All Is Not Lost

“Interested in a movie, tonight?” I asked Mike. “Five o’clock at the Regal?”

Mike agreed to both in a nonchalant manner unaware of the psychological and magical drama that had unfolded prior to securing $5 Tuesday Regal bargain tickets to “Oppenheimer.”

My quest to obtain the tickets rivaled J. Robert’s quest to gain security clearance. Ok, not nearly as difficult as that (and I succeeded), but it was a bit frustrating.

Digital Runaround

A Tuesday date night movie didn’t have the entertainment vibe of a weekend outing, but saving a bazillion dollars with a “Tuesday night is the new Saturday night” mindset had a positive vibe of its own.

After verifying the fiver ticket offer online, I fired up my new iPhone 14 Pro and downloaded the Regal app. While I hadn’t quite mastered all the bells and whistles (Was that a tone choice to announce untimely messages from sites I unintentionally allowed access into my life?), I considered myself hip enough to store virtual tickets in my Apple wallet right under my Covid vaccination card. (Did we still need those?)

After choosing two adult tickets to the 5 pm showing, I proceeded to checkout and found that a bazillion dollars would be charged to my credit card. 

What happened to the bargain?

After scrolling back a few pages I learned that an app AND membership allowed access to the money saving deal. 

No, problem, I’ll join, I thought, just one more untimely message.

I inputted my email address and a memorable password and figured I was in.

I was out.

The email address is currently being used. Input correct password, it instructed.

A firing synapse produced a rectangular plastic Regal Crown Club Membership card visual that I had once secured on a split key ring along other membership cards.

Oh, yeah, I thought, I WAS a member.

In the bygone days, before the pandemic, I’d purchase a paper ticket at the ticket window where my scannable card collected points for free popcorn.

I checked my password index card file (I’m not THAT hip), but no record existed. After several futile attempts to remember a password that I hadn’t used in almost a decade, I noticed that an option to input a membership number would procure the savings.

Only now I had to FIND the card.

Physical Runaround

The catchall bag of useless items commonly referred to as my purse seemed like an initial starting point. Other than my wallet, phone, and fob, the other items reflected what I thought would be a good idea at one time- a notebook, for my writer’s inspiration that never struck while away from my laptop; a lipstick when I’m more of a Chapstick kind of girl; and crumpled receipts that should have gone in the monthly bill basket on my desk.

No Regal Crown Club Membership card.

On the off chance that I stored the card in a safe place I scoured my writing desk and the antique droptop desk in the entryway.

While the writing desk surrendered a Menard’s rebate too late to submit, the droptop desk offered more mysteries in the form of various sized keys with unknown locks. 

No Regal Crown Club Membership card.

Psychological Runaround

Needing a helpful distraction from my frustrating hunt, I Googled “How to find lost things” which yielded suggestions for what I had already done – systematic searching. 

I moved onto other strategies.

According to an abstract from the Journal of Experimental Psychology, thinking about the nonvisual characteristics of the lost object aided in its location. Apparently, my subconscious noted the missing Regal Crown Club Membership card’s weight, hardness, and slipperiness. So, theoretically the less than a ½ ounce, stiff, slick card wouldn’t be in my sweater drawer since my soft, fuzzy, sweaters weigh more than ½ ounce. However, its similarity to a credit card would indicated that checking behind my driver’s license might be fruitful. 

Except what about the sweaters with pockets? I might have slipped the card into a sweater’s pocket.

I checked in my sweaters’ pockets AND behind my driver’s license.

No Regal Crown Club Membership card.

Magical Runaround

According to the House of Intuition website, a pendulum may be effective in finding an object or determining whether or not it is irretrievable. “The pendulum can save you countless hours before you spend your time in a pointless search.”

Here was the answer to all my problems (or at least an answer to the missing Regal Crown Club Membership card problem). All I needed to do was secure a pendulum and figure out how to use it.

Upon further investigation, a triangular gemstone of some sort suspended from a chain would channel my energy and answer yes or no questions in a Magic-Eight-Ball-20-Questions manner.

Not having an official pendulum on hand, but having an array of necklaces, I substituted the silver chain with a round bird pendant that Mike had given me last Christmas. I counted on the inset crystals to offset shape discrepancy.

Then I read the pendulum users’ guide outlining steps such as “clear your mind of worries” and “be patient and present” and “do not multi-task.”

Being an impatient multi-tasker, whose hobby is needlessly worrying, I ditched the magical strategy.

No Regal Crown Membership card.

Everyday Epiphany 

Enjoying the necklace’s whimsy and connection to a dear memory, I fastened the chain around my neck.

I reconsidered the problem of not being able to purchase $5 Tuesday Regal bargain tickets through my original membership connected to my email account.

With a flash of “more than one way to skin a cat” inspiration I shucked aside my solution of finding the Regal Crown Membership card to input the number and instead used a different email address for a new membership. 

With virtual tickets tucked into my Apple wallet right under my Covid vaccination card, I checked with Mike about “Oppenheimer.”

“Good idea, Anita,” Mike said looking up from his computer, “nice necklace.”

Clearing the clutter from my frantic search, I smoothed the crumpled receipts ejected from my purse and put them in the monthly bill basket on my desk. Later I would check them against my credit card statements.

And there, under the Mariano grocery receipts, was my Regal Crown Membership card.

Check out my book, OPERATION HOPPER.