.

And I get it. Customer Service has to deal with the customer. The customer base is all too frequently peopled by the ungrateful, doing the unthinkable, while asking the impossible.

And NYC is a city full of busy people, whose defenses are up all the time. Everyone is rushed, focused, and armored.

Every now and then, however, at times I least expect, and in ways I have no right to expect, the neighbor system works.

Every once in a while customer service re actually serves the customer.

So this beautiful Indian man from MTA, says “can you describe the bag?”

I do.

“What color?”

It was black.

“How big?”

I use my hands to show that it was roughly the size of a large wallet. Like a purse. A makeup bag.

At this point, while he is being very matter of fact and almost sleepily nonchalant, I begin to discern that he may, in fact, be asking me to describe a bag HE HAS.

I say “wait, did you find a bag?”

He says “We found something. But the owner would have to pick it up. Not you.”

He suggests I get her on the phone.

I hand him my phone. A conversation ensues between Lori and MTA behind bulletproof glass. Several specifics are discussed, including her bedazzled Hello Kitty key chain. He asks me for my name. Then he asks me for her name. Then some more deliberation occurs. There is a brief delay.

THEN HE HANDS ME THE BAG.

Since I can’t hug somebody through bulletproof glass, but I can write a note of commendation with the best of them, I ask for his name.

He won’t give it to me, but he refers me to his employee number.

I don’t even think I got that right, or I would shout him out here. But I will definitely recognize him if I see him again. For now, I will just say props to you MTA Guy. That was amazing.

On my way out, two homeless people address me in impassioned monologues which seem to make sense to them. Under more stressful circumstances I find this jarring. Today it is beautiful. I bless the woman and acknowledge the man, and make my way to my next adventure.

23.5 million people.

Today one of them was amazing.

I can’t wait to see who steps up tomorrow.

Traveling mercies.

(Photo Credit:Projectbootleg - Tom W)