May 11th, 2006
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We’re not doing this for money!
We’re doing it for a shit load of money! Not! Today when I was riding my crippled bicycle home from work and pondering whether I would make it to Lotteria before it closed, I came across a rather large leather pouch on the sidewalk. Of course this caught my interest so I poured on the brakes and after stopping, walked back to investigate more closely. It was indeed a wallet, with a vast number of somethings bundled up inside. Two women waiting for taxis eyed me quasi-surreptiously as I picked it up and looked around. They had to have seen it, since it was all of about twelve feet from them, the lone article on a wide swath of asphalt. However, in general it seems the local thing to do is ignore what isn’t directly your business, so they didn’t bother checking it out or say anything to me after I picked it up.
So I rode back down Yamate-dori to the nearest police box to drop it off, but as usual the Hatsudai 2-chome station was empty, with a sign to call if there was trouble (as the officers on duty were patrolling). I didn’t feel like calling and waiting for someone to show up, so I rode on to the Opera City box where there almost always is someone at the desk. Sure enough, there was, and the middle-aged man present pulled up a chair for me. Like most impersonal things, turning in lost property required quite a detailed process. He put on his gloves (which looked a hell of a lot like FootJoys), and proceeded to carefully pull out and separate all of the contents, cleaning and straightening up the bills, sorting the IDs from the notes and receipts, etc. After about five or ten minutes he asked me where exactly where I had found it, which I did an excellent job of describing since I know the west side of Tokyo so well. Following this he recorded the time, and then my name, address, and phone number. While this seemed a little odd to me since I just wanted to drop it off, it didn’t bother me as I wasn’t in a hurry anymore and I hadn’t done anything wrong.
As it turns out the reason for taking all my information is two-fold. First, in case the owner suspects I took more cash than was found in it (how they could ever prove this though I have no idea, since it would be his word against mine, and if I really wanted to steal the contents I wouldn’t give it to the police). Second, and more importantly, was so I could claim my reward.
What?! Reward? Just for finding someone’s wallet? Yes, it seems that by Japanese law the finder of a lost wallet or purse is entitled to 10-21% of its cash contents for its return, in addition to whatever thanks the rightful owner wishes to bestow for such timely assistance. However, without blinking I told the officer kindly that I didn’t need any compensation for the task, and I really had no speck of doubt in my heart for doing so. It just didn’t make sense to me; what I did was nothing more than common sense and being a good person, to my mind. He asked me several times if it was really okay, and I assured him that it was. When asked if it was all right for the owner to be told my phone number in case the owner of the wallet wanted to know, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. On one hand, I really couldn’t imagine what he would do with my phone number other than call to say thank you, but my unfortunate ingrained suspicion of people trying to sell things or use my PII to solicit junk mail was too strong, so I just said that I didn’t think there would be any reason for him to contact me, so I chose to keep it confidential.
In the end, the policeman explained to me exactly what they would do with it, and how the owner could reclaim it, to all of which it seemed he kind of wanted my confirmation, as if by finding the wallet I had some sort of say over what was to be done with it. In any case, I said ok, thank you, and did my best to return the folding chair I was sitting on before the officer could stop me, and went on my merry way home.
Nine years ago, on nearly the same day, I was at Senior Week in Ocean City with my friends from high school. Near our hotel I spotted a seemingly abandoned backpack on the shore, next to a beach towel and pair of sandals. It remained there until late in the evening, until nearly everyone else had gone home. The smell of the goods and the exotic nature of the materials excited and fascinated me, so I took the bookbag, sandals, and a pair of oversized Birkenstocks (leaving only the ratty towel behind). In the bag was a pair of cheap sunglasses, an audio tape labelled “Mix for Melissa”, and a set of keys to a Camaro. I kept them all, without really thinking or caring about the consequences. I even walked through a couple parking lots pushing the trunk release button on the key fob, to see if any of the cars would open.
Though I suppose some fervent alumni of the University of Virginia would say that four years of the Honor System at Mr. Jefferson’s university changed me, I think my ethics just developed a little late, around the same time my hand-eye coordination did. Though I had a great number of things stolen from me while at CMU and shortly after coming to Japan, it still doesn’t seem like fear of further retribution that drives me to do such things. Nowadays, it’s just second nature to help. It’s the least I can do, anyway, as a greatly benefiting member of society.
