Friends of Judy
The Inanity of Lost and Found Offices
By Asher Noor
I
f I lost an item, the last place I would probably check, would be the lost and found office. It will start with a frantic search on my body, replaying in my mind the last time I had the item on me, retracing my steps and calling my wife and kids to see if I hadn’t forgotten it at home. It would end with me calculating the impact of the loss and asking myself if I could buy, replace, duplicate, or survive without the item?
Inexplicably though, at no stage would it cross my mind to look around for a Lost and Found office to go and see if it’s been handed in. However, when I got pick-pocketed at the train station, on the insistence of the hotel manager, the next day I went to the Amsterdam Centraal’s Lost and Found. Ironically it took me a good twenty minutes to find the office at the train station, and a minute into my conversation I realized that only those who speak Dutch will get any meaningful service from the grumpy, lost soul manning the office.
However, some of the stuff I did see in the back, on the shelves of that Lost and Found office, have stayed with me.
A single glove
A stuffed wallet
A manila envelope gathering dust
A spectacle case
A worn-out teddy bear
A bunch of keys inexplicably tied up with a grimy rubber band
Each item had a story to tell, but yet again, I did not speak their language. Once essential to their owners, they hold no value on those shelves. They will stay lost till eternity.
Or, maybe one day, somehow, someone will be able to prove ownership, and the lost item will be reclaimed and reunited.
Asher Noor is a Friend of Judy