Me and my intern friend who will be nicknamed Uw (for Upper West Side) just found this package that was mailed to our building address on May 31, 2007. In it is a broken watch, because, you guessed it - this floor used to be a watch factory of some sort. I can see the asian sweat shop laborers now...
Anyways, the woman (Sharon) enclosed within the original box:
1) a receipt
2) her card with the phone number scrapped out a different phone number written in
4) a warranty card with our address printed on it
5) a check that adds up to the correct sum for repairing the watch while under warranty
6)...isn't this getting depressing?
7) a note written in messy script explaining her sister gave it to her and it broke after wearing it twice... on a shrivel of post-it note paper with purple print which reads "Pathways Community Hospice."
Now I feel horrible. This old lady wanted to wear her cheesy watch decorated in roses; she's a nice old lady, you can tell because she even wrote on a check printed with little puppies - in a basket while wearing bows. She's so old her motor skills were going shot, that's why her hand writing is exclusively large fonted and wobbely. This was probably her last wish, to get her silly watch with roses on it back to her wrist in one piece. And now she won't die in peace because of it. Because she was in a HOSPICE!
How can I help? I can call her. But I can't call her because she isn't picking up at the listed phone number. I think she may already be gone! Life just isn't fair.
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