A real-life story about honesty and the choices we make.
AdmiGram.com brings you a positive, real-life story — one that could easily have happened to you, too.
These events took place in Poland back in 1994, just before Christmas.
A Positive Story About Honesty and a Mobile Phone
© Gazety Wrocławskiej
This happened to me in the rough late ’90s, before I moved to the United States in the early 2000s. Back then, I was a young, broke student doing my best to survive university life in Warsaw. Those who lived through that time will remember how hard it was — especially for students from small towns trying to make it in the capital.
Money was always short. Prices went up every month, and finding even a part-time job felt nearly impossible.
At that time, computers and mobile phones were almost unheard of. Okay — people dreamed about them, of course — but they felt more like science fiction. In our entire class, only two students owned a computer, and the only person with a mobile phone was the spoiled son of a big appliance store owner. For an average student, the height of technology was an electronic calculator.
Owning a mobile phone back then was a huge status symbol. Just holding one instantly made you look important. It made meeting girls easier. And whenever someone pulled a phone out of their coat, everyone immediately knew: this was a big deal person.
One winter day, right before finals, I was riding a packed minibus to the library. About twenty people were crammed inside like sardines. Edyta Górniak was playing on the driver’s radio, everyone was quietly waiting for their stop — when suddenly, a loud phone ringtone rang through the cabin.
© Gazety Wrocławskiej
Everyone froze and started staring. It was the ’90s in Poland, after all. A middle-aged man pulled a large mobile phone from under his coat.
I remember thinking how badly I wished that person were me.
At the next stop, the man got off with a very attractive woman. I watched them with open envy. As I moved into the space they had just vacated, I accidentally stepped on something hard.
I knew instantly what it was.
Carefully reaching down, I picked up his mobile phone.
My very first thought was to keep it. Finders keepers, right? Who would ever find me? As we drove to the next stop, I was terrified the phone might ring. I jumped out of the minibus and walked away from the stop, staring at my incredible “find.”
But the longer I held someone else’s phone in my hands, the clearer it became:
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be a thief.
So I turned around and headed back the way I’d come, hoping I’d run into that couple. A few minutes later, I spotted the man in the expensive wool coat and his companion. I approached him and asked if he had lost a phone.
© Gazety Wrocławskiej
He immediately panicked and started patting his pockets. When he saw his phone in my hand, he was completely stunned.
Then he pulled out a thick stack of bills — 10,000-zloty notes — and began counting them. After the third bill, his wife smirked and said,
“Darling, take the money from the other stack.”
At that exact moment, my inner demons woke up.
Why did I give it back at all?
If she hadn’t said anything, he might’ve given me much more!
And now because of her, it’ll be less…
Why does anyone even need honesty?!
The man awkwardly put the money away, cleared his throat, and said,
“Sorry, my friend. She’s right.”
Then he handed me exactly ten twenty-dollar bills.
“This is for your honesty — and for not calling anyone on the phone,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. Seeing my wide eyes, he smiled and told me not to be shy and to take the money.
“Honesty always comes at a price,” he said.
And then we went our separate ways.
I never did buy myself a mobile phone back then. But for an entire year, I didn’t have to travel home for food.
In 1990s Poland, $200 was a fortune — especially for a poor but honest student from the countryside.
