You're reading this on a phone that cost you a few hundred euros.
It has a case on it, doesn't it?
Probably a screen protector too.
You didn't agonise over either of them. You bought the phone and you bought the case in the same ten minutes, because obviously you did.
Now look at the rest of what you carry.
The bag you take absolutely everywhere. The bike you leave outside shops. The wallet that's on you every single day of your life. The suitcase you hand to a stranger at an airport and then walk away from.
What's protecting any of those?
Nothing. Not one of them.
Think about what that actually means for a second.
You protected the item that is insured, replaceable, backed up, and findable from your laptop in about four seconds.
And the ones that are none of those things? You left them with nothing at all.
So why?
Not because you don't care. You put a case on a phone you'd replace in a day.
It's because a case is for dropping — and you can picture dropping something. You've done it. It's real to you.
Theft isn't real to you. It's a thing that happens in stories, to other people, in other cities.
Right up until the afternoon it isn't.
And you did it again this week without thinking about it once.
You locked it outside a shop and walked in.
Or left it in the boot of the car while you popped inside somewhere.
Or put it on a belt and watched it disappear through the rubber flaps.
Or slid it onto the rack at the end of a carriage and sat down four rows away.
Now imagine one of those was the last time you ever saw it.
Not "might be gone." Gone. You're standing there and it isn't.
And somebody asks you one question:
Where is it right now?
Not where it was. Where it is, at this second, while you're standing there.
You can't answer that.
Nobody can.
And that — not the theft, not the money — is the actual problem.