Commentary

Attention: Walmart Shopper

November 13, 2025   ·   0 Comments

By Anthony Carnovale

I left my wallet in El Segundo

I got to get it, I got, got to get it.

Do you know this song from A Tribe Called Quest? If not, have a listen. I forgot how good it is. The video is dope, too. In it, Q-tip raps about a road trip that has this hallucinatory vibe. Q-Tip and his friends drive past their intended destination and end up in El Segundo — far from where their journey began. After a quick stop for some fast food, where they’re distracted by a beautiful waitress, they head back home; they’re almost home when Q-Tip realizes he’s left his wallet in El Segundo.  

It’s not the story of the wallet that gets you — it’s the vibe they’re trying to set. That tumbling baseline. The rhyme scheme and witty wordplay. Q-Tip’s not angry about losing a wallet. He wrote a catchy tune about it, instead. And, if you listen closely, it’s also about the things we lose and the journey to retrieve them. A wallet is so much more than a wallet — it’s an archive. When we lose it, it’s like losing a piece of ourselves. It’s the best rap song about leaving your wallet in a diner.

I’m telling you this, dear Walmart shopper, because you brought me back to this track. You got me thinking about wallets. Because you’re the one who stole my wallet and started me on this journey.  

I only realized something was wrong when I couldn’t log in to my bank accounts. I looked for my wallet; it was nowhere to be found. I asked my wife to log in with her credentials; she gasped and mentioned something about her head exploding. A $230 purchase at Walmart. Over 30 transactions for lottery tickets.

Lottery tickets? Scratch and Win? Nicely played — a quick way to turn stolen credit into cash. Did you win anything? I don’t buy lottery tickets often. When I do, I don’t check the numbers for weeks. I like the idea of winning more than the reality of losing. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if I did win. I probably wouldn’t be as happy as I am right now. You know what they say: more money, more problems. I hope you won a little something.

As you know, my wallet is black. It has a zipper. It has this retro vibe to it that baristas sometimes comment on. It isn’t a big wallet. Just big enough to carry what I need. Like the gift card to my local coffee shop. There wasn’t much on it. Maybe five bucks, or so. When the balance gets to that point, I usually leave it at the café for Warren, a friend of mine; he’s homeless. He likes the Eggie (in case you happen to run into him and want to help him out). My health card: I’m hoping I won’t need that for a while. My license: I hate driving. No biggie. You already know about my debit and credit cards. I was never a fan of the whole ‘tap’ thing.

Truthfully, the most valuable item in our wallet is my library card. You see, I love books. My favourite writer of all time is Nelson Algren. Algren put it into my head that we should stand in veneration at what some people have to carry around in their lives, rather than judge and castigate them. Please, check him out. In some ways, I think Algren was the one who started me on this path that I’ve been treading lately. It’s a part of my new practice. It’s called ‘Discerning Mind.’ It’s kind of like when your conscience and intellect work together to see, hear, more than what you’re seeing and hearing. It’s about meeting situations with a ‘wise presence’. If that doesn’t make any sense to you, don’t worry about it. I’m still working on it. That’s why it’s called a ‘practice’.

What I do know is that I’m not mad at you. In fact, I’d like to thank you.

Because of you, I met a barista who didn’t charge me for my coffee when I told him about my wallet being stolen. Because of you, I spoke to a customer service rep with the thickest of Spanish accents; she sounded jovial, so happy to be alive, happy that she could help in some way (she made me happy to be alive, too). At the bank, the teller next to me had a conversation with an older man who said he was too busy, too tired, to go out trick-or-treating. At another bank, I saw a woman with eyebrows like crows’ wings. While walking outside with a rough draft of this column, a gust of wind snatched the papers out of my hand; the papers whirled and danced above me, as if trying to hypnotize me. It was bedazzling. All of this, because of you.

Look, I could have given in to despair. I could have shown my children what that looked like. There’s already enough of that in our world. Those purchases that you made? I hope they changed your luck, your life, in some small way. I’ll think of them as a gift for me, as well. And even though I’ll never see them, I appreciate the gesture. After all, it’s the thought that counts. Right?

I hope you find peace in your life.

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