Lost and found

On Monday, one of my colleagues told me about an ingenious business model involving the Apple iPhone.

I'm not talking here about one of the thousands of fascinating and (often) useful "apps" — the free or cheap software applications that allow you to do anything from looking up the railway timetable to distorting photos of your friends.

No, I'm talking about a much more ingenious business model. It works like this: the "business people" behind this model steal people's iPhones from bags, pockets or tables in pubs. It's as simple as that.

Well, not quite, because these "business people" aren't interested in the phones. Instead, when the owner calls his or her mobile number to locate the phone, they say, "Yes, I've got your phone, and you can have it back for €100" (or any other suitable sum).

Actually, there is another word for this business model. It is not only ingenious, it is disgusting. And the people that do this to others are bad people.

But would I pay €100 to get my iPhone back? Of course I would. I love the phone, both for its usefulness and its appearance. I call it my "pride and toy", a play on the English expression "pride and joy".

Fortunately, I didn't have to pay €100 last week when I lost my iPhone after arriving at Stansted Airport in England. I noticed after I had passed through customs that I had left my phone on the "other side".

As there was no way back, I contacted the information desk and the lost-property desk, but to no avail. The lost-property man told me I should ring back the next day. I said I would, but had no hope of being reunited with my pride and toy.

Then, just as I was leaving the lost-property desk to catch a train to London, an airport official arrived holding my phone. I couldn't believe either my eyes or my luck.

My luck was that the phone had been found by this good person, who had simply handed it in. We shouldn't forget that such people do exist. Nor should we forget the extent to which honesty can contribute to our collective happiness.