I was excited to finally get a Kindle last April, and doubly-so that it was the awesome Kindle Fire–Amazon’s newest entry into the e-reader market. It had a full-color screen, and was a sexy black (compared to the silver hue of the older Kindle models), and was reputed to be better for browsing the web than any Kindle model before it.
In the weeks that followed, I visited Amazon’s website every day to take advantage of the newest free Kindle books and apps. (Amazon’s free offerings are updated throughout the day, every day, depending on which publishers are participating in the program.) I also enjoyed my time browsing through Amazon’s selection of eb00ks that can be borrowed for FREE by Amazon Prime members (like me.) I was having a great time, and thoroughly enjoying playing with my first Kindle.
I took my Kindle Fire to work with me every day. In the office, I discovered another fun use for my Fire: surfing the web via the company wifi. (Before you think I’m too much the rebellious sort–my employer keeps a “public” wifi signal for employee use. Though I doubt they intended for employees to be surfing quite as much as I was those first few weeks.)
Then the day came that I was made a careless decision. My arms loaded up with groceries from Target, I left my Kindle in my car under the driver’s seat. I only meant to leave it for a short time–just long enough to put my milk and ice cream away. But I became distracted–and by the time I remembered that my Kindle was still in my car, it was 11 p.m. If it hadn’t been faced down by an angry skunk a few weeks earlier, I wouldn’t have hesitated to pop out to the car in the dark–but as it was, there was no way I was taking any chances. I decided to wait until morning.
The next morning at 5:30, a policeman was knocking at my door. He informed me that my car had been broken into, as had my neighbor’s, and that I should check to see if anything had been stolen. As it turned out, something had: my Kindle Fire. That, and my cell phone, which I had also left in the car.
That day was a bad one for me. After giving the officer information on my stolen property, I went to work—late, as it turned out, because of the amount of time I had to spend with the officer. All that day, I felt decidedly out-of-sorts. I felt violated , and angry. How dare someone steal my Kindle, which I had worked hard to pay for? How could they feel entitled to open up the door of MY car, parked in my private driveway, and rummage through my stuff?
I knew I had a right to be upset—but my emotions were far more unsettled than I could reason out. I felt on the verge of tears at several times during the day—but why? What was causing this intensity of feeling? In time, I figured it out. In addition to a rightful sense of indignation, I was just plain scared. If this crook had the nerve to come onto my property and steal my stuff, he surely wouldn’t hesitate to come into my house—maybe when my child and myself were there. Since this criminal obviously didn’t respect anyone else’s rights, what would he do to us?
I spent the day distracted at my job, but realized at the end of it that, although I couldn’t change what had happened and probably wouldn’t get back what I’d lost, I needed to make this experience into something positive. In my mind, I worked out a plan to discourage burglars to target my home in the future by improving exterior lighting, ensuring all valuables were brought inside immediately upon returning home, and installing a surveillance system….It was all I could do.
At the day’s end, when the sun was low in the sky and the UV levels low, I went for a short walk to calm my nerves—and that’s when I saw it. My Kindle Fire, still enclosed in it’s Otterbox case, was lying in the sparse grass at the far corner of my yard, about 25 feet from my car. My mouth literally fell open–I couldn’t believe my luck. At first, I couldn’t figure out why the burglar didn’t take the Kindle Fire with him–but quickly decided it was for one of several reasons.
- The burglary was done purely with destructive intent, not in an effort to sell the items or benefit from their use. (This is the least likely explanation, in my mind, because the thief DID keep the cell phone, unless he discarded it in an entirely different location.)
- The thief had second thoughts, either because he was afraid he’d be caught or because he felt guilty.
- The thief didn’t recognize the Kindle for what it was, due to it’s unusual protective case–an Otter Box Defender Series model. This case includes a snap-on plastic cover for the screen of the Kindle that could make it unrecognizable for someone who hadn’t seen one before.
- The thief couldn’t “open” the case quickly to determine what it was, so decided to not risk stealing it–and risk the punishment if he was caught.
So the first way the Otter Box saved my Kindle Fire is one of the above reasons; the second way is this: although the thief threw my Kindle Fire onto the ground from an undefined distance, my Kindle was completely undamaged. Before I bought the Otter Box case, I had actually found YouTube videos demonstrating the abuse an Otter Box case can endure while keeping the item within it completely protected. Now, I had benefited from this very feature–though I had never expected my Kindle Fire to be thrown across a parking lot or anything similar: I merely thought I might drop the thing in my living room!
All things considered, I felt incredibly lucky to have gotten my Kindle Fire back–and in seemingly perfect condition. And obviously, I feel completely happy with my decision to purchase the Otter Box case for my Kindle, and will be a frequent shopper with them for my future mobile electronics. (Otter Box offers cases for many mobile electronics.)