By Mark Munger (c) 2025
I was raised by my parents, church school teachers, and my Scout leaders to always look for the good in folks. Sometimes, that’s a difficult task.
I’m one of those people who wears an electronic device on my left wrist. The photo above depicts the second FitBit watch I’ve owned. The first one, given to me several years ago by my wife in hopes I’d calculate my daily activity (known affectionately as “steps” in SmartWatch jargon) to keep my old man belly from getting larger, died of natural causes not long after its purchase. Never one to forget her purpose (here, keeping me in shape) René bought me the replacement shown in the picture, one I’ve now owned for a few years and worn nearly every day to compute my activity level. So, when we recently took our annual spring sojourn to Arizona (this year, sans SAT (René’s Small AssTrailer)), the watch and its charger and cord came along for the journey.
I have to admit: since Callie the Brittany is always with us on camping outings, even though we were doing motel and cabin stays on this trip, I like having the FitBit on my left wrist when I take her for walks to do her business. She’s the sort of gal who’s leisurely about her morning constitution, meaning I get a lot of steps in before my wife is out of bed. That’s not a bad way to start the day but enough background: on with the tale!
Since we weren’t hauling a small house behind our rapidly aging Jeep Grand Cherokee on our annual vacation from retirement, I decided to drive the northern route to Lake Havasu, our first destination. René’s older sister and husband have always wanted us to see where they stay in their RV, so my wife booked us into a Day’s Inn in downtown Havasu City. We spent our first night on the road in Nebraska, after which we drove to Denver and then into the Rockies, eventually arriving in Grand Junction, Colorado the second night of our trip. I’d made a reservation at the local Ramada and it turned out the place had seen better days. Though the lobby and common areas were recently remodeled, our room was a bit tired and rundown. Still, it was clean and we settled in for the night.
In the morning, we ate the complimentary breakfast and began packing up for the journey through Vegas, the desert, across Utah, and into the northwest corner of Arizona. While loading the Jeep, I noticed my FitBit was low on battery juice so, without really thinking things through, in the middle of a harried retreat, I plugged the watch into its charger and connected it to an outlet in our soon-to-be-empty room. You can see where this is headed, right?
“Hi,” I said, the next morning from the Havasu Days Inn, my call to the Grand Junction Ramada made moments after I realized my watch and charger and cord were still in Colorado, “Mark Munger here. I think I left my FitBit, charger, and cord in our room yesterday.”
“What room were you in, Sir?” the desk clerk, the same guy (he had a noticeable East Asian accent) who’d checked us in, asked.
I told him.
“I’ll go check and call you back.”
I missed the guy’s return call because we were off doing touristy things with Steve and Diane, René’s brother-in-law and sister. But the guy was kind enough to leave a voice message. By the time I noticed he’d called, it was evening.
“Yes, Sir. We have your watch and stuff. Please give a call back.”
I called the next morning.
“Oh yes,” a female voice at the Ramada front desk said when I explained why I was calling, “your watch and charger and cord are here.”
Great news! Except, when I asked how I could get my property back, offering to pay for shipping, the clerk was very clear about protocol. “You’ll need to talk to the manager to make those arrangements,” the young woman said. “She works this weekend so call back then.
That made perfect sense to me so, on Saturday morning, I called the Ramada again. It just so happened the manager answered the phone. After explaining why I called, she said she’d look for the FitBit and accessories and call me back. She never did. I waited a day and called again.
“You’re watch and charger and cord aren’t here,” the woman said.
That astounded me. Troubled me, might be a better description.
“How can that be? I heard from two of your staff. They both said my stuff had been located and was still at the hotel.”
“We don’t have it,” was her curt reply.
“I saved the voice message on my phone from the guy who found it. When I called back, a second desk clerk, a woman, confirmed my watch was there.”
The manager was miffed at my insistence. “Your stuff isn’t here. But I can ask the person who left you the message. He’s working today. I’ll check and call you back.”
She never called. After waiting a few hours, I called again.
“He says he doesn’t have your watch.”
“What? Two people at your hotel …”
Click. She hung up on me in mid-sentence. I want to be clear here. I hadn’t raised my voice. I hadn’t accused anyone of anything. I was simply trying to get my FitBit back. I called the desk again. The manager didn’t pick up. I waited an hour and called back.
“Ma’am,” I said evenly, “I don’t appreciate being hung up on. I didn’t raise my voice, didn’t get upset with you. But this is wrong. Your folks said the watch was there. Now you say it isn’t. Did you ask the fellow who found it where it might be?”
Her patience, at an end, she hissed out, “He says he doesn’t have your watch. There’s nothing more I can do.”
“Will you ask him if he ever had my watch?”
“No.”
“Can I speak to the general manager?”
“You are.”
“Can I speak to the owner?”
“He lives in Nepal. I don’t know when he will be in town.”
I was getting frosted. “You know, this is a theft. You had my watch. Now you don’t. Meaning someone took it. It’s now a matter for the Grand Junction Police.”
“Fine. Report it. Have a nice day.”
This time, furious and afraid I might say something I’d regret, I ended the call. I explained all this to René as we biked around Havasu City on borrowed eBikes. I mulled over in my mind what I should do. Report it to the cops? Send a letter to the owner? Send a letter to Ramada corporate? Report it to the Better Business Bureau? Ultimately, I decided to enjoy my vacation sans FitBit and leave things alone.
“Dad,” our youngest son Jack said when I called home a few days later, “there’s a package here from Grand Junction, Colorado for you.”
“What?”
“There’s an envelope here, a big one, from Colorado.”
I knew what was inside. “Open it.”
The kid complied. “Why did you mail your watch home?”
I smiled. “It’s a long story.”
But the FitBit is back where it belongs, on my left wrist, telling me to get moving.
Peace
Mark
