Not too long ago I had an unfortunate encounter with a foam pit at the trampoline park. The short of it was I ended up taking a cab home to get the other family car and then driving back to pick up my family after wasting two hours. Good times. In case you missed it, you can click here to read the details.
Before we left the trampoline park, one of the staff members told me they cleaned out the foam pit once or twice a month depending on who I was talking to. While frequency was debatable, Wednesday was definitely the day by all accounts, and they’d give me a call if they found my keys.
I thought this was probably just enough hope to make the pain cut even deeper when I had to shell out a couple hundred dollars to get the key replaced, but I figured I’d at least follow-up to see if they turned up.
Luckily, they did. It took me at least five calls to figure that out, though, which is my only gripe about the situation. Being the pragmatist that I am, I fully intended to give my new friends at the trampoline park this constructive feedback but didn’t want to do so before having the keys in my hand. I had some concerns about my comments resulting in my keys magically disappearing if I said something sooner.
It’s not that I blamed them for me acting like I could defy gravity and losing my keys in the process, but I did expect when multiple people on different days promised me a call back that I’d actually get a call back.
The moment of truth arrived and I went to pick up the keys. I have to tell you once I walked in I completely forgot everything I had planned to say as soon as I saw my keys. The only thought in my head was we were reunited, and it feels so good.
Can you say holiday miracle?