Our store ships diamonds mostly with Fed-Ex. More expensive items go Brinks and overseas transaction are transported by Ferrari. Each company delivers countless millions of packages every day without mishap. No thefts or lost packages, although we always pray for a slip-up since shipments are insured for their exact value. When I first started working at the diamond exchange, I asked my boss to explain such a contrary desire.

“If they lose a package, we get paid twice. Once by the customer and another by Fed-Ex.” Richie Boy told me while at the same time making sure that I followed Fed-Ex’s stringent packing policies. Customers liked their merchandise without any problems and for my twenty years working for Richie Boy’s father I can’t recall Fed-Ex ever losing a package despite our wishes otherwise.

Thankfully our customers are more helpful. Their houses are burgled by thieves. Diamond studs fly off the ear at weddings, and on occasion they forget where they put their jewelry. I once cached a diamond ring in my apartment in the East Village after a night of drink. The next morning I searched my usual hiding holes without success. It was gone and I blamed its disappearance on the mice infesting our tenement building since they looked fatter thereafter.

My Irish grandmother said whatever you lose wasn’t yours in the first place. I agreed with her, but at the diamond exchange we listen to tales of loss with practiced sang-froid. Commiseration with a query about replacing the lost bracelet, ring, or necklace. My co-worker Cindy had a client this week looking to replace two vanished items. An emerald ring and another diamond ring. A $30,000 purchase. Her commission would pay a month’s mortgage. She waited for a month for the insurance company to settle with the suburban couple. Everything looked green light for the new sale until the woman called and said that she had found the rings. Her eight year-old daughter had traded them to a campmate for a sandwich. Bologna for tuna. It seemed like a good deal in the summer. Cindy’s client was honest and reported her discovery to the relieved insurance company.

“The little bastard.” Manny said without hesitation. He liked Cindy and in these hard times understood she needed this sale. “Better luck next time.”

Cindy was a good person. She was happy with her client’s good luck, although probably not as much as her client’s insurance adjuster. they would be able to dine out on that story at Outback for the next month. Bonne Chance.

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